Time is ticking toward our departure to Martinique next weekend. Saying that, we have a number of things to be getting on with.
Jack’s new dive computer faulted yesterday on its second dive. Having been delivered from the Mares branch in the US to the main dive supplier in Barbados, it is labelled a smart dive computer. For some reason, it wouldn’t turn on when Jack began his descent. Then, as he ascended and performed a factory re-set it, the computer instead logged him at 188.2 metres deep.
Over twenty-four hours later, it still thinks Jack’s in the twilight zone. Not so smart really. And it won’t stop beeping. In the end, I wrapped a flannel around it and hid it in the nav desk. At least we don’t have to listen to the constant warning alarm. It’s ok. He doesn’t have oxygen toxicity. But maybe you computer, maybe you do.
This wasn’t exactly what we were expecting. We need to try to get it fixed next week. Or have it sent away and delivered to Martinique. We are about to find out the vagaries of dive computer warranty/refund/exchange. As if it isn’t hard enough just to get to Martinique. For me the idea of moving anywhere feels as scary as an exorcism. We are going to actually move. In a functioning pandemic.
I will always remember Barbados as being our safe place. Our dive haven. A place of characters – all under the protection of Auntie Mia.
Five more cases of Covid have been diagnosed here – from repatriated citizens returning from the States. These were the patients’ second tests – since people coming from high-risk areas are having not one, but two tests. These cases tested negative initially, and were caught after the first period of self-isolation. They are now up in Harrison’s Point, being monitored. Overkill for some places. Standard practice for Barbados.
Prime Minister Mia Mottley has been doing interview after interview in recent days – promoting Barbados’ new, year-long welcome stamp visa concept. The government are set to finalise a programme where anyone in the world can come – and live and work remotely in Barbados for a year. ‘If they feel they can work better in a more relaxed atmosphere such as next to a beach,’ the Prime Minister keeps saying. I bet she smiles like a cat when she says it.
I turned to my family and asked, ‘What do you think? Shall we take the offer? We know the island, we know some of its fine people. We know that it’s safe here.’
I didn’t know what to expect. Mild enthusiasm? At least a laissez-faire attitude perhaps?
‘No way!’ they replied in unison. Then they said, ‘We’ve got to go somewhere new. We’ve had enough of staring at the same beach. Doing the same thing day after day. It’s good and everything here, but we might as well live in a house if we’re going to live like this.’
Ok. I conceded to the numbers. Still think they might change their minds. In the meantime, we’re going to have to travel – with masks, tests and quarantines. Not before a party in Barbados though! We had Saturday Mölkky on the beach with friends. The competition was fierce – for Wendie and Shona’s picnic food. Heaven.