Caribbean Capers

"It is very brave of your uncle to invite you and your four children here" remarked Rowena, a new found friend of my Mum's who is also renting a place in Grenada, and who had come for lunch.

"It is" I agreed.

"That's why they've gone out, I suppose" she reasoned.

It is extraordinary of Richard and Rick to have us all. To say the place is beautiful is an understatement, the house is just fantastic. It is spacious and incredibly tastefully and comfortably furnished, right on the water, with a spectacular view of the sea and the boats. The kitchen is huge, and after walking from the kettle to the fridge, to the teaspoon drawer and back again Mark commented "I'm exhausted!"

There is a little beach right there and a wonderful infinity pool. Of course, one of the first things Rachel does when she arrives is to try and reach infinity by climbing over the edge of it. (Her great uncle's genes, if ever I saw them.)

We told the children there were only a couple of rules. No whingeing, no quarrelling and do what the adults tell you. They've been having a wonderful time, swimming in the pool and sea, attempting to catch the fish that swim around them in little shoals, and playing in the sand.  It is all very idyllic.

Apart from my paranoia about them being burned by the sun, it is very relaxing and stress free. We are slightly conscious that the children aren't bothersome, with the result that Rachel gets her own way pretty much all of the time. We compromise before we reach the point of her being too high pitched in her objections.

This morning, she wanted for her breakfast the entire fruit platter Mum had made to share. It was early in the morning and the volume of her insistence was reaching unacceptable. 'Granny' can usually get round Rachel, so I leave Mum to deal with her.

When I returned, I saw that Rachel had two bowls of fruit in front of her and she was spooning the contents of Mum's one into her own already full bowl. As she was putting the fruit in, Mum, with another spoon was eating it, from Rachel's bowl, right under her nose. If she noticed her bowl was never getting any fuller she didn't object. As compromises go, this didn't seem a bad one.

The Grenadian people are really friendly and there is a lovely maid called Cherrie Ann and a Rastafarian jewellery making gardener called Garbo. Garbo likes to bump fists with the children and say "Respect." Rachel wouldn't though. Garbo, who has 11 kids, told her "you a good girl aren't you?" Her response to this was to fold her arms and blow a big raspberry at him.

Rachel was slightly more charming when meeting the guests at Richard's dinner party one night. She was introduced to a slim, glamorous older lady dressed head to toe in pink. 
'Like Barbie!' said Rachel. Patrick was being very forthcoming and marched towards each lady and gentleman hand outstretched to formally greet them.

Ben has been studying the map of Grenada and found a place he wanted to visit called 'Dragon Bay.' (His obsession with mythical creatures tries us everywhere we go.) We packed a picnic and set off in search of it. We drove round the twisty, turn-y, hilly roads around the west of the island hugging the coast. There was one small beach that could have been it, but it wasn't very accessible (or nice looking) so we drove on and found ourselves at the Concord waterfall. This was a forty foot drop of water into a pool 54 feet deep. The boys all went in for a swim and before long Mark found a place half way up from which to jump in.

I watched him wistfully; 'There was a time when I would have joined you jumping into waterfalls. It is a shame I have to be grown-up and sensible now,' I commented.
'You don't,' Mark challenged 'as long as we do it one at a time.'

'Well' I bluster, realising now I might be a bit chicken, ' it is more about getting all wet and uncomfortable when we're all getting back in the car in a minute.'

But no, this isn't me, no excuses, I decide I will have to do it too.


Standing on the slippery rock, looking down into the water far below, I feel a sudden stab of fear, I jump quickly, before it overwhelms me and hit the water like a stone. It is cool and clear and exhilarating.


I rejoice in proving myself not to be an old fogey after all. It is quite important not to be, in our family anyway. I have a fine example to follow in that both my Mum and Uncle can still stand and walk on their hands aged 65 plus. Only the day before, Mum and I had a cartwheel competition, she did seven in a row and I did nine.

I don't consider myself to be that competitive, though I find myself beating Emilia at Uno, in my defence, it is a very difficult game to try and lose. It is all luck of the cards and if you have it, you have to play it. I look at her disappointed face and feel maybe I could have done more to lose.

We have been having a brilliant week but reality beckons. I shall miss this. The children’s swimming confidence has come on tremendously, particularly the little two who have developed their own alter egos of ‘Goggle Boy’ and ‘Water Baby’ and refer to each other by these names when in the pool. Rachel seems unfazed by her couple of near drowning incidences. It is terrifying, because when they go under it is completely silent. You expect to hear a struggle or splash but there is nothing. You get complacent after a week by a pool but luckily we’ve had Rachel, who likes to remind us if we’re a little under-cautious ‘I can’t swim, REMEMBER!’