Dinner at Xavier’s was very good and Bob managed to wade his way through a plate sized steak after a hefty portion of Coquilles St Jacques but still found room for a very pretty and refreshing lime pie with coconut ice cream and raspberry coulis.  It was good and I was allowed a spoonful, just the one, to round off my tasty local stuffed crab and red snapper in garlic butter.  The noisy French party that arrived like a flock of birds chattering, milling around and calling to each other were obviously less impressed, settled at their table, took a long hard look at the menu and then flew off as if frightened by the prices, leaving their unused napkins all in a tangled heap.  Very odd we thought.

Last night was not the best of sleeps.  A hoard of jazz fans in their gin palaces have descended on Rodney Bay from Martinique and decided to party until 7 am, yes, really, that early, or late depending how you look at it.  They were obviously having a riotous time with their very loud local style music, with a very heavy undertone and beat to it, and raucous joke telling, unfortunately in French so I didn’t get the punch lines although I would have gladly punched them in their heads as the sun rose.    Bob, quite obliviously snored his way through and awoke rested.  They slept on until noon as the party poopers went about their daily business swapping books, muttering about such bad form and sharing further tales of sailing derring do until interrupted by one of those tropical showers that hammer sploshily down on your head.

Once the cloud had passed, we decided to join the party spirit and took the water taxi, run by Haile Selassie fan Malachi, over to Pigeon Island to lime with the locals at the last day of the Jazz Festival.  It was people watching paradise and we spent an entertaining afternoon observing the dressed to kill girls, the absolutely incredible stilt walkers, the enchanting little kids with their corn track hair styles and gorgeous grins, the most amazing street dancing display which was brilliantly  original and Brian Cuthbertson from Illinois who truly demonstrated his passion for music with great gusto.  It was also most refreshing to be part of the ethnic minority by a very long way.  A wonderfully local “do”.

We plan to head off tomorrow to test all the newly installed gear, with some trepidation I must say but with the hope that the new batteries halt the end of Bob’s constant battle with the electrics.  We will see.  Fortunately the marina is empty of all Martinique boats so I am hoping for a good nights sleep, while I can be certain that Bob will sleep well.