A very handy wooden hut was close by for changing, kit storage, and anything else you might need such as heating up water for a brew. Someone even fitted a lock on the door; maybe they put it there to remind us mainlanders of home. Since the smuggling days, I doubt the island has seen much crime outside of the odd rustling of lobster. You can drink in the pub but with no cars or roads, you can’t drive. There’s nothing to steal and if you did you couldn’t really hide. On an island with a population of just twenty people, I expect you learn to get along or get off. I really couldn’t wait to see the pub and the buildings, to get a glimpse of the sweet simple life that grows rarer the world over as ‘progress’ takes its place, but first, we hit the water.
