Good morning from Cafe Nero in Station Square, Cambridge, on a very warm, humid and overcast morning. It reminds me of similar mornings in Grenada in the West Indies. 

The town of Grenville, on the east coast, looking out to the Atlantic Ocean, was cooler than the capital, St George's, on the Caribbean Sea.

There was a particular gap between two buildings in Grenville, which acted as a funnel for the Atlantic breeze. It was blissfully cold standing there. Furthermore, you could eat freshly-made Power ice cream, hand-churned and flavoured with Guinness. 

It’s a beautiful island with mountains and lakes. But life was slow. Very frustrating for a Westerner. As I fell into the Caribbean way of life, I too walked slowly. I called out ‘Good Morning’ to all my neighbours by name on my way to work. And answering ‘Good Mornings’ would come from unseen occupants within the properties.  

I acquired a Grenadian accent. I became a familiar figure around the town. People stopped staring at me. If someone wanted to catch my attention but didn’t know my name, they would call out, “Eh, Yellowman.”

Well, there are a few shafts of sunlight coming through the clouds here in Cambridge. I am being transported back from the Caribbean to England. An angry baby is shrieking for attention here in Caffe Nero.