This was the longest Christmas Eve of my life, extended as it was by the four hours time difference between Grenada and the UK.
But by six o clock local time I was sitting in a bar ten metres from the crashing waves, drinking a rum punch and thinking of my friends back in Somerset who would be drinking bitter in the Lamb at Axbridge at this exact same time.
The journey was long, but actually passed quite quickly. I had resented the fact that Monarch airlines expected me to pay £2.50 to get headphones to watch the inflight entertainment (but apart from that it'll be no expense spared, like I said), so had to eschew the screens (though luckily one of the films was Mama Mia, which I didn't feel like seeing again - it was better without sound). It seems petty when airlines charge for things like that, but I guess in some ways it's better that you get the choice.
I was really tired and still a bit flu-ey, but it was one of the least stressful plane flights I've ever had and soon enough we were walking into the airport building, where a man was playing carols on a kettle drum and someone was handing out rum punch. The sun was shining and it was immediately obvious that we'd done exactly the right thing. Though it will be a few days before I am properly relaxed, even at the airport waiting for our transport I could feel the weight of a busy year lifting from my shoulders.
The hotel we're at is very secluded and consists of just ten rooms and a little bar restaurant, but it's right on the beach in a little bay and there's hardly anyone around. Within twenty minutes of arriving I was bouncing around in the cold and salty sea and half an hour later we were in the bar. No hammocks, which is a shame, but plenty of fresh fish and sunshine.
It's going to be a happy and unusual Christmas.
