The fish fry evening was superb.  A whole street was closed off, loads of stalls were selling the most amazing array of fish, flavoured rums and beer, all accompanied by a booming sound system.  Francesca and Bozo tried the sugar cane flavoured rum, I tried “the original”, sensibly Bob declined.  Fortunately no-one lit a match near us.  Yes, I did mention Bozo the taxi driver who thought that his duties included sticking by us through thick and thin and letting us try his octopus soup that he had spiced up with some very hot sauce.  A couple from Cheshire who we chatted to mistook him for Fran’s boyfriend.  We tried giant sized whelks as big as tennis balls,  stuffed crabs, fried fish that looked like sardines, succulent barbequed lambi (conch) with a fierce garlic sauce, Johnny cakes and fish cakes that were more like fritters.  All very tasty indeed.

We had a lie in this morning, to recover from the excess of rum, and Fran staked herself out on the sun deck to catch a last few rays.  We then dinghied over to the marina, had a browse in the shops with prices definitely targeted at the very big gin palaces parked just outside and then headed off for lunch at Hurricane Hole.  We had just placed our order and started tucking in to our Piton draught beer when Bozo the super keen taxi driver appeared and decided to join us, we were all far too British stiff upper lipped to tell him to sling his hook.

We returned to the boat, without Bozo fortunately, and Fran and I had a last swim.  We went over to investigate a yacht that had sunk, on a mooring buoy and left in place as a a memorial to its late owner.  We then headed over to the beach where I was required to heave myself athletically on to the ferry dock, a move executed with great willingness on my behalf but ended up with me once again sprawled in stranded whale position on the pier.  We strolled around the beach, leaving our flippers and snorkels with the ferrymen, looked in the shops and admired some gorgeous solemn faced babies finding at least two further potential boyfriends for Fran who volunteered to provide me with grandchildren.  All offers were declined graciously. We popped back the way we had come, fitting in a Mamma Mia flipper dance on the ferry dock before splashing back to Windy.

Far too soon, 5pm came and it was time for Fran to leave.   Bozo came and picked her up and whisked her away, hopefully to the airport.  Bob and I are feeling very sad and will miss her wonderful company after 4 weeks as shipmates, she has been a star.