Indeed last night’s beach barbecue turned out to be a real experience.  We duly pitched up on the beach, settled down with a beer to watch the sun set, got told off by Susie for being late and not contributing to the building of the barbecue, had stilted conversation which revolved around Susie and all the people she had befriended on her travels (full names of each which is tedious when you haven’t a clue who someone is talking about). if a conversation was started with Yvonne or Maddy, Susie would immediately take over.  We had another beer and bought a few for later but realised that no one had a bottle opener.  Fortunately the nice man in the bar lent us his, on condition that if I lost it I would have to take all my clothes off.  Fair enough.

The time came to go and find the sandpit barbecue.  It was a little bit disappointing as it looked more like the dogs had dug a hole for fun with a few paltry stones around it and a pathetic little tepee of twigs propped up in the middle.  Even I know a fire needs a body to burn and Bob, the expert pyromaniac in our household proffered advice that was curtly discounted by Susie.  Bob and I had another beer but were then sent on a mission to find more stones which we were pleased to do.  We returned with our offerings to find that the three had made no progress whatsoever in the fire lighting department.  At last Susie had the sense to summon help from the local blokes along the shore who came with the best possible fire starting material known to man, the foam from an old sofa.  It did the trick and at last we had a respectable blaze.  Bob and I went to buy more beer but all the little bars hade closed.  Meanwhile the barbecue food was cooked, well half cooked really.  The much heralded barbecue consisted of half baked potatoes, half baked aubergine, half baked plantain which eaten in the dark all tasted exactly the same.  There was no flavourings, no seasoning, just chunks of half baked vegetables.  Susie had forgotten the sausages.  At least our salad had flavour but the blowing sand put our teeth grittily on edge.   When they produced their bags of rubbish and started burning their sanitary protection we thought it time to leave.  “But you can’t miss Pleasure’s party!” Susie exclaimed bossily.  Oh yes we could and made our escape.

We awoke to beautiful blue skies again and set off for Tobago Cays at a reasonable hour wanting to arrive in good time because there is usually a bit of a queue.  We had a lovely sail, the wind happily puffing at a steady 16 knots, the mainsail up to the second spreaders, daintily trotting over the gentle waves, the sun beaming down.  We put in two tacks, quite exemplary ones they were too particularly as we knew that our barbecue companions were coming up behind us, and hit the mark spot on to then motor into the wind into the Cays.  It is the sort of place you need your wits about you with scary rocks and reefs and currents and wind.  We neatly entered nonchalantly followed the dog leg (piloted in by a turtle and a rather bossy blackbird on the stern rail), with just a bit of buttock clenching.  We were picked up by a boat boy who, finding no room at the inn, took us over to Petit Bateau island where we are sole occupiers of possibly the finest position in the whole place.  On the way we passed Judy and Ian’s boat, except that they have defected to Switzerland.

After a light lunch, including the remains of last night’s salad which is to be abandoned overboard after dark on account of the incursion of sand, and entertaining three more blackbirds who have a distinct preference for peanuts over sultanas, we headed for the turtle area.  We beached carefully, with echoes of the last time we were here when the dinghy took off on its own, most embarrassing, and I had a marvellous swim with the turtles.  I couldn’t find any at first but putting my head down came face to face with one.  It was fabulous.  We then dinghied over to Petit Bateau where we checked out where the barbecues would be this evening and had a little snorkel. It was so shallow, and the surf a bit fierce, that Bob grazed his knee on the coral.

Back on WIndy we are unwinding after a hard day, beer in hand, sitting in the glorious sunshine.  We are so far from everyone else that we have ditched our soggy, sandy swimwear and are just wearing our spectacles.  Very relaxed and possibly turning into Germans?