Take a fabulous 72 foot Oyster, season with a great crew
Baste in a warm Caribbean sea for a couple of weeks, stirring gently at intervals
Whisk in a few great sails and rest mixture in idyllic surroundings
Throw in a couple of cricket matches, a few little adventures, the odd misadventure, a lot of laughs and copious amounts of rum punches (though this one should probably be omitted)
What do you get? An absolutely amazing holiday.

At least, that’s how John and I see it – just hope David and Di, Ian and Nia enjoyed it as much as we did. I’m Gill and, together with my husband John, we’ve been friends with Di and David for 30 odd years, meeting when Di and I both arrived in Bristol and worked together.

Now, Ground Rules for my account are thus: I know precious little about sailing, though I loved every minute of it and I’ve never been to the Caribbean before which probably accounts for what some would see as over-enthusiasm. (Ian, I can’t help it.)

It wasn’t exactly an auspicious start when David rang, back in October, to enquire whether John would like to see some of the World Cricket in the Caribbean in March 2007. It’s hard to speak when your teeth are gritted but it got easier when I realised Di was going and I was being invited too. Cricket instantly became my passion and I will never mention paint drying again.

March seemed to take an eternity but eventually we were off. Nobody looks forward to eight hours flying but there is so much in-flight entertainment these days, it shoots by. Last time I went long-haul, we had to hire an earpiece to see the one and only film. (OK, so you’ve guessed, I don’t get out much.)

All the bits people tell you about the Caribbean are true. Yes, the people are incredibly warm and friendly. Yes, they’re laid back (sometimes I wondered if they ever went forward) and yes, yes, the sea is deliciously warm. St Lucia immigration fitted point 2 and I did wonder if they would ever let us in but eventually we were off on the 23 mile journey to meet K8 and Ian and Nia, David’s new crew known also as The Anagrams. It would be hard to find a more spectacular location to see K8 “in action” for the first time. She was at anchor in a beautiful sweeping bay which is the setting for a five star hotel but that pales into insignificance when you see The Pitons. It’s hard to describe them. They’re a bit like two towering carbuncles rising from the land either end of the bay.

Ian arrived in the tender to collect us. Now this was another culture shock for me. My experience is limited to the sort of dinghy where you try not to sit down hard if you plan to wear those trousers ever again. I tried to be cool when this white leather-seated speed boat skimmed across the bay towards us, driven by A Man In Uniform. (If I’d have known that Ian would spend the next fortnight taking the mickey out of me, I’d have made sure I landed on both his bare feet thus starting a more balanced relationship than the one which was to follow.) But, at this point, I was in awe of everything. If you’ve been on K8, you’ll know what I mean but I’ve never sailed on a boat of her calibre, especially one you can lie out on without something sticking in you. We were about to embark on a fortnight of sheer comfort and air-conditioned luxury – as opposed to the camping-like existence my previous family sailing holidays had offered. I used to think having one of those water bags you can heat in the sun was the height of luxury.

Amazing how quickly you can stow your gear if all you want is to plunge into the sea. It was bliss – warmer than I have ever known. And then, joy on joy, we all lay and basked in the late afternoon sun with a drink. Nothing else to do except to wonder at the comfort of the accommodation, taking our time to change and just relax until dinner – a dinner I haven’t cooked! It’s a bit funny at first having things done for you on a boat – my family see me as natural galley-fodder – but, to my credit, I managed to adapt very quickly and, Nia, if you ever read this, thank you again. We thoroughly enjoyed every single meal you cooked for us. Fabulous!

David is a great planner and it was a great plan. We would move up north via Marigot Bay to Rodney Bay where the cricket was, stay there five nights, then head back south right down past St Vincent and on to the Grenadines as far as Tobago Cays.

Next morning, Wednesday, having had a wonderful breakfast (the pineapple is oh so much sweeter over there) we snorkelled and that was just brilliant: beautiful coral and fish in every size, colour and shape. Then to Marigot Bay, some 12 miles of gentle sailing in warm sunshine – perfect. It’s a really fascinating place and undergoing lots of upmarket development – sneaky feeling it may lose some of its charm. All six of us ate out that night at the Rainforest Restaurant, definitely to be recommended. And, Ian, the glass of red wine you threw over my white trousers did come out eventually – I don’t want you to worry.

