Due to the toaster curfew, I cheerfully knock on Adam’s and Rachel’s bedroom doors to wake them and drag them out of their pits, then we put the gennaker up and sail into Road Town, anchoring just inside the breakwater at Village Cay/Wickhams Cay.
It is time for Mike and I to deal with “Island Bureaucracy”. I am actually surprised that Mike allows me to accompany him for this as he knows my temper is on a short leash. Our task for the day is to get our cheque for the bond we had to pay back in January for our work permit. The $1700 each is to pay for our air fare back home if the government of the BVIs ever has reason to deport us. This is refundable when you cease working and/or leave the territory. We ceased working in June and if you have been reading the blog, will remember that we gave due notice of our pending departure just over two weeks ago – in writing, as requested.
We arrive in the Immigration Department to be told that we should have gone to the Treasury Cashier’s Department, practically the other side of Road Town. The fact that I was told to ‘return in two weeks for the cheque’ led me to believe that I should return to the government department where this was stated, but obviously not.
Mike and I trudge to the Treasury. We are told that they have no record of us or the fact that we need our money back. We are told to return to Immigration. We trudge back. Immigration tell us that they have definitely sent the paperwork to the Treasury and that we should return there. We dig our heels in and ask them to phone the Treasury and see what has happened to the paperwork. They are reluctant to do this but eventually they do. They come back a couple of minutes later and say that the Treasury do have the paperwork, but they don’t know when the cheque will be issued. I remind them that we are leaving the territory soon and need a definite date when we can get our money. They guy at Immigration has no idea when the cheque will materialise. I ask him if he will call the Treasury for us and find out when the cheque will be ready but he refuses, telling us that we have to go back to the Treasury, but at least this time he gives us the name of the person he talked to!
Back we trudge. All this trudging, by the way is done in the heat of the midday sun. Lovely. The guy at the Treasury smiles and says “Back again?”. Returning the smile is not easy but we manage it. He still says he has no record of us so we mention the Treasury official’s name and he calls her, talks, then hangs up and relays her message - all the cheques have been issued for this week - it might be issued next Friday. Next Friday is when I need to be in St Martin to meet my sister and her family. I throw a quiet fit and he quickly ushers us round the corner to meet the named official.
She searches her database for any mention of Jean Beswick, Michael Beswick or Jeannius. There is nothing. Eventually, she finds us registered under Michael Jean Beswick. Hurray, we are there, and the pending cheque is for the right amount. But she reiterates that we have missed the cheque run and there won’t be another until next week. At this point I am so frustrated that my eyes start to water and I start blubbing about having no income and having to get to St Martin – all of which is true. She says she understands our predicament and will try her best to have the cheque ready for this Friday. She was pleasant and seemed genuine. We will see.
We trundle back to Supa Value to buy some shrimp, get back to Jeannius then Mike, John, Simon and Rachel go to Bobby’s to buy the last of the provisioning.
We eat lunch sailing over to The Caves at Norman Island. Just as we arrive, the fishing line goes out, Simon reels in a tuna and Mike gets it off the hook. We pour alcohol into its gills and it quickly goes still.
We all go snorkelling – and I mean everyone – Rachel included, who now discovers, nearly at the end of her holiday, that she loves it.
After the snorkelling we motor around the corner and anchor near to the Willy T, where we will eat tonight. Adam is particularly interested in eating at the Willy T. He has heard stories about the naked ladies on the bar with whipped cream on their bodies, and is hopeful of eating barbecued ribs. I don’t know which thought spurs him on more!
John volunteers to gut and fillet our tuna. Mike and I are happy to let him – I remember my bloody finger nails from the last two times!
Once the tuna is filleted, I thinly slice it, mix it with wasabe paste and sesame oil and it gets eaten straight away. The rest goes in the fridge for tomorrow’s lunch – yummy!
As it is now low season, Mike assures us that we don’t need a reservation. We decide to eat later than usual and arrive at the Willy T around 7.30, to be told that we do need reservations and there are loads of people before us – we just have to wait. Adam looks through the photo album and we all watch, with amazement, the video of still photos showing past naked antics at the bar. There are indeed many stills of the type Adam has been hoping for, probably quite an education!
We eventually get our food at around 9. Adam has his longed-for ribs
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