Stuart, Pop’s boyfriend and the last member of the party arrived on Thursday, without his luggage of course and after settling in, admiring the Caribbean Christmas tree, slapping on gallons of high factor sunscreen, being ginger and somewhat fair skinned, we all headed off for a beach barbecue at Nisbet Plantation.  It was brilliant with a bountiful buffet, a whole school of different fish barbecued to perfection and juicy steak.  The young went round twice and then danced it off to the lively band that played some of the best cheese.

We have had a lovely last few days in Villa Calypso on the beautiful island of Nevis with lots of swimming and playing on the beach, very generous gin and tonics and a fascinating family outing to the Nevis Heritage Centre where a wonderful guide told the history of the island and we then took a tour through the ages through the medium of houses from early Carib “tents”, through the matchboxes allocated to the newly liberated slaves, to present day cottages that proliferate across the island today.  Our eyes turned finally to the grand villas that proudly stand, tall and dominating, surveying the world at their feet like a lion on Pride Rock. 

The burgeoning happiness all suddenly came to a crashing standstill when I found out that my Mummy had quietly slipped away, her beloved granddaughter Jenny holding her hand, at peace at last.  An inevitable conclusion to a happy life lived to the full.  So, so sad.

Today, feeling somewhat subdued, we tackled the boring and dispiriting job of packing up the villa and then Francesca and I conveying loads of squashy bags and a weekly shop across a very choppy bay to Windy. It took several very wet journeys, as Francesca’s driving still leaves room for improvement, and the problems with the electrics meant that the freezer wasn’t frozen and the fridge rather on the warm side.  We will have to eat everything all at once.  In the meantime Bob was trying to sort out our papers with Immigration Control which relies on them actually being where they should be when they say they will be, not as easy as you might believe. 

We waved off Duncan, Dolley and the children as they took Wincent’s water taxi back to St Kitts to fly off to Houston, had a last supper, actually lunch, on Oualie Beach and shuttled the people over the Windy.

We pottered down towards Charlestown seeking a quieter, less lumpy parking place and are now moored off Pinney’s Beach, listening to music, the inevitable G&Ts in hand and a game of Scrabble in progress on the aft deck.  

A truly wonderful Christmas week in the Caribbean.