16th June.

What a week and I don't know where to start .

As a result of me going to another Rotary meeting I met an American, Paul and we chatted about all sorts of things, and his passion, surprise surprise, was old clocks. I could not have wished for more. Then one thing lead to another and he told me about a 'wooden clock’ in New York that needed repairing and the owner had not been able to find anyone to do the work. When he apparently took it to museums, they just wanted to buy it. So now, after looking at my web site is going to recommend me to do the job. But that’s not the real big news. He was going to be the new Rotary director for the French side of the island and personally invited Dyana & I to his inauguration which was going to take place at a very posh hotel on the French side. (see photo) If there’s a party going, we’re going to be there.

It had a Bollywood theme because they wanted to attract more Indian and Asian business men to the organisation. The vast majority of people arrived dressed in authentic clothing . Long sari’s and the traditional men's suits. For this one off do, Paul suggested that we need only come in some sort of evening garb. Well that gave Dyana just the sort of excuse to rush off to do some retail therapy in Phillipsburg. She needed dancing shoes as well. So there we were standing around, holding drinks and chatting away to many people when who should arrive, you’ll never guess, the President of the French side of the Island. The man who is the point of the sharp end of the political spectrum. President Frantz Gumbs and his wife. Had a long chat to him and then the obligatory photo. Not a particularly good one, but one nevertheless. Fame at last, but for whom? During dinner the dancers arrived to entertain us all. (click on the video to view)

It’s been a very nautical week. We’ve taken to water aerobics. 10.30 to 11.30 Caribbean time. Run by a guy called Tony. He’s excellent, and now we’ve found muscles we didn’t know we had.

Beverly who lives on the complex, a very classy lady, and a brilliant cook kindly offered to take us to Marigot in her dingy . (Click on the video). The weather was calm and she gave us a brilliant tour of the entire lagoon which is much bigger than I originally thought. An excellent lunch in a French Restaurant called La Belle something or other right on the harbour front. Lunch lasted at least three hours before we set off homewards.

Now from the sublime to the ridiculous. Another chance meeting in a local bar while watching England play the USA (the least said the better) met another member from our complex. An Englishman. A rare breed on the island. Fortunately! He also invited us to go out on his boat. I think he must have been bored or something. Or perhaps just looking for something to do. Anyway not one to miss an opportunity we also accepted his kind offer. He took us out in his dilapidated and very patched up dingy with the tiniest of the small engines precariously attached to the stern. It was not even inflated as it should have been; very limp, and when he stepped onto its rounded edge while getting in, he very nearly fell in the water . Off we chugged across the lagoon at a very slow speed to another section of the marina where we clambered off. Both Dyana & I were so happy to be on dry land, and it had only taken five or so minutes to get there. We said nothing while he removed some bits and pieces from the ‘dingy’. We looked at each other. What had we got into!

Peter was a man of very few words. Dyana says it’s always the quiet ones you have to watch; and he took a yellow box over to a boat hoist and started rummaging round looking and trying out various keys; none of which seemed to fit the lock. Now I was completely confused and turned to Dyana saying, "this can’t be right." The boat he was trying to unlock looked like it was a thoroughbred. Pristine white and very very expensive. After our little trip over in what looked like the boat built by Humphrey Bogart in ‘The African Queen’ this could not be right. Turning to Dyana again I said, “He’s going to come over any second and apologise for not having the right key and would we take a rain check on the outing .” And that would be that.

I was so wrong. He found the correct key and lowered this beautiful boat into the water. (click on the video). Thirty six feet of sleek white muscle. Powered by two 250 horse power engines. Cruising speed 50mph, or 80kph for those in metric. A real adrenalin junkie. And I’m talking about us all; Dyana included. First off to Creole Rock. Sounds good doesn’t it. It’s brilliant for snorkelling. Jumped into the crystal clear water and looked around. We were being watched. The single large eye of a barracuda not twelve feet away stared long and hard at us. It just hung in the water. Totally motionless. Looking............  Fortunately there was only one. So we just nonchalantly, or should I say gingerly swam away. Not too quickly though. There must have been thousands of small fish all feeding and not bothered about the swimmers above. It’s a very popular place for tourists who want to see lots of marine life. An hour later off we zoooomed (click on video) to have lunch at the Radisson then off to another island called Tintamare . They have ‘mud baths’ there which are supposed to be healthy. Having been here a few years ago knew that the ‘mud’ is in fact white coral which leaves your skin so beautifully soft and healthy. The only words to describe the beach sand is white and heavenly soft. It could have been a little bit of paradise were it not for the fat; naked; loud mouthed; cigar smoking Americans with their wives or partners also in the buff who were now infesting this beautiful place. I just could not comprehend or understand how they could do this to such a beautiful place. Americans!

Back on board, Peter wanted to show us how powerful his machine was and opened her up on the way back to Simpson Bay where we are staying. For a second or two we literally lifted clear out of the water and flew in the air; the engines screaming away as we landed with huge jolt in a wave trough. He was showing us how he could run the waves as we continued our circuit right round St Maarten on our way back to harbour. As James Bond would have said, “shaken, not stirred.”