The last of the great “wedding and honeymoon” posts from me, then I’ll leave you alone with all the romantic shit, ok?

We left last Monday, the 5th of July, on a flight to Antigua – we had been booked to go to Croatia, which remains high on the list for us both, but we had a change of plans. We booked it as it flew from Gatwick thus, if there were any further BA strikes, it wouldn’t get cancelled. We also booked it because we had points and a business class voucher that we knew that if ever there were a time to burn them up, this would be it – a wedding is surely the one time that using those is worth it, yes?

(OK, yes – historically I have a bad track record on this whole matrimony business, but let’s move on from that, yes?)

We had booked a honeymoon room at the Sandals Resort in Antigua. Neither of us has ever been on an all-inclusive holiday in our lives, but we thought that having everything taken care of would be a good idea. It didn’t hurt that Antigua’s down-season is now as well, and rooms were 60% off. We found out that all food, watersports (heh), diving, and drinks were included. When we found out that included alcohol we figured they hadn’t seen us coming.

The place was beautiful.

Tropical and warm (my allergies bailed completely! My Reynaud’s was without a trace!) and gorgeous.

And the first night we were there we both larged it on the champagne and we slept nearly 11 hours. This might seem like nothing to most, but to two chronic insomniacs with toddler twins, this was amazing. Truthfully, we spent a lot of time sleeping – naps, 10-11 hours of sleep a night…it was heaven.

Since we’re both keen divers we got right to it. The first day we were there we had an orientation dive where you basically have to prove that you’re not a total tool and know what you’re doing and earned the dive certifications that you have. We did so under the watchful eye of the Divemaster there, a man called The General who took no shit, did not fuck around, and ran a tight dive ship.

We proved we weren’t total assholes and then went diving with a handful of others, with the assurance that if we didn’t fuck up the dive we’d be allowed to dive two tank dives the next day.

Diving is a curious thing – there is one solid truth that I have learned over my 15 years of diving experience and that is this: the more poncy dive gear you own, the more of an asshole you are. No really. Particularly if you are newly certified and have gone out and bought everything. Do that and you’re guaranteed a spot in Dickhead Hall of Diving Fame. I have had more dives shortened or even aborted due to people mucking about with their dive gear. It’s as The General said himself – he’s been diving with people with a veritable Dell Laptop strapped to their arms, it doesn’t make their diving any better. We dove with people with the poshest gear who were the worst divers, including one woman who crashed into absolutely every single piece of coral in her path, which therefore meant the coral was dead and couldn’t recover. When we go places we bring our mask and snorkel and borrow everything else from the dive shop. This almost without question means we are first in the water as we’re not busy fussing with kit we don’t understand, we just get on with it. So if you’re a newbie diver, don’t buy all the kit. No really. Take it from a long-time diver. Rent and enjoy your dive instead.

The days kind of blurred. If we weren’t diving we were sleeping, hanging out by the pool bar, or relaxing in one of the restaurants.

When I dove I wore a tankini. When I wasn’t diving, I got a bit brave and wore the bikini that Alastair bought me last year. I felt quite brave doing that, a 36 year old woman with her first bikini. I read by the pool. I read in the pool.

And I naturally mis-heard Alastair when he told me I was getting burnt all over, thinking that I needed to top up the sunblock on the front only.

We had sunsets.

We had dinners where we talked and laughed and ate too much.

And that’s not even mentioning the ocean, with it’s sugar beaches and crystal blue waters.

We flew back with the same crew that out with we flew there with, the honeymoon was that short (the BA crew said we were the shortest amount of time on honeymoon in Antigua they’d ever met), but then we have two small people, my folks had to get back, further honeymoon time would both bankrupt us and mean that we’d have to dry out our soggy drinking/sleeping/scuba diving asses, and I don’t have permission for leave from work (hi tough project!) and we had to get back. It was good, though. Relaxing and warm and perfect. I don’t think we’d ever be interested in a Sandals-type of thing again but it was nice to have everything included. In general we like to get to know a place, explore, get ingrained in the culture. Not this time. I confess we spent the entire time on the resort and the dive boat – all we did was sleep, eat, relax, read, drink and yes, shag like bunnies. Neither of us are very good at relaxing and just being, but we gave it our all on this trip.

We’re home now.

And I’ll stop boring you with wedding and honeymoon stories from here on.

And it has all been very, very good.

- S.

PS – the songs kept playing during the reception, and the song we finally got our first dance to was Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight”, as recommended by fellow twin mum Hopeful Mother. Thanks for that, I owe you one!