Rodney Bay, Saint Lucia
At 3.50am my alarm goes off. A very quick shower wakes me sufficiently to make it downstairs and check out. Corinne is down on time too and we get into the waiting car to take us to the airport. Wordlessly, we both close our eyes and moments later we've travelled the 25 miles to the airport.
When we arrive I notice my watch has stopped. For someone who's life is ruled by schedules this is up there with losing my passport or forgetting to Sky Plus 'Come Dine With Me', and despite various taps, twists, slaps and downright punches, the damn thing won't start again. Suddenly I realise this is a sign - the next few days aren't the rigid timetable of before. This is going to be Caribbean time; a chance to throw clocks and watches to one side and just slip into lazy tropical mode. How that's going to work for tomorrow's phoner schedule for Spain, Belgium, Luxembourg and the UK I dread to think but for the moment I unstrap the offending timepiece from my wrist and bury it in my bag. My unencumbered wrist feels very bare.
We make it through security with ease, the airport feeling deserted at this time of morning, and board the plane with minimum fuss for a three hour flight. This time, despite the misbehaving pillow, I slip into an easy doze, opening my eyes to accept a breakfast bagel and then again when the pilot informs us we're about to start our descent into Miami.
We land at 9.15am and transfer terminals, thankfully without the need for additional security checks. There's just enough time for a quick coffee and some phonecalls, and then we board our connecting flight to St Lucia.
Corinne visited the island last month to play the St Lucia Jazz Festival and has been offered the chance to return, expenses paid, for a photoshoot and interview to adorn the cover of a Sunday newspaper supplement to promote her album and the new single coming out at the end of July. It's a tough gig and someone has to accompany her. That someone is me. Doing this job can be draining, stressful and very tough on your loved ones, but sometimes the perks are undeniable. I remind myself of this as another soul-shaking yawn almost consumes me.
This time we both spend the journey chatting, catching up on work and doing a bit of reading. Unfortunately Corinne's choice of a book on philosophy outstrips my reading material - volume 3 of Piers Morgan's celeb-drenched diaries. But seeing as it's lain around with not a chance to be read since I got back from my volcano-extended trip in April, I'm determined to finish it by the time we leave St Lucia. It's perfect beach trash.
As we fly we see the Bahamas laid out below us like a necklace of white sandy islands against turquoise seas and then over the next three hours various Caribbean islands pass beneath our flight. Finally we land at Hewanorra airport. The tropical heat hits us with force as we leave the plane, instantly steaming up the lens of my camera. With such extremes of climate shifting on a daily basis it's almost impossible to dress correctly, let alone avoid a traveller's cold when I return.
Our hotel transfer is waiting as planned and thankfully Anthony, our driver, has a cool box full of ice cold water and wet towels which are gratefully wiped over our sweating brows. It's a 90 minute drive from the airport in the south of the island to the hotel in the north. Bizarrely, by chance it's the exact same hotel Corinne stayed in last month for the festival.
As we drive we cross the island from the Atlantic to Caribbean side. Banana trees, blue seas, houses on stilts, lush tropical vegetation and the loud chirruping of unfamiliar birds bring the wonders of St Lucia to life. We climb 1000 ft into the mountains and through the rainforest, getting cooler the higher we go. Mangoes, breadfruit, coconut and cocoa beans are all grown here, creating a sweet aroma on the air.
Windy roads with vertiginous drops take us past white-washed houses with corrugated iron roofs in bright colours. We descend back to sea-level and pass through Castries, the island capital, which boasts the largest cathedral in the Caribbean alongside bustling markets and duty free liquor stores for tourists and locals alike.
Eventually we arrive at the Cotton Bay Village and as we drive through the grounds various people wave at Corinne, welcoming her back. To our astonishment, we're driven straight to the villa she previously stayed in, right on the beach. It's a three-bedroomed affair, with a huge living room which opens straight on to its own private pool with an outdoor dining area, hot tub and gate on to the bay with its curved beach.
My phone beeps with a text. It's from Lyndsey, who's heading up the fashion team out here for the shoot, telling us the day for our shoot has changed, which suits us fine. We make an arrangement to meet later in the bar and finalise the schedule.
While I unpack all my clothes and hang them in the wardrobe, Corinne heads straight for a cooling dip in the sea. Later on I follow her example and the warm waters are gorgeous and richly salty keeping me floating on my back in the little, calm waves. Sadly the sea proves warmer than the shower which only pumps out cold water later. Hmmmm, will need to get that fixed!
About 7pm, although it's hard to know as there are no clocks around and no-one can tell us which time-zone we're in (everyone seems to have a different opinion; Caribbean time indeed) we wander the 50 yards across the beach and have a lovely seafood dinner - scallops followed by a delicious mahi mahi. The sunset casts pink light across the clouds before total darkness descends in super-quick time.
Lyndsey eventually texts us again to say they're only just back from a shoot they've been hard at work on today but do we want a cocktail later on. Considering by this point we've just arrived back in the villa and are both ready for bed we decline arranging to meet at breakfast instead. Corinne retires for the night, and after finishing off some work I follow suit, having checked Google to see what time it actually is.
For the first time in weeks I'm in bed as the clock hits 10pm, and with the sea providing a distant, beautiful and relaxing soundtrack of gentle crashes I drift off, having set no alarm, trusting in the morning light to wake me when I'm ready.
