The Fish Fry was excellent.  First stop was a stall that sells all the differently flavoured rums.  They are vicious in strength but very tasty when flavoured with fruits, grenadine and “horny”.  We have absolutely no idea what “horny” is but we gave it to Bob anyway.  The girls, treating the oldies, chose a wide and eclectic collection of things to tempt our palate.  Finding a table under cover (for indeed it was raining again) we tucked into conch curry, johnny cakes, fish innards stew (an aphrodisiac apparently), black fish stew, the ubiquitous macaroni cheese.  Not being fully satisfied, the girls then went on a forage down the street of stalls and returned with stuffed crabs, fried plantain and the most deliciously garlicky red snapper barbequed in foil with a sensational soupy sauce.  All this, washed down with a Piton or two, was a feast for kings and queens and we staggered (both full of food and rum) back to Ernest the earnest taxi driver and cackled our way home.

It was another girls outing today, Bob didn’t fancy another mud bath, so we embarked on our tour, in the rain.  We visited a beautiful botanic garden laid out in European style with grass between the plants (real grass not ganga), passed the bathing pools that were first installed 3 centuries ago and apparently used by Empress Josephine on a visit, to the Diamond Waterfall.  The name didn’t seem particularly appropriate as it was stained yellow with oxides but still very pretty.  We then went to L’Adera for one of my most favourite views in the world, between the Pitons, because I couldn’t bear the girls not seeing this magnificent sight, and actually our lunch was pretty good too although we were somewhat surprised by the water pistol on every table.  Odd we thought until it was explained that it was to use against invading birds.

Next stop was the famed drive through volcano, yes, you literally do drive into the crater, where we watched the amazing seething pools, plopping fountains of molten mud and were told all about it by a larger than life guide who couldn’t stop yawning and sniffing Olbas up her nose, perhaps to counteract the rotten eggs smell.  We then played in the mud, rubbing clay across our skin, letting it dry to a white ghostly sheen, avoiding the naughty Frenchman who was determined to place black hand mud prints on to the girls anatomy, before soaking ourselves in the hot, hot, hot bath (fortunately warm because it was raining again).  Exhausted by our exertions, Ernest drove us back, our heads lolling and we zig zagged our way back to Marigot Bay arriving just in time for Fran’s appointment at the spa for manicure and pedicure and other unmentionables.  By the time Fran had been beautified, wi fi made use of, we returned to the boat (in the rain) and the rest of us primped and preened to catch up with the pristine Fran before heading off for our gala dinner.  We set off, intrepid travellers into the dark night, covered in cagoules, the bat out of hell cape and towels for dinner at the Rainforest Hideaway.  More of that tomorrow.  (Why on earth did I apologise to Deirdre for the lack of incident?  It hasn’t bloody well stopped raining since).