Caribbean dream’s put on hold
Inearly missed my column deadline this week. To tell you the truth, I was sulking. Anyone who can be bothered to listen to me wittering will know that my Bath Comedy Festival pals and I are currently supposed to be installed in our rustic cabanas on our favourite little West Indian island of Nevis.
The comedy festival is in April, but what with periphery events such as Burns Night and the buildup of the New Acts Competition, it takes all year to organise.
We spotted a window in all this activity that corresponded to a rare British Airways cheap offer in this friendly and unspoilt destination.
Needless to say, our trip has been postponed. Three times. Our modest accommodation isn’t included on the government’s quarantine list. The only options available are top-of-the-range places that cost per night what we are paying for a week!
This being my twelfth visit to Nevis, I’ve been packed for over a year. Sunscreen, mozzie spray, an array of brand new and neatly folded Hawaiian shirts, a fabulous micro-light beach towel and a copy of Trees of the Caribbean.
Nevis is so casual, one really only needs to pack very lightly, and one can wear one’s shorts and sandals on the plane, though inappropriately dressed and clutching a lukewarm Ginster’s on a freezing Reading station platform on the way home can prove daunting!
On arrival at St Kitts, we take the scenic route to the far end of the island where a little launch awaits, ready to whisk us across the choppy channel to quaint Nevis and our hotel’s rickety pier.
From then on, it’s literally toes in the sand, whispering palms, chattering monkeys, diving pelicans and mad bus rides into town.
Our favourite taxi driver has emailed this week, asking where the hell are we? She says the island is leaping back after lockdown, and there are many high-end shops opening. I’m not sure what she means by high-end. On hearing this, we listed the things for sale in the bustling capital’s main department store.
These included wheelbarrows, mobile phones, buckets, wart medicine, watches, conch shell ornaments, Auntie Lily’s homemade hot pepper sauce packed in old Coke bottles, rum, coconut milk, photo albums and baby clothes.
The only thing missing is Ronnie Barker in his Arkwright character, for this is the corner shop to beat all corner shops!
High-end? Has Swarovski opened a branch next to the vast Flamboyant tree in the main square? I hope not.
Another taxi driver told me that things were going downhill on the island. I imagined she meant knife crime and drug gangs but turned out she was referring to ladies turning up at church not wearing hats!
So, you can see why, as I look out my window at the drizzle and take in all the depressing global warming predictions, I have got the grumps.
But then, we’ve got Friday Night Comedy at Widcombe Social Club to look forward to. I need a good laugh. I might even wear my shorts!
By the way, the new talking newspaper Month in Bath provides local updates, highlights from the Chronicle (including this column), recipes and sport to help visually impaired people connect with what’s happening in our city. Go to to hear the latest edition.