We had to giggle.  We wandered all around the frightfully smart and well equipped marina that is Crown Bay looking for the chandlery.  We just couldn’t find it until we noticed that outside the Outfitters there wasn’t actually socks and shirts in the sale bin but interesting marine style, really useful items.  Aha!  Marine Outfitters in America do not sell clothes but chandlery!  We were able to pick up the tube of superglue that we were after, to stick back the plastic cover on the throttle that keeps popping off, and managed to stop Bob from following his usual predilection for buying all sorts of exciting things.  That day has now passed but he could still look if not touch.

After our enormous gin and tonic, we had a very solemn evening at Bella Blue in Frenchtown, an exceedingly lively area of town full of very young Americans having a whale of a time and rather stupidly swimming just off the quay where there were heaps of the evil smelling orange weed that seems to have invaded the Caribbean this year.  Bob was off his grub, I suspect churning with mixed emotions and also a bit concerned about making the link up in Antigua with the Virgin flight (we were cutting it a bit fine).  I helped him finish his very tasty calamari after gobbling my lamb chops served with the most vivid, psychedelic green mint jelly (rather a strange starter but I misheard the waitress as she chanted the specials and assumed that chef was conjuring up lamb pops, (ie meatballs kind of things, I have a better imagination than him).  My main was a tomatoey, fishy mixture with a bigger kick than had been explained that had me gasping.  Bob toyed with a wiener schnitzel that might have been veal but in all probability was not.   We shared an ice cream for old times sake which had a pair of superfluous mint leaves perched upon it.  We awaited the return of Kenroy outside, entertained by the antics of the American kids in various states of inebriation and a baseball game where no one seemed to be able to hit the ball.  Kenroy scooped us up and returned in sombre mood and went to bed.  Bob was roaming around in the night, charging his Kindle while I slept like a log.

This morning we did our last and final jobs.  Cleaning out the fridge and freezer, stowing anything that might move on a stormy Atlantic crossing, bleaching everything is sight (it leaves such a lingering smell, yeuch) and packing all the dirty linen and suchlike so it won’t fester.  We sat, sweating on Windy’s naked deck and wondered what else there was to do.  We checked out with the marina office, leaving the keys and waited for Kenroy to take us to the airport.  Unfortunately we couldn’t remember what time we had asked him to come so fretted a bit more.

He, of course, arrived and whisked us up the road to the very smart and imposing airport.  We checked in and thought we would go through security and grab a bite of lunch on the other side.  Our mistake.  We were ushered through to the one LIAT gate which had a snack dispensing machine that offered crisps or crisps, a drinks machine that was sold out of water, sprite and anything else drinkable and a ladies loo with an out of order sign on it.  In desperation we had cheesy wotsits and rather odd vanilla biscuits which would appear to be a relic of the 50s and coke.  Yes, I had to have coke, I was desperate for a drink.  To add insult to injury, through the glass partition we could see the gate for Spirit airline where a cheerful and lively coloured Bar and Cafe advertised its tasty wares.  The LIAT flight itself was unremarkable, other than it left only 10 minutes late, and it did actually leave which was a nice change.

We landed in Antigua at 3:30pm.  The Virgin flight was due to leave at 4:55pm.  By the time we had made our way through Immigration, collected our bags, which seemed to take forever, we were sweating.  (Interestingly enough no one commented on my latest Occupation where in a moment of boredom from filling in too many forms, Bob and I had decided on Ventriloquist, in brackets Trainee in case I was called upon to prove it). Fortunately a nice man was happy to phone the Virgin desk to say that we were in the building and we whisked through Customs, flew down to the Virgin check in desks to drop our bags, dashed to the other end of the airport to go through security (just how long can it take to examine a passport) and arrived all of a fluster in the inner sanctuary to be told that the flight had been slightly delayed (probably some late baggage).  We legged it to the Executive lounge, necked a gin and tonic, stuffed in a few mouthfuls of tasty nibbles, tried to relax and breath, just in time for the flight to be called.  Phew.  We were lucky.

We are on board, feet up, relaxing and managed a second glass of bubbles when we stopped (again) in St Lucia.  We will be home soon.