I’d celebrated re-emancipation of calypso finals from the unnecessary touristiness of Dimanche Gras, and return to a two-song format, as an opportunity to attend and savour the best of this year’s calypso in one sitting.

That purer brine / And wholesome dew called rosmarine.

But at that moment he is sprung upon by a panther billow leaping over the bulwarks. Wave after wave thus leaps into the ship ...

homely fare