Saturday 31st July
Well, they often say you couldn’t make it up, and this is most definitely a case of truth being stranger than fiction.
It stopped raining an hour ago for the first time in three days, so me and the crew legged it straight down to the beach, and dived gratefully into the sea. While we were splashing around enjoying the return of the sun, Mrs Muck pointed out a naked black guy, strolling along the top of the beach near our towels. He stopped, looked around, then walked into the gap between some buildings that we use to enter the beach from the main road. He reappeared a couple of moments later, and to our shocked eyes was wanking slowly (but surely) with his eyes firmly trained on the nubile young thing in the white bikini that was sitting near us (and that we’ve had our eye on all week). He continued for a few terrible yet hypnotic seconds, then disappeared back down the alley way, and thankfully didn’t return. I must remember to put my flip flops on before walking home.
I was desperately hoping the that the neighbourhood policeman who patrols the boardwalk turned up during the show to see how he would handle it (the situation) but alas he did not. I have to say though that the local bobbies look wicked scooting around the beach on their police issue Segways, and they prove it really is possible to look cool riding one.
None of us saw Handy leave the beach, until Fifi noticed he was missing a little while later. But when I popped home to get some more beer I saw him loitering at the top of the alley way in his gold thong, which is now nauseatingly the same colour as his sun damaged leathery skin, giving the effect of him being naked. I made sure I came back to the beach a different way, and thankfully we haven’t seen either of those back alley dwellers since.
Last night me and Mrs Muck went to the annual calypso comptetition, which is part of the Cropover festivities- the carnival to celebrate the end of the sugar crop. It was really good to experience some authentic Bajan culture, but to be honest we both prefer soca to calypso. Soca is like very fast jump up calypso, with ragga over the top of it. It is mucky as hell, and there is one tune that has become the anthem to our holiday. It’s by Hyper Dawg (great name) and I was so chuffed when I found a copy in Bridgetown yesterday. I’m gonna be rinsing it on Muck FM when I get back- get ready for some dirty, mucky soca beats!
As I said earlier, the weather has been really disappointing for the last couple of days, and I really hope it’s going to pick up again before we go home. We killed time by doing some shopping in Bridgetown yesterday (Mrs Muck is going to be paying more tax than Lester Piggot if she gets stopped at customs with all the local rum she’s taking back) and we ate out on Thursday night at a fabulous restaurant called Brown Sugar which specialises in traditional Bajan food.
If the weather holds in the morning we are off on a catamaran cruise for a few hours, and I’m trying to convince Mrs Muck to fork out some more money for another Cropover event tomorrow, which is like last night’s calypso battle, except this time it’s soca. I think she’s been a little put off though by the rather tame atmosphere last night. There were a few people gently nodding their heads to the music, but in all I have to say the Bajans are a very reserved bunch of people (as well as very well educated and polite). Apart from a couple of the more popular songs last night which had everyone swaying, most of the night was conducted as if at a theatre rather than a popular music event. Maybe the crowd were concentrating on the lyrics, which are often very satirical, and as such a vital part of each song. Or maybe they’re all barries, I don’t know.
The soca night promises to be much more uptempo, and I sincerely hope we will witness some authentic Caribbean bogling. Fifi is practising her moves now with her gold hotpants on, which match Handy’s thong (bought together as a his n hers limited edition “never too old for gold” matching set from Gucci. Amazing what you pick up at church jumble sales in Brighton). She is looking mighty fine, and with Mrs Muck promising to wear her newly acquired rasta hat, complete with fake dreadlocks, and me in my Ali G tracksuit and phat trainers tomorrow night, we are gonna blow the Bajans away Muck style!
We may head out to St Lawrence gap tonight to party a bit as well, as a bit of a warm up for tomorrow, depending on how much homemade rum punch we’ve downed.
Well, it is Saturday night after all!