Today, we visited St. Lucia.

Unfortunately, the weather took a turn for the worse, and it rained pretty much all day. I didn't have a tour today, so I just took the 20-minute walk into town and back, and got thoroughly drenched in the process. Don't get me wrong, the temperature was still 24-degrees, but there was something undeniably depressing about it, like it was raining with attitude. Many people didn't even bother to leave the ship it was so manky outside, preferring to view what little could be seen through the sheets of driving liquid-sun from the comfort of the Braemar; a couple of tours were even cancelled due to the bad weather and dodgy coastal currents.

This is all a bit of a shame really, since at 5pm, when the ship set sail for Antigua and folks made their way out onto the aft deck for sailaway music and dancing, the skies brightened up and for the first time in the day, we could actually see what a beautiful island it is. Very green and mountainous, its highest, volcanic peaks rise up into egg-shaped domes on its distant horizon, and I felt a little sorry to be leaving it and slightly guilty for having felt so down on it, particularly having spent all afternoon in my cabin working; I've had to prepare an extra workshop as I've just found out that Antigua is only a half-day in port, and tomorrow afternoon they need a painting class. I also took the opportunity to tart up the paintings that I've done so far during the previous workshops, in preparation for the end-of-cruise exhibition we'll be holding on Wednesday.

Antigua will be the last port until Wednesday, and it feels like we're very much on the home straight now. On Wednesday we'll be touching US soil again and having to endure their strict immigration procedures, then on Thursday it'll all be over...

The most interesting conversation I heard today was between a vet and a builder on my lunch table. She was describing how dead animals are prepared before being bagged up and put into the freezer to be disposed of, and what a pain it is when the owners change their mind and come back asking for their precious little dog or cat to go bury it in the garden after all. Thawing them out and making them look fresh and spritely (or relatively spritely for a dead animal) is an art in itself apparently. The bloke opposite (the builder) told us this story of a neighbour whose cat, was found flattened to a pancake in the middle of the road. They were absolutely distraught of course, and beside themselves with grief, and eventually, after they'd calmed down they vowed to do the right thing by burying it in the garden. They planned it beautifully; a ceremonial lowering of the coffin and a few words from each member of the family. Three days later, their neighbour on the other side opened their garage to take the car out, and out bounded the dead cat - alive and well and wailing to be fed!