Arrived back in Barbados this morning, desparately needing sleep. We went to The Edge nightclub last night for some final revelry. It’s an ultra modern club that looked and felt like the inside of a freezer chill room when we arrived. Mist floated around and the temperature had Camella reaching for her shawl. The long rectangular dancefloor, modelled on the one in Michael Jackson’s Billy Jean video flashed red white and blue under floor lights.
The sparcely filled room echoed the heavy, vibrating eighties and nineties remixes, and the bar staff hovered and pounced on us as soon as we were seated. The XL rum we had was the largest and strongest we’d experienced (except when we made it ourselves), but we had to be vigilent, as on the second order we were brought the inferior 5 year version, at the XL ten year price. Good thing we know our rums. It was changed without a fuss.
By eleven the club was heaving, that being the cut off point for free entry for ladies. The crowd certainly knew how to party, including some extremely risky moves on the floor by a couple of young women in extremely short skirts. It was a great night. Not quite in the same way as the oldies night on Saturday as there was, understandably a much younger crowd. We had to drag ourseveles away at two o’clock to try and catch a couple of hours before checking out of the hotel four hour later to head for our flight.
Marcelle and Denis called by earlier, about eight, offering to take us out for a drive and also to do a final interview for the follow up story for Starbroek News. The interest was in the story of the lost purse. Marcelle also had some questions about Dare to Love which she is now reading. We’ve agreed to keep in touch. Told them I came not knowing anyone, and was leaving with a clutch of new friends.
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