Whilst on the way to Playa Ancon a few days ago we pasted through a tiny fishing village at the mouth of the river Guaurabo called La Boca (The Mouth). I asked Ricelda if it was worth going. She said there is hardly anything there, just a scruffy beach, a few casas and a handful of fishermen. To me this sounded perfect.

The village was delightfully dead. In fact the only movement was from a few people half asleep in creaky rocking chairs on their front terraces. (Probably on holiday from Viñales, rocking chair and all). 

I left Dan by the sea in the shade of a palm and went to find us a Casa. It didn't take long. Right next to where we got dropped off was a charming little house painted bright pink, only a few meters from the ocean. A lovely old man called Manuel lead me to a private room out the back with an ocean facing terrace. It was a no brainier. To make things even better he said his wife could cook us lobster for dinner for about £10 each with starter, dessert and a beer. 

As we were nearing the end of our holiday all we wanted was to sit about in the shade dozing with a beer, in-dispersed with a dip in the sea. To me this place was perfect. 

Manuel and his wife Maria have lived there for over thirty years. She pops into Trinidad to do the shopping and Manuel runs their tourism PR operations. This consists of dozing on the front porch and with their little dog Lillo and a parrot called Clorla.

On my first morning I took a stroll to see what was around. Not much was the answer. It took ten to fifteen minutes to walk a circuit of town. 

Near the mouth of the river is a little beach mainly visited by local families. A little way up in the river mouth, a collection of shabby wooden fishing boats were moored at a rickety looking harbour. A few of the fishermen sat lazing about in the shade of a tree, with the mornings catch strung up on the branches for sale.

As I walked back to our casa, a local onion merchant walked past me completely covered in dangling strings of red and gold onions. Think Mardi Gras beads only bigger and smellier.

The rest of the day was wonderfully uneventful. The highlights included a two-tone lizard, a nice sunset and a cooked fish with an olive for an eye.

After our final ocean view breakfast we said our farewells to Manuel and Maria and hit the road back to Havana. Emilia had sorted us a room for our final night next door to her apartment. Unfortunately her place was booked. After a cracking dinner in a restaurant called El Chanchullero, we bar crawled until we crawled. All that was left was to make it to the airport the following day. 

We arrived at the airport round 5pm so Dan could make his 7:30pm flight. Unfortunately mine had been changed from 8:30pm to 1:20am the next morning. To make matters worse it’s only a tiny airport and you can’t even enter until three hours before your flight. Thanks Eurowings! With nothing much to do I sat for roughly eight hours writing this post. Now more than ever I feel I am ready to come home. For a start two mosquitoes are working together in a sort of distract and plunge technique that I am struggling to avoid. Plus I’m missing Helen, my folks and friends. However probably most of all, I miss being able to drink out the tap and throw toilet paper it the toilet...

Ok England I'm ready.