My Week — July 26th

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I realised this week that I need to really practice my holiday skills.   I don’t mean that as an excuse to take more holidays, I mean it because I don’t find holidays relaxing and that is just plain wrong.   First of all I don’t sleep.  So I have been awake pretty much every morning at 3am.   Some days I have been working but on my days off, well typically those are the days I wake up even earlier.   My mind is awash with things that need doing.  Have people had breakfast? What’s for lunch?  What are we doing for dinner?  Is there any milk?  I must remember to do that when we get home.   I never actually switch off so I am going home more exhausted than when we arrived.  Which, quite frankly, after two weeks in paradise is, well, just shit.

Anyway, it’s been a busy week here with more sightseeing, more rubbish American telly (mostly gameshows from 1979.  I mean, seriously America?) and more food and rum than should be allowed.

Sunday last week was amazing.  We headed out on Marvin’s boat for an afternoon of snorkelling and swimming with turtles.   His cousin Rory acted as life guard in case any of us were not confident swimmers but he also spotted my Go Pro and offered to do the filming for us.    The images he got were spectacular and so much better than I would have ever achieved.    (though I got his name wrong in the credits, ignore that).     Marvin also managed to land a 5kg fish, with the help of Mr B of course.     It was a fabulous day, rounded off with those pizzas from Zaccio’s again.

Monday  Was one of those days were we didn’t do an awful lot other than eat.   We nipped down the coast (having got a bit lost and gone way too far down the highway) for ice creams at Chilly Moo’s.   If you know Barbados, you know Chilly Moo’s.   And if you don’t, well you should.   Ice cream to die for.     Mr B and I headed down to the beach to meet Marvin, and Martin and Rowena for a barbecue right on the beach.  The main attraction being that fish that the boys caught the day before.   Ellie and Jonnie stayed back at the villa and ate at the Rum Shak where apparently the hot dogs are pretty damn good.

We hit Harrison’s Cave on Tuesday.  A spectacular natural attraction that is another “must see”.   I will say no more as I will be doing a blog post on it shortly but this photo seemed to cause much hilarity on Facebook.  I can’t think why.

Royal Westmoreland held an open house at one of the larger properties on the development in the evening, along with drinks and nibbles.   Hello.   How could we resist a nosey round that?!   Typically some of the larger properties are owned by sports stars (Rooney, Flintoff, David Haye, Calzaghe, Lineker, Vaughan, Ian Woosnam) so it is fun to try and work out whose kitchen you are standing in.     If I had a spare £75 Million I would buy the whole resort as it is up for sale, and that would make me their landlady, technically.  Can you imagine?!!!  Can you?

Let’s shelve that idea.

It was our turn to hit the Rum Shak too and realise that when you ask for a rum and Coke, you get a whole bottle.  Well a whole 1/4 bottle.   Still makes me chuckle though.

Another round of golf for Mr B on Wednesday , seemingly unaffected by the rum the night before.   Though we were all shattered in the afternoon so it was dinner that needed no thought: Zaccio’s for pizza and sunset.

Thursday was the day we became aware of an underwater volcano off the coast of Grenada called KickEmJenny.   It looked like she was about to erupt, the consequences of which nobody was really sure about but there was talk that it could trigger a tsunami both in Grenada and here.   The word tsunami is enough to put the fear of god into anybody, but particularly us.    Thankfully so far it has come to nothing and those in the know have downgraded the alert status from amber back to yellow for now.    We spent most of the afternoon, annoyingly, looking for a suitcase.  The combination on mine broke on the way out and we had to open it with a screwdriver.   Which meant there was a real danger of it being the one that comes around the conveyor belt at Gatwick with its contents spilled out.   And me having to do the walk of shame as I shove it all back in again.   Do you know how hard it is to buy a suitcase on this island?    You probably don’t.  Let me tell you, it is.

Mr B and I went to watch the sunset on the beach in Lower Carlton just down the road before coming home to spag bol.  Comfort food whilst we wondered if KickEmJenny might make things a bit hairy.

And yes, the beach really is THAT quiet.

Friday was a rare day of nothing at all really happening.  A lazy day.   With the Rum Shak and this time two bottles of rum.  Oh dear.   Oh very dear.

Followed by a 5.30am alarm call for Mr B and I to go round the golf course on Saturday morning.  What the hell were we thinking?  I was monkey spotting and taking photos.  He was smacking a golf ball.  I don’t get golf.  I really don’t.    But I did get some nice photos.  And wet.   Boy did we get wet.  When it rains here, it really rains.   We had to hide under a tree for twenty minutes at one point

For lunch we headed over to the other side of the island, the Atlantic coast and to a famous restaurant called The Round House.   Quite frankly they could serve up scabby horse and no-one would notice, the views are mesmerising.  Thankfully though the food was fantastic.  Our starter of Brie cooked in Mount Gay rum with walnuts was fantastic and I am definitely going to try and recreate it at home.

Today is our last day as we fly home tomorrow so we are going to hit the beach outside JuJu’s, a little beach bar that does great burgers and potato wedges.   The perfect Sunday spot.