For the last Japanese class of the term we had to write up a recipe following the standard "Japanese recipe speak" and provide a picture of the dish.  I decided to write up a soup recipe and that I might as well make the soup and provide pictures of the various stages.  This is stage one, assembling the ingredients.

The Dunedin concert went quite well.  It was followed by some wine and nibbles in the church hall then more wine and nibbles at Siobhan's.  The following day found me having wine and nibbles at Claire's while watching the Strictly Come Dancing final.  I've seen bits of the show from time to time but this was the first time I've watched it in its almost entirety.  (Thanks to bus chaos I arrived a wee while after it started.)  I won't be holding my breath for the next series to get going but it would be churlish not to express my admiration for the effort and skill deployed by the contestants.  And it was Scotland's night. The winner by public acclaim was wildlife cameraman Hamza Yassim whose home is Ardnamurchan.

The next day I set off for The Bahamas.  From Edinburgh I flew to London and on to Miami where I spent the night.  A deal of tedium was involved in the journey but no particular difficulties arose.  The following morning I went back to the airport which was doing its best to celebrate the season with scenes like this

and met up with Ewan for the short flight to North Eleuthera.

It was a joy to land at an airport that brought back memories of Kitwe.  The terminal building was a bit grander. Hard to believe from the picture perhaps.  The principal feature that the two airports share is  that from leaving the aircraft you can get to the perimeter fence in a dozen paces and inside the terminal there are not miles of corridors and stairs and little trains and so on and so on.

We had to queue for a while since the small number of immigration and customs staff were busy dealing with an outgoing flight.  When we did get in I discovered much to the disappointment of the guy who hoped to earn a buck from carrying it ten yards from the luggage trolley to the customs bench that my luggage had not arrived.  I gave all the details to the very friendly American Airlines rep and then settled down with a coke on a cafe verandah from where I took this picture of the landward side of the terminal to wait for Fiona and Connor who were coming in from Nassau a little later.

They arrived safely with their luggage on a little plane that had been a bit cramped and whose crew had handled things a bit more casually than is the rule in major airlines.

Then we piled into a taxi and drove a few miles to a place called Gene's Dock to catch the little ferry to Spanish Wells where in a golf cart and a backie we made the short trip to this lovely house

Some of us were a bit tired after the jouney

Spanish Wells is a small place, population around 1500, with some pleasant beaches, pretty much deserted while we were there, a couple of supermarkets, a few eateries and not much more.  The mainland which is how Eleuthera is referred to by the locals is very long and thin.  We had a car for a couple of days but didn't want to spend all day in it so we only explored the northern section including going to Harbour Island.  According to our waitress at lunch there it's an island that never sleeps. A description reinforced by the speedboat style ferry that took as there.  That was certainly not true of St George's Cay on which Spanish Wells sits nor of what we saw of the mainland.  There are not too many sights to see.   So it was a quiet holiday with mixed weather.  We caught a bit of cold wind and drizzle from the weather system that brought so much chaos to the US and Connor's enjoyment was marred by a dose of flu which lasted up until the last couple of days.  Here are a few pics

The Sandbar Restaurant

Chrismas Decorations with Talking Santa

Preacher's Cave, used for services for 100 years in 17th/18th century

Beach at the bottom of our street

Ewan and the restaurant across the street

Windswept palm

Pool to plunge in.  We didn't.

Another place we didn't plunge into

Signpost to other islands

On Harbour Island beach

Boarding the Ferry to Spanish Wells

Ferry passengers

I could put in more but you get the idea.

The journey home was a bit faster than the journey out thanks to the jetstream and it was also a little more eventful.  At immigration in Miami I presented my passport expecting to be waved through but after three attempts to take my photograph unsuccessfully and after lots of staring at screens and incessant keying at a terminal the man in the booth said "stand there an agent will be with you shortly".

And indeed another immigration guy strode up grabbed my passport, which now had an orange paper stuck in it, from agent number one. He told me to stand against a wall and disappeared to return shortly trailing another passenger with him.  He motioned for me to follow.  Three steps later he threw open a door and barked "wait in there".   

Heart in mouth I asked "What's the problem?"  Astounded at my temerity he glared and said "You're due an inspection."  That meant nothing to me of course.  Could he mean a strip search I wondered. 

There were two or three dozen people sitting around and a row of open cubicles from behind which voices emanated.  I couldn't see the agents who generally called out names for people to present themselves.  A big notice forbade photography, eating and the use of phones.  Ewan had gone through some fast track residents channel so wasn't aware of my situation and I didn't want to blot my copybook by making a phone call but eventually managed to surreptitiously get a text out.  At one point an airline employee went round asking who was an American Airlines passenger.  I stuck my hand up.  He scanned my Miami-London boarding card, told me that AA now knew where I was and assured me that I didn't need to collect my luggage.  I had no intention of doing so.  It was checked through to Edinburgh.

Eventually a garbled version of my name was called out with a cubicle number.  I went up.  My passport was in the air on the end of an arm.  I still couldn't see the person but the voice declared "You're good to go buddie"or maybe it was "brother".  I made my  way to the exit where there was yet another check on my passport.  This time the agent asked about my travel and whether I was travelling alone. That he suggested was why I was temporarily detained.  Still doesn't make sense to me.

Anyway I caught the flight, watched quite a good film (Where the Crawdads Sing) , was served a frankly tasteless meal which I subsequently slated in the review BA asked for.  We hit London on time.   The Edinburgh flight left punctually and I got home about midday.

What have I done since then?  Nothing worth recording except Phil's succulent, melt in the mouth stew with dumplings for lunch on New Year's Day and his scrumptious mackerel pâté served on Naomi's delicious homemade bread.