You know how it is when stuff is free. It feels mean not to avail yourself. People have gone to a lot of trouble and it would be rude to refuse.
It was our first all-inclusive hol and there were drinks, all the food you could want and free watersports. Well, obviously booze and swimming don’t mix. Neither do food and swimming for that matter so that was mostly for the evening.
I’m not one of those “alarm clock” sunbathers who turn themselves regularly beneath the roasting Caribbean sun to create that lovely mahogany tan so beloved of Peter Stringfellow which will inevitably turn into briefcase leather at around 65 years old. Continue reading “Windsurfing”
Those noises were very spooky. It’s not as if you don’t hear noise underwater. I’ve heard boat engines, outboards, jetskis, pedaloes, people noises and the sound of rain on the surface of the ocean, but never this weird, unearthly kind of calling.
Sometimes a lower pitch moan seemed to be “answered” by a higher pitch whine, mixed with other more faint noises which were difficult to discern. Continue reading “Watery Paradise II”
I left some Caribbean beach between my toes for the flight, the sea in my hair for two days and the Virgin holidays luggage label is still on the rucksack.
I have shells on the dressing table and pieces of washed up coral and I’m wearing the weird shell, local rock and local wood bracelet that Helenora the lady who sat on the beach stringing beads, made for me. Continue reading “Watery paradise”