So, a day of DVD watching in a shack built over the Carribean sea, I have been on harder courses :-)
In the evening we munched down on some local food which was excellent - even if the owner had a somewhat acquired taste of a sense of humour.
Another early night to wake up to ...
Pissing rain. No, really really hard rain. Warmish, but by the bucketful nonetheless.
Trudi momentarily forgot she wasn't in that fancy London and tried to flag down a black cab to take us the ten minutes up the beach to the Dive School. It turned out to be a golf buggy. Hey-ho.
After many hours hard work and cramming, both of us passed our theory tests. Which means we just have to avoid death over the next three days to get our tickets! (Trudi is concerned about the number of mentions of death in the Dive Manual - our instructor, Michelle, says that nobody's died yet on one of her courses. We don't want to buck the trend.)
We are now in the world's most expensive Internet cafe - but they do bring beer to you - so it's not a complete wash-out.
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