DAYS 8-11 BEQUIA.....Lock Yourself Out

Sometimes you find a place that you never tire of, a place which epitomises the atmosphere of the break from the normal day to day existence that is your holiday. A place you will return to again and again. For Trish, myself and now Merlin too, that place is the island of Bequia. We had planned to spend four full days there and now with Jim along with his click clicking camera, we were sure to see the island through a new pair of eyes. And so we did.

I am writing this as we speed away from this jewel of The Grenadines which never fails to inveigle its unique charm into the consciousness. We had pulled into Port Elizabeth early evening on Monday night. The horseshoe shaped harbour ringed with small ramshackle shops and hotels was again alive with craft both big and small bobbing on the turquoise water in the wash of our lumbering ferry. Like the rest of The Grenadines, Bequia is volcanic, and behind the small yet expanding town, the green hills rise rapidly. Dotted among the palm and coconut trees hanging up there, are private residences ranging from the small shack type dwellings, to magnificent statements, multi roomed and multi millions too. On and on the hills rise until they are just jagged rocky skylines. Roads wind like snakes up into the forests. Sharp eyes, or Jim's zoom lens can make out cars and other vehicles slowly making their way up and along the ridges. Tomorrow, that would be us.

Where the hills tumble into the sea, past the occasional bar or hotel, the sand, tinged with streaks of black volcanic discharge from millennia ago, merges with a beautiful fish filled sea, water clear and sparkling in the hot sunshine. Bequia at this time of year is recovering from the Christmas and Spring high times. Then it's harbour comes alive with sailing boats pulling into the bay to spend sun drenched days at its bars and taverns, but at this time of year....it sleeps. Which is fine by us.

The Frangipani Hotel where we stay, is a wooden confusion of broken, nearly broken and please be careful. It's seen better days. But it's right by the harbour side with recliners parked invitingly under swaying coconut trees. We always stay here and it's standing fans and over bed mosquito nets instead of air con and  such like, provide a reminder of what holidays once were. It's even possible to lock yourself out of your room, which of course is what I did.

As the room door clicked too, I had a sinking feeling that Trish was not inside. No, she was instead on the communal balcony. Visions of sleeping with Merlin immediately raced into my beer addled mind as i furtively but futilely rattled the doorknob. Outside the midnight crickets chirped. I received a look from my wife usually reserved for a small child who has failed to eat all the dinner she has painstakingly prepared for them at her place of work What to do? Call for the duty clerk? There was none. All was locked tighter than a virgin's chastity belt. No, at times like these there is only one you can call.....Merlin. Over the years I have known him, the majority of these in his drinking days, I have repeatedly tried to lock him out of my house in some fit of pique or indignation. But he always found a way in. And so he did this night, expertly folding the plastic 'do not disturb plastic doorknob hanger found at all good hotels, sliding it down to the lock and applying just the right amount of shoulder pressure until the door sprang open. Cue celebration much back slapping. Quickly I slunk inside. At least I had a clean plate!