The last day of May started badly. I'd not slept great, thanks to much wind noise throughout the night, not helped by my finding the bed not particularly comfortable anyway. Come 7am things were noisier still as a storm hit, pounding the corrugated metal roof loudly.
Breakfast at 9am was, as always, great though. Having been so effusive with our praise for the eggs on previous mornings, Helen got invited into the kitchen to learn the recipe and secret. Mostly it's the use of coconut oil, apparently. It helps if you have your own coconut trees in your garden.
Fruit and bread and juice and tea also, as usual. Midway through the meal we had to hurry inside; despite being undercover, the strength of another downpour and wind was such that we really needed to get away from it quickly.
We asked for our bill and went upstairs to pack, turning one suitcase into "the filth sack" where all our grotty nasty sweaty clothes from the last few days are banished. Our next accomodation has laundry, thank fuck. While writing up our day on the buses we heard a horn and wondered if our transport had arrived early, so packed up to go wait downstairs. It hadn't, but it was only another 10 minutes – plenty of time to play with the friendly dogs and get yet more recommendations for places to visit.
Oh, shit, this is amazing. That's the view from our private balcony? Down to the private (to the whole property) beach? Really? Fucking hell. Our man, Elvis, is exuberantly friendly and happy to welcome us to his little bit of paradise.
Mostly the boats don't move. A few go past, not many, some close and some far; only one is a big noisy boat called Rhum Runner II, full of people and pumping out very loud music - but no noise from the folk, who don't seem to be dancing or carousing in any extravagant way.
But mostly it's just quiet, just the sound of the sea lapping and the occasional local dog barking.
Yeah, I can live with this for a bit, beer in hand. Ruining all the class and romance by chomping on leftover pizza but who cares?