We were not too sad about leaving Jolly Harbour this morning after reports back from those who managed to have a run ashore, that it was horribly disneyfied and designed for American tourists who, unable to walk apparently, were buzzing around in their golf carts.  It was hard to tell that it was the Caribbean at all with the plastic, bland architecture and the only locals that were seen firmly in their places in servile roles.

As we headed out, avoiding the numerous shoals that proliferate off Antigua, the wind was, of course, right on our nose as we started heading for Nonsuch Bay.  We decided to give the queasy crew a break and motored along rather than sail, which also gave Bob a chance to try and charge the batteries, a constant worry on his mind.  (You may be wondering about Jerry.  We did try him again but despite a lot of bluster and making all the right noises, Jerry still does not actually charge anything or produce any electricity of any shape or form).  The engine is trying to make up for Jerry’s recalcitrance but there still seems to be a disconnect between the amount of time that it is running and the amount that the batteries are being charged.  Not wishing to be stranded in beautiful surroundings but without any power we decided to head instead for English Harbour where we knew there was assistance close at hand as well as my favourite restaurant, Catherine’s, which serves far better food than Fray Bentos steak and kidney pies.

So we are back in English Harbour, just one day off one year when we crept in under cover of darkness after our epic crossing of the Atlantic last year.  Happy memories.  Unfortunately it hasn’t been any easier to park than last year, due to all the little people being shovelled into one corner to make way for the super yachts, and the holding hasn’t improved either, it has taken us four attempts, three valiant dives by Stuart, two gin and tonics and a lot of swearing to get the anchor to stick.

We are hoping to dine ashore, the dinghy willing.  Cross fingers.