Really it all started the night before in Harbour Lights in Bridgetown where we took full advantage of the ‘drink all the sickly rum punch you can for 50 bajan dollars’ offer and invented a game called musical table dancing. My mate, Pikey, tried to rip out his own eyeball at the end of the night; forgetting in his drunken stupor that he wasn’t wearing his contact lenses. He was left with a red and bruised eyeball for the rest of the holiday.
A painfully full bus journey into town brought on the start of the beer sweats. My mood brightened when I was able to purchase an energy-replacing red drink, but waned when I spilt it all down my white T-shirt. It was bloody hot so I spent the morning session contemplating buying a straw hat, but the bloke wanted USD 25 for something that would make Geoff Boycott commit homocide, so I opted for sunstroke. Later in the day, I saw Mike Gatting. He hasn’t lost weight. And has no dress sense.
Today I wore my Victoria Beer wife-beater top. The sun left me with two ridiculous white stripes over my shoulders.
By now I know nothing but drinking Banks Beer and getting sunburnt. I’ve never seen Banks Beer in England but have decided it is a fine beer, so I have a discussion about the possibilities of importing it with my mate Smartie. We have a viable business plan, but can not remember it by the end of the drinking session.
We went to the Boatyard in the evening. This place is only 45 bajan dollars to drink all you can and it has a pool table. Why did we waste all those nights in Harbour Lights? I enjoyed some bumping and grinding with the local girls, but didn’t feel confident to adopt the dance moves the local chaps employ on them, which appears to border on rape. Pikey had to be taken home early. Pikey pissed himself in the night and then got into the wrong bed. Coombsy was not amused to awake the next morning with wet Pikey lying next to him.
By the afternoon session, I decided I had seen enough of this Sarwan chap, so I decided to spot boobies. Apart from one particularly fine pair in a red bikini top (saved in the memory bank), all others were attached to men with large beer bellies. Never before in my life have I seen such a plethora of fat people. I think that’s the primary reason Mike Gatting was there – for a self esteem boost. Saw Sir Viv whilst in the burger queue, but my burger was cold, overpriced and not satiating. I’m sure the food is usually quite good in Barbados, they just wanted to make us feel at home.
Contemplating the possibilities of either another wicketless day and the nailed on draw or a Jamaica-like collapse, neither of which were particularly appealing, we elected to spend the last day on the beach. I saw some turtles when I was snorkelling in the reef. There was a much better array of boobies to take in than there had been at the Kensington Oval.
I had a really annoying bint sat next to me on the plane home and got no sleep. Straight to work from the airport for a 14 hour day. Tuesday was the first unhappy day for a while.