It's the wee small hours here in the Caribbean, and, as is traditional, I've had to get out of bed to do a small wee.
I made the mistake of turning on the radio, and listening to my replacement, and now I'm so cross I can't get back to sleep. With all this talk of the rainy season approaching, accompanied by a plague of mosquitoes, then the hurricane season, even Margate's taking on an air of Shangri-La.
And there's nothing like a tiny island to bring out the know-all tendencies in some people. At least in Thanet I could drown my sorrows with a decent cup of tea.