Day 2 in paradise, and only 3 full days of 39 left for Mrs Foggy. Last night was entertaining after a full days soaking which was quite refreshing, the roof gave way and soaked one poor lady, so they were moved to another table and the waiter proceeded to chuck her drink all over (accidentally of course). on a different table one girl became I’ll, stood up and kept wobbling and we had the old dear who had been left on her own for the evening by hubby, wanting to join in our scrabble game but she was too drunk to even see straight.

And today Mrs Foggy and I got up at 7.15 to go do an hours Yogi in 80 degree sunshine, fools or what. So now fed and watered it’s a day of leisure by the pool and only 2 hours until a BBQ lunch, oh yummy.

After a wonderful evening meal and the obligatory 2 glasses of FizzyBoobly, Mrs Foggy and I retired for the night, to the cacophony of sounds including birds, dogs and millions of cicadas.

Under guidelines from the WHO (nope not the Doctor variety), all resorts have to “fog” the entire area with mosquito repellant (will take a picture this evening). It’s quite an eerie view and resembles a 1970s B movie called The Fog.

After a leisurely layin to 7.45, we went had brekky and saw the tour rep. Mrs Fogg determined she wasn’t doing any tours this time miraculously purchased two of them (a cable car ride into the canopy and a Segway tour of Rodney Bay, ok so we get to play on Segways again so I will let her off).

The rest of the day was spent by the pool, swimming, eating, chillin and dodging the wonderful rain storms.

Tonight it’s glad rags for another spectacular evening meal and a chance to spend time with a very beautiful lady.

Made it, Virgin flight was ok, well apart from miss clutse the air hostess who dropped everything.

Arrived at Hewonarra airport, got the helicopter across and then private hire to the hotel. So as at 3pm EST (8pm to you bobbies in GMT land). 10 mins transfer for us, two hour transfer for the bags.

We went to the bar for a dwinkies and Mrs Foggy has been nicknamed Norty Forty because of her T-Shirt by the staff, think she was a little mortified at that.

Now two weeks of sun (85 degrees each day), sea and relaxation.

5.30am up, Mrs Fogg with an unusually short shower of sub 45 mins (amazing I know), out and at the airport for 6.45.

We got a fast pass to avoid the long security queues, but after searching for 10 mins and following signs, it transpires that it doesn’t open until 7am ish!

Eventually through security Mrs Fogg has desperately been trying to cover her T-Shirt up especially because of the strategically placed 4 and 0.

Oh well sat in the Servisair lounge enjoying free tea, coffee and breaky. Next stop is the plane and then St.Lucia in about 8 hours.

Ahh hello hot, sunny weather.

Ah Loverly, arrived at the airport with 3 hours to kill, had a glass of fizzy boobly and a pizza, then to hear the announcement that our flight to London is now delayed for an additional 1.5 hours.

Now I wouldn’t mind but Manchester Airport is small, dirty, has 1 pizza place (where we watched a waiter sweep food off te seats witha fork before puttin it back on the table), one motorway food dispensary, a small W H Smith and a small Boots. Not much to occupy you for 5 hours because someone forgot to put gas in the aircraft before leaving home and now they can’t get it back.

Next stop more alcohol.

And today we kick of Mrs Fogg’s birthday trip. Bags packed, car loaded, cat boarded and we is outta here.

Enroute to the airport via Chez Caddie and a light bite, chat and a wonderful early birthday prezzie, thank you Stu and Jen.

On my birthday venture into adulthood, Mrs Fogg forced me to wear an 8inch flashing badge with my age on it, ah revenge we love your cold servings. I have waited 3 years for this moment and guess who gotta wear this T-shirt for the entire journey. Good luck Mrs Fogg.

At 4.32am this morning Spike decided he wanted up and feeding because of the big ball in the sky! Thanks mate, so I got up and duly fed him, only to be advised by his pitiful stare that what I had offered him, didn’t cut the mustard and he wanted something different.

So who’s trained who in this scenario?

Still with a view like this across the graveyard and the fact we are holiday, makes you feel good to be awake, ah well sod this for a game of soldiers I’m off back to bed.

Best phrase I’ve heard all year, form an US colleague when asked how his day was going:

“I feel as tho I’ve been shot at and missed and shit at and hit”

Gotta love em.