Holiday greetings from beautiful Martinique.

Just about any French island is a good choice for Christmas week, and since it's blowing 25 knots and promises to blow for a week, we're very glad that we're stuck right here. Anchored below the fort at Fort de France, we're sheltered from the north and the east, and if it weren't for the *&^%&*!! ferry wakes all day, we'd be sitting pretty much in flat water. With little white caps just now. Randy's just translated the French meteorological report, and it's 25-30, gusting to 40-45 tomorrow, seas 3-5 metres outside in the open ocean.
The enormous Holland America Line Noordam is tied up just behind us, and Randy and I enjoyed about an hour and a half of Christmas shopping with a zillion other people this morning. That's it, that's all our Christmas shopping, and everything he's getting is edible.

On our way back to the boat after a rigorous morning of shopping, we were stopped by the smell of roast chicken. We walked by, and backed up, it smelled that great. Even street meat is more fabulous in the French islands. For 9 Euros, we got a fat little chicken and two big scoops of Creole jus poured in the paper bag with the chicken. Back to the boat, open the wine. Next, slice up some of the chicken, pour the jus in a bowl, rip off a piece of baguette, apply chicken, dunk in bowl, drip on clean clothes, eat, drink, repeat. Burp, nap.

All that's missing in my life, beside my son and daughter, my dad, sister, neice and nephew, Auntie Mary, decent Christmas music, a Christmas tree, a fire in the fireplace, eggnog, a cold Keiths, and, ahem, snow, is the ability to do about four loads of laundry. I've been hoarding the last clean set of sheets for Christmas, and we still have a couple of clean towels. Thanks to Frenchy's, lots of clean clothes, but storing dirty laundry is weird. I'm thinking if I fold it neatly, it will stash more acceptably. I've never really thought about folding dirty laundry before.

We had a lovely, quiet week in Dominica before we got to Martinique. Fabulous sail from Guadeloupe to Dominica, lousy fishing. Nice welcome from our boat guide Albert in Portsmouth when we got to Dominica. Anchored next to us was a boat from the Czech Republic, with two lovely young women aboard. It was a popular boat, and the view was stunning most hours of the day (they must have been out of clean clothes, they were down to wearing those uncomfortable thongs and not much else. Nothing else, Randy notes, and he should know.) Lots of desperately bad Christmas music from Big Daddy's bar on shore at the weirdest hours of the day. All night, short break between 5 am and 6 (a.m.), then back to the disco/Caribbean version of The Little Drummer Boy, and damn, it's awful.

After a night out partying with the Czech girls, Albert the river guide came over for a restorative beer or two, and we got caught up (it's been two years since our last visit) on his family, our family, changes in the neighbourhood, and just generally discussing the state of things. Albert made a trip up the Indian River and got us two lengths of bamboo for a mast and sprit for the rowboat. They're lashed on the cabin top, drying from brilliant green to brown, and by the time we get to Carriacou or Grenada, we should be able to put together a sailing rig for Marjorie D.

Bill and Leona on Voyageur C from Halifax were on their way north from Martinique, and we met up in Portsmouth for a couple of days. Had a great trip to Roseau on the bus, chatting with the ladies. Bill was very popular - he treated all the ladies at the back of the bus to roasted plaintain at one of the brief stops. Bill and Leona look great - cruising life agrees with them.

Sailed down to Roseau and spent a night or two there in that rolly anchorage. Roseau is a lively town and we always enjoy our visits, but the weather was right for a trip to Martinique, so off we go. Another great sail, 15 - 20 on the beam or just abaft the beam, and with everything set, we tromped along, averaging about 7 knots, in 5-6 foot seas. Almost no water on deck! Very poor fishing. We picked up one big barracuda just before we got to Fort de France, and before we could set about getting him off the hook, the knot in the line gave up, and he left with one of my new lures. Bugger.

After a day or so in Martinique, we were starting to be a bit glum about being "Alone" for the hols. Not very festive. Sunday morning, I'm below, and I hear Randy shout "We're saved!" Our friends Michelle and Charlie on Mi Amante had just sailed in and anchored ahead of us. She told us later that she saw our engine running and was terrified that we were just about to haul anchor and leave. No way. So we have friends to spend Christmas with, and friends of theirs, Swedish, and several other Canadian boats have come in since then, so we'll have to go round and say Merry Christmas, eh.

I hear that Canada is set to enjoy a white Christmas from coast to coast for the first time since 1971. I hope it's going to be pretty and I hope that you all have a wonderful time with your families and friends and trees and eggnog and snow. Have an eggnog and a Keiths for me. Not at the same time.
Merry Christmas.