By Thursday morning we were all beginning to adapt to the pace, the pottering pace. It was beginning to feel like holiday mode. Had a good look round Marigot Bay and just sat in the sun drinking a great fruit punch at The Shack. The only goal was to reach Rodney Bay and by midday we were on our way for another good sail, only two hours or so. David tried fishing and eventually hooked a barracuda. Did you know they can be poisonous? I was learning all the time and, next lesson on arrival at Rodney Bay: when it rains, it means it. Equally it stops very quickly and we were soon swimming to cool off. Dinner on boat, five star roast lamb, and then, pathetic though it sounds, bed by 10.30.

Back in October, we’d gone to great lengths to make sure we had really good tickets for the cricket but we needn’t have bothered. By mid–morning Friday, they were letting local schools fill up the empty seats for the England v NZ game. Even our expensive tickets had not guaranteed us shade. It was horribly hot and John and David agreed it was deadly dull and we couldn’t wait for it to finish, the prospect of a cooling swim was much too inviting. Not only that, we were off to street party that evening. And what an experience that turned out to be: genuine carnival, not just something dreamed up to fleece the tourists – it was packed with locals, eating, drinking, dancing – just partying really – the atmosphere was tremendous. We tried all sorts of local food but, in truth, their barbecuing techniques leave a bit to be desired. What we would have given for a Nia meal!

Saturday was just a day to savour – perfect warm weather with a soft breeze – swimming, snorkelling, climbing Pigeon Island with all it’s military history. It’s got Holliday history as well, this is where Diana and her sister stood to welcome home K8 after the ARC a few months before. Nia cooked some Red Snapper we had bought. It looked amazing – completely different when it’s freshly caught – and it tasted divine. We managed to stay awake long enough to try a game of trivial pursuits but we weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or just rubbish questions that made it so ridiculous.

Tough luck chaps! Sunday, John and David had more tickets for the cricket, this time England v Canada. (Yes, Canada does play cricket, though fortunately none too well.) Di and I were off to the Rain Forest. This is amazing and a must if you have even the tiniest interest in ecology. It’s great how they have set the trip up. They picked us up from the marina and we saw lots of the countryside and just ordinary people living their lives. There’s something like an open ski-lift cabin that takes you all the way up and eventually above the canopy. The guide was a beautiful young local girl who’d obviously undergone a lot of training and was very knowledgeable.

Ah yes, this was the evening of an amazing coincidence. We had all been admiring a Bristol Cutter moored quite near us. David went over for a chat and returned with news that the couple sailing her knew John and me (always unnerving!) and they’d come for a drink later. In fact, they came from the same village outside Bristol where we’d lived for many years and latterly we had seriously considered buying their house. They’d sold up, moved to Devon and had this beautiful thing built for them to sail whenever and wherever they chose. OK, so I’m green with envy.

God, Monday morning was a bit of a shock. Imagine a February day at sea in the English channel: grey seas, heavy skies, limited visibility and raining – and the boat was moving when John and I came round. A great result though. David and Diana had woken early and decided that we might as well use the time to put some miles under our belt and so, with a bleary-eyed Ian at the helm, we had set sail for Bequia at 6 a.m. We did 68 fantastic miles – this was such a great sail, good wind, gradually improving weather, with K8 going like a rocket.

Port Elizabeth is a small town (though that might be adding a sophistication it definitely didn’t have) in Admiralty Bay on Bequia. It’s just delightful because it’s so endearingly quirky and “home made”. We went into the local fruit and veg market and I cleverly managed to buy a selection of fruits for double the price he was offering. Takes great skill, that. Today’s rum punches were taken in the bar Mick Jagger frequents. No, honestly, it is true. Dinner back on board was a delicious thai curry which Nia buys from a lady in Antigua. We were fast reaching a stage where we were going to bed earlier every night, so for our own self-esteem, we thought we should try to watch a DVD. By 9.30 the four of us were all dozing in the saloon, much to the amusement of Ian and Nia. Face reality, chaps, we’re getting older.

