The laws of drinking and rugby

You cannot watch the 6 nations rugby in a bar without a beer. It is the law. The fact that the match between Italy and England was due to kick off at 8.30 Barbados time was unfortunate but the law is the law. Four of us made it down to the Champions Sports Bar at the bottom of the hill down to the beach from the now mercifully peaceful Cornucopia and were waiting outside for the bar to open. One can never be to sure about what might happen in the Caribbean. I had emailed and phoned around the evening before to see if anywhere was showing the game, and the sign outside (which, had it been there yesterday would have ensured a good turnout) was encouraging, but with two minutes to go there was still no sign, and then we suddenly we heard the Italian National Anthem and we knew it was going to be OK.

After a great win for England, and a huge fry up of a breakfast back at the villa, it was back to the bar to watch France versus Italy. I was shouting for the French to win for two reasons. Firstly because had they won then England would have won the 6 Nations tournament, but mostly because I had a bet with John “800 years of repression” O Sullivan (he is Irish as the more perceptive amongst you may have gathered) on who would be the victors. (Note to self; withdraw 10 euros from the bank in one cent coins). The epithet in my head stone should bear the inscription “Magnanimous in victory, surly in defeat”.

Cheeky monkey. One of the charming monkeys that live in the gardens of Corucopia checks out what we are doing

Then to the airport to drop Trouble and Brainy Wag for their trip back to London and suddenly the end is in sight for the trip to Barbados. So many things done, so many that will have to wait until next time. I hear there may be some Test cricket here next March which is an extremely tempting prospect, so the gaps can be filled in then.

Last night we went back down the hill to Karibu for one last go at the goat curry, and to trawl for potential customers for the excellent foreign exchange services of Currencies Direct. The Ginger Chafer had recovered somewhat from his unfortunate sand, sweat and resultant uncomfortable affliction (see yesterday’s column, which incidentally produces some very amusing limericks) and was walking more like John Wayne rather than Buster Gonad. We drank their only bottle of red wine, a rather nasty Merlot, before retiring for a last rum punch, a cigar, and another bout of putting the world to rights.

You may think that after such a full week on this splendid island that we would take it gently today before flying back to ghastly Gatwick this evening, but not a bit of it. I am told that we are going for a last walk along the wonderful beaches of St James this morning followed by lunch at the Fisherponds Plantation House at St Thomas in the centre of the islands. This establishment has apparently been the lucky recipient of a Winners Dinners award, as bestowed by the former Sunday Times the late Michael Winner, and even the Queen has eaten there, so apparently we must also be able to say that we have been there as well.

It seems that we must also drive along the coast past Oistens, as we have not seen it on the way back before leaving the villa for the airport. I shall need a holiday when we get back as I am exhausted by the full itinerary that has been composed by That Nice Lady Decorator..

Chris France
@Valbonne_News