Aaron finished painting the landing doors this rainy morning, whilst I, through the medium of scanning further colour slides from March 2004, took a virtual trip to sunny Barbados.
Beginning with a continuation of my perambulations along the sheltered coastline in the vicinity of Port St Charles,
there was a fling of what I think we decided were some kind of sandpiper.
The golden shoreline blended well with the blue sea, over which a solitary gull flew low.
Penetrating the sands, levitating, long-dead, lizard-like limbs defied gravity.
The bridge at top left of the second and third of these pictures is one that Sam had navigated when he arrived in Barbados a few days earlier. I wish I could remember what the factory was. Perhaps a cane sugar plant?
On a sailing trip on one of the race organisers’ yachts, we observed a shipload of piratical tourists. I rather hoped that all those in the water before the black flag set off for the open sea, had been picked up to enjoy the rest of their trip.
Jackie, over dinner, observed that the onions in the savoury rice that accompanied her delicious chili carne were very finely chopped. That made me feel rather chuffed. She drank Hoegaarden and I finished the graves.