I am sitting on the front porch of a friend's family's Island Home, (Dahling) watching my boys and their buddies in the sea. The sun is just creeping into the bay, and making twinkly sparkles on the water. The boys sit one behind the other on heavy old windsurfer board, and paddle about the bay yelling joyfully (I was only trying to help! Well, I didn't ask you for help! Now I am WET! Oh, it's the end of the world!) and probably waking the whole place up.
A dog whose name may be "Smiley" greeted me this morning like a faithful hound, and now sleeps at my feet. Does he really recognise me, or does he just know that if he lies just here he will be rubbed on his back by a random person? I haven't seen "Ghost Dog", who I wrote about way back in September.
Chas has just seen the "biggest parrot fish EVER". And Ben, my friend Kelli's big boy, is throwing bread into the water for the "footballer fish".
Ben saw me slapping a mosquito, went into the house, brought out a fan and plugged it in so that it points straight at me. Pretty thoughtful for a five-year-old, I think.
Soon, we will make a heap of pancakes and scrambled eggs, for boys who are so HUNGRY from paddling around and swimming for hours. Why oh WHY do they get up so early?
A yacht is going by, towards the marinas. The sun shines behind it, through the sails. Every marina is packed with yachts from all over the world. Every hotel is completely packed. Every flight is booked solid.
Every so often, we hear that the UK or US governments have issued a "travel advisory", warning their citizens against the dangers of travelling to Trinidad and Tobago. We have escalating murders, kidnappings and road accidents. Our government just laughs merrily and does nothing. They know that carnival is coming, and that Trinidad is beautiful and amazing.
Everyone we know with a spare room, couch, or patch of floor has visitors sleeping there. They crawl about the city in groups, pink and cane-rowed. Don't they know that blonde hair looks awful in cane-rows?
Hey! There goes Ghost Dog, swimming across the bay! He is alive! Or a Ghost, whatever.