Slept forever, or so it seemed. Off to Mustique today but not until we’d taken delivery of some great photos taken of K8 sailing the previous day. I’m glad the photographer printed the location on them. It looks more like we’re somewhere off Stornaway. Today is Caribbean weather, all warm sun and gentle breeze. We stopped off on a fabulous little uninhabited island straight out of a travel brochure, all palm trees, white sand and turquoise sea – and then on to Mustique. You can see how it’s achieved its reputation – there are the most amazing houses built all along the hillside and it is just paradise. We watched this massive orange sunset from Basil’s, a fashionable waterside bar, rum punch in hand (no surprise there then) and that is the only word for it, paradise. Did well, all of us managed to stay awake until 10.30.

What is it with this weather? It was quite a grim start and we had spent the night rocking. Scuppered our plans for a sightseeing trip round Mustique – celebrity-home spotting. But it did mean we could make an early start for Mayreau and by the time we arrived around 10 o’clock, it was brighter and, by 11, it was glorious. We spent a heavenly day snorkelling, sunning ourselves, eating (delicious duck, Nia) and supping. We even managed half an hour of a DVD before caving in.

Now, if we thought Mayreau and Mustique were stunning, nothing prepared us for Tobago Cays. David had been before and was keen for Di to see it. This is where you will probably think I am going over the top but it made Mustique looking ordinary. Imagine this vast horseshoe-shaped expanse of coral with every shade of turquoise stretching in bands across the seas, broken only by the white of the waves crashing in from the Atlantic. Then imagine all these tiny uninhabited islands in every direction with nothing but white, white sand and palm trees and lush greenery. Then add a background of warm sunshine and big white fluffy clouds. It is just heaven. Don’t imagine though it was just us, communing with nature, there were about 30 other boats, mostly large and expensive looking. But it doesn’t matter, it’s such a huge space, you can ignore everybody else if you want. It just has to be the ultimate playground. Decide: do you want to swim, snorkel, turtle-watch or just laze around. Any option will be divine. Even by Caribbean standards, the snorkelling is rated at the top and that’s what we wanted to do most. The array of fish and coral we saw was breathtaking. By sun-down, we were ready for our drinks (should we start to worry about just how ready we have become?) A perfect day, followed by a perfect dinner – what more could we want? An early night!

Tobago Cays was just as awesome when we came up from below on Friday morning. If someone had told me I would be snorkelling at 8 a.m., I’d had laughed, but that’s what we did. The best session was later but it did test David’s dinghy skills getting off the leeward shore surrounded by rocks but, as usual, he managed it comfortably. Yet another co-incidence, a banker David did business with some years before recognised him and came across. How did Lord Lucan ever get away with it?

Leaving The Cays later in the day was like an admission of being on the way home and Canouan was a bit of a disappointment. Maybe returning to inhabitation was always going to be a let-down but it was not particularly welcoming to boats. Nevertheless, we felt duty bound to test the rum punch and that lived up to expectations. We were ready for our dinner and getting used to be spoilt by Nia’s cooking. I’m ashamed to say we settled for an early night again – you have no idea how tired this sailing lark makes you.

The best sail so far on this fantastic boat was after breakfast on Saturday, taking us four hours to reach Bequia. There were quite big seas running but K8 just seems to toss them aside and slide through them. We spent our time on the look out for dolphins and turtles, with a remote hope of seeing a whale No whale, but we did see a pod of dolphins en route and we added this count to the two more turtles Dave and Di saw in The Cays.

This time there were no boat boys vying to take our lines when we arrived in Port Elizabeth. It was odd, we had got used to gentle hassle from guys trying to sell us any manner of things but it was strangely deserted. Turns out they are all round the other end of the bay, celebrating the catching of a whale and helping to cut it up. Apparently, it’s quite a party especially as each island is only allowed to catch three a year. So much for conservation.

There’s a turtle sanctuary on Bequia and we went to it on an open-back truck with the driver offering us a guided-tour en route.The guided part turned out to be him leaning out of the cab and shouting at us! This is the thing about the locals, they just see things differently.

“Brother King” who runs the turtle sanctuary is an enthusiastic character, clearly passionate about conserving the Hawks Bill turtle which is being souped into extinction. He picks up the babies a few weeks after they hatch and brings them through various tanks until they reach 2 years or so when he releases them on different islands. He reckons most of them won’t survive but, because conservation is becoming more of an issue, maybe some of them will live to enjoy real protection, not just the lip service there is now.

