...and relax

So, how to sum up Hopkins?

Dull just about covers it.

Anyway we got off the bus and saw the signs for Kismet Inn at the crossroads. '10 minutes this way' it told us.

Lie.

It took ages in the baking heat!!

Oh well, on arrival we were greeted by Elvis, the Garifuna lover of Trisha, the owner. Trisha is probably best described as eccentric but she made a good host and cooked us a lovely meal both evenings. Fresh fish followed by fresh shrimp. An ex-New York-restaurant owner, Trish knows how to cook! The only down side was David, the village idiot who turned up uninvited, drank Trisha's rum and crunched his way through my leftovers...a fish-head...and eyes.

The second night's shrimp dish was the best... no crunchy head, no eyes, no David. Tonight's entertainment was Trisha regailing Elvis' bedroom ability. Nice. Try imagining your grandma telling you about her new found wealth of sex-life.

The constant positives were the view, the peace, the breeze, and Czar the black Labrador. He was lovely and always wanted to sit with you and cuddle. He was quite sad when we arrived as his best friend had recently been snatched from the banks of the lagoon (a mile up the beach) by a crocodile. As he witnessed the whole thing he was obviously traumatised and sat staring at the sea for long periods.

If you decide to go to Kismet please bring Trisha the latest Clive Cussler Dirk Pitt novel!!!