Most definitely the best dinner we have had so far on this trip (perhaps with the exception of the Rainforest Hideaway which might have just had the teensiest edge).  The rack of lamb was cooked to perfection, the roast potatoes crunchy, the red wine jus delicious and smooth and all accompanied by a glass or two of Malbec.  Well done chef Fran who arrived at the table very hot and bothered after slaving over a hot stove in a hot climate and discovered the perils of the swinging gimballed cooker and very hot oven.  Bob and I, after being waited on hand and foot by Fran, then had the fun of opening our Christmas presents which were most beautifully appropriate for a Mummy addicted to bridge and recently turned to Zumba.  Pop crawled off to bed and we all followed shortly afterwards replete from our feast.

Everyone was up with the lark, even me and we were battened down, shipshape and Bristol fashion and ready to leave at 7am.  A miracle.  With the gusts of wind whistling through Soufriere we were very circumspect with the mainsail, hoisting it gingerly to half way between the stays.  We cautiously headed out to sea but all the wind had hidden itself away.  It started brewing up as we reached the end of St Lucia and put in a few jabs of 28 knot blasts fading rapidly to 12 knots.  With the waves broadside on we had very erratic progress being slopped from side to side and it wasn’t the most comfortable ride.  The greatest irritation was another monohull creeping up behind us, passing by and pulling ahead.  We tried taking in the mainsail to balance things up and get more upright but we still made irritatingly slow progress footling above and below 6 knots, not Windy’s usual striking performance.  We are puzzled.  Perhaps Windy was just having a quiet day.

Arriving at Wallilabou was a pleasure, it is such a pretty spot.   We were greeted by a chap in a rowing boat, far far out to sea, gave him a tow in, he transferred to our dinghy and held on to his own boat for dear life.  We parked on a mooring buoy, strung a rope out to the remains of the dinghy dock and feel very relieved that it is holding us nice and steady on a bouncy sea.

We arrived at just after 2pm so had made good time, munched our way through a quick lunch and then set off for our afternoon’s expedition.  We headed up a very steep slope, turned left at the main road, and strolled for a mile to the gardens and waterfall greeted with great friendliness along the way by all the locals, bleated at by a goat with no ears and diving off the road in fear of our lives when the locals zoomed by at a million miles an hour horns blazing.  We met a very nice lady picking sorrel who turned out to be the keeper of the gardens so strolled along with her to the gates.  The waterfall was more a of a splash but in an absolutely delightful setting, with a pool that yelled out to be swum.  Both girls did and deemed it refreshing.  Bob and I were more circumspect.  Bob sat on a rock and I dipped in my toes, it was enough. 

On our return journey we dropped into the local arts shop where Bob marvelled over the most incredible sculptures made out of a miscellany of car parts, and he could name them.  The girls found a cute little kitten to play with, far more their thing.  Returning to Walallialbaou the girls investigated the “museum of Pirates of the Caribbean”, said hello to the tortoises and we headed back to the boat for a quick chill.  Bob has since done his engine checks, had a shower, made water, run the generator (yes, Gerry is still humming), put everything that can be charged on charge while us girls have lounged around doing nothing at all.  I am thinking I should go and prepare myself for dinner and at least put a brush through my hair so that I can keep up with his nobs.