I crafted such a witty blog as the first of a new series but I had just reached the end when the computer decided to reboot itself thereby wiping out all traces of my carefully constructed, outrageously hilarious tales.  Gone astray is our collection a the airport by the wiry, chatty but very hoarse Louie clutching a scruffy bit of paper scrawled in red ink with SREARSON and the stop off at a bar to collect some Piton beer to refresh his throat.  Cast adrift is our arrival at a spookily quiet, exceedingly wet and showery Rodney Bay marina, where we were clearly not expected, the boat with no shore power, the outboard engine parked in our cabin, no fridge turned on, no dinghy inflated, no shops open but no worries because the restaurants were open and serving beer.  You have lost the amusing tale of our busy day getting through our list of things to do, Bob’s inscription of CHAGER in indelible ink that turned out, when corrected, to resemble a verse of the Koran written by an angry spider.  Vanished is the tale of the disappeared petrol  container that when “found “ and returned by Lawrence (the mechanic who looks like Super Mario) which turned out to be someone else’s very inferior one with a duff breather valve (which may, or may not, work once bodged together with a bit of gaffer tape) which turned Bob himself into an angry spider.  Completely misplaced is my irritation of being followed across the Atlantic by an exceedingly petty citizen of Bishops Cannings who can’t stop writing emails about the use of the Village Hall bank account for the Village Festival on account of it being money laundering, all answered curtly accompanied all day by the continuous thud and echo of a very loud and rather irritating pile driver.  But we are here, thank God for beer, glorious sunshine, balmy breezes, constant heart warming temperature of 28 degrees and twenty days to go.