It seems a bit hypocritical that we all had dinner after the turtle sanctuary at a lobster restaurant of the pick-and-eat variety. But maybe, post-rum punch, we didn’t connect the two things!

Sunday and we were on St Vincent in the “Pirates of the Caribbean” location, Wallilabou Bay. Most of the sets are still there and you can see why this was the chosen location. It is quite spectacular. The local kids use it as a water park and it was fun watching them. There’s lot of boat boys touting all sorts and we engaged one to take us on foot to the waterfalls without any conviction that it was A Good Idea. These guys look pretty scarey and here we were trotting off behind him into the unknown. In the event, he turned out to be very sweet and quite knowledgeable; anything you could eat, he knew about; birds and wildlife, not a clue. It’s such a contradiction, you feel you are in the middle of jungle then some local comes tearing round the corner in a surprisingly up-market truck. Our guide had clearly cut a deal with the local waterfront bar run by one of life’s characters, a one-time film extra, Tony, and that’s where he delivered us. As a newly qualified expert on rum punches of the Caribbean, I should warn you that one in Tony’s bar is enough. Use the other one to wash any open wounds. Sadly, we all had two – but we had enough sense to come back to the boat and have dinner. Tony, however, devastated by our departure, spent the evening doing karaoke on a microphone exalting us to join his party. A quick check on the bins by Ian proved that the party was Tony and, yes, you’ve guessed, Tony. But a visit to Tony is not to be missed – it was hilarious.

Last whole day, we made every part of Monday count. We moved up the island a couple of bays to Chateaubelair – a tiny town of sorts on the shore of a huge sweeping bay. This is another of the plusses with K8. You can get off the beaten track. The bay is not wonderful for mooring, something to do with the swell but K8 can cope and with the fast tender, we were able to anchor in a nice sheltered bit well off shore. The plan was to go the Darveo falls. All I said to Ian was that perhaps we could find somewhere to have a coffee while we sorted it out and he fell about laughing. Was I expecting Starbucks, he enquired. I did have to see his point. Clearly not a magnet for tourists, we found just one place claiming to be a bar. David, the ultimate negotiator, was soon on first name terms with Francoise, the owner, who agreed to make us some coffee – apparently not a frequent request. He eventually reappeared triumphantly with a battered kettle full of hot water, a small dodgy looking jar of Nescafe, a half used tin of Carnation milk, a selection of wet beer mugs and, incongruously, a fine bone china cup, chipped of course! Whilst we made our drinks he organised his mate to taxi us to the falls. Think about the oldest, most battered Nissan you can imagine, then double it, and that is about the level of the heap his mate rocked up in. To boot, he had a handpainted sign on the rear announcing that he was The Baddest Man. From the look of him, we were prepared to believe it but we climbed in anyway. He seemed quite pleased to see us and we learned all about him and his family and we didn’t mind getting out and walking the bits where the exhaust bottomed out! When we eventually reached these remote falls, there in the middle of all this rain forest-like greenery was a solitary man, playing the steel drums. That’s the whole thing about the Caribbean, you never know what to expect.

On the way back we had to move over to let by an air-conditioned people carrier also going to the falls, with passengers from one of the cruise liners, so our man told us. I couldn’t help contrasting our trip ashore to the falls, with all its sense of ridiculous adventure and fun, with their sanitised experience. Eat your heart out Cunard!

No more time, we sailed back to The Pitons, our last lovely sail. Best bit, we saw one, maybe two whales. OK, so we didn’t exactly eye-ball them but they were definitely whales.

Dinner at The Dasheed was not only a spectacular location, looking down from on high through the darkness into the bay with Kealoha looking stunning, illuminated by her spreader lights, but the food and music were fabulous – a fitting finale.

Does everybody wake up on their final holiday morning, with a confusion of thoughts of home and responsibilities crowding in again? We had had a blissful fortnight of sheer fun and enjoyment, seen some spectacular places and enjoyed the company of lovely people. David and Diana are the greatest fun to be with, wonderful hosts, and we are truly grateful to them. Ian and Nia, what can we say? You have looked after us fantastically and we are in awe of your amazing range of skills. To you both and to the remarkable K8, we wish you fair winds and many years of happy sailing.