Reflections from the Retreat December 2025

Often these blogs are about progress on the house, visitors or other interesting events; describing the things that are more unusual to the regular routines of life. So, this month I thought I’d focus on the more everyday – the things that I have got used to, but are perhaps a little different to life in the UK.

Let’s start with the routine upkeep of my car. As in the UK, we pay car tax annually, but here this coincides with the MOT which is done by the police rather than a car mechanic. Perhaps because there is less crime here, the police have a few other jobs and so they are involved in various aspects of transport. When I went to the office in St Georges to renew my driving license, it was a policewoman who took my photo and printed out my new card. It is also the police who often teach people to drive, and they do the driving tests. I guess it helps them to get to know the drivers and know who they might end up arresting later down the line!

So back to my MOT test. Each area has certain days of the week when the police are available to do the checks and for this area we go to the local fire station (in the photo below). This is because the police are also the fire officers. The first stage is getting through the administrative part – bringing proof of the paid tax and up to date insurance and showing my driving license. There are no appointments, it’s just a first come, first served basis and so drivers and cars gather. We watch as each other’s cars get checked and share encouragement or commiserations. As with most events here, it is a social gathering. The driving tests are sometimes like this too with young people gathering at a fenced off part of the local bus park. They watch each other navigate through narrow poles that the police have arranged to simulate the narrow streets of Grenada. They then watch with anticipation as the anxious young driver goes onto the roads to navigate the reality of Grenada drivers, with their uniformed passenger holding on tight.

So, what does the MOT test look like here? It’s as much a test for the driver as it is for the car. The policeman asked me to turn the engine on, so far so good, then to indicate right and then left (which I still need to consciously work out which is which) but I managed to pass that part. I’m then asked to beep my horn- for those who know Grenada, you know that this is one of the most essential parts of driving here. We beep to say we are going around a corner, beep if someone is coming out of a side road, beep to say you’re too close, beep to say Amen passing a church on Sunday and beep to just say hello! If the horn doesn’t work, there’s no point going on with the test. Then I was asked to switch on various lights which was a real test because my car automatically puts the lights on. So, I had to quickly get my glasses out and check the diagrams on the indicator lever and move it as required. I then waited for further instructions while this tall, thoughtful policeman walked around the car holding his clipboard and checking tyres, looking at the body work and writing things on his form.

It was all going so well until he asked me to open the bonnet and then he called me out of the car to inspect it with him. He bent over and pointed to the inside metal work with the top of his pen and asked if I could see the dirt. I had been told by a few friends to make sure the car was clean before the inspection and so it was gleaming white on the outside, but I had never considered cleaning under the bonnet. He then very graciously and gently but with the assertiveness of a six-foot man in uniform, explained that my car had failed its MOT because there was dirt in the bonnet. I was shocked and annoyed because this would mean having to come back and queue again. But as he explained the dangers of dust, I could understand his logic. He explained that living near Bathway Beach meant that my car could gather dust and sand which would gradually cause the car to rust unless it was regularly cleaned inside and out. In my defence, I later realised that most of the dust was probably sawdust from when the builders were cutting wood on my balcony, directly above my car. We had also had a spell of Saharan dust fly over which must have added to the small thin film of dust that was concerning this thorough policeman.

Thankfully he said that if I cleaned it and came back, he would check it again. So, I raced home and got my cloth out and gave it a good dust. I have now put a cloth in the car so that I am ready to do it in situ if it happens again! As with most places here, they close for an hours lunch, so I got there while he was still on the balcony enjoying his lunch to be first in the queue. Others had also had the same idea and so we waited while he munched his lunch and then he started his afternoon of inspections. I’m sure you will be pleased to hear that with a brief look under the bonnet, he signed my form as having past my MOT. I then had to go back to the administrator with my form for her to print out a certificate to say that it had passed. However, her printer wasn’t working very well and so this took longer than the inspection. Perhaps their printers need regular MOTs too! As he told me himself as I left, I had learnt something new that day. I promised the friendly but serious policeman that I would l look after my car better, so it is less likely to rust and I drove away happy.

Living near the beach, rust is my ongoing nemesis. It eats away at door locks, metal items in the kitchen such as tin openers and cake tins and various parts of my car. I have needed to replace the window motors in some of the car doors because they rusted away and my sun loungers from England are gradually rusting. I picked up an old rake that had been fine for years in the UK and the metal handle disintegrated in my hands and became a mound of rust. In the Summer I bought a zipped cover for my new rotary washing line so that it wouldn’t rust. But what I didn’t expect was that the sun cracked the plastic cover so this all disintegrated into pieces within a few months! It’s the price I pay for living with a sea view!

Another aspect of car maintenance here, which is different to the UK, is the amount of times I need to pump up the tyres. This is because the roads here are so uneven and bumpy that they are not good for the tyres or the car suspension. Thankfully my car is good (in fact probably a bit too zealous) about telling me when the tyre pressure is low and thankfully, I have my own little air pump that I can use. But sometimes I have found it is easier to stop at a garage and pump them up there. Unlike the UK, I don’t have to pay for air because it is free here. While I think of garages, another difference here is that there are pump attendants and so you can sit in the comfort of your car to get your petrol, or gas as they call it here. When I went to the UK last year, my local garage attendants were concerned because they hadn’t seen me for a while and welcomed me back on my return.

Another difference I noticed was when I went to pick up my car after its service at the Mitsubishi garage in the capital. I asked where they had parked it and they pointed up the road, and I could see its roof on the brow of the hill. I then asked for the keys, to which he replied that the key was in the ignition and they had left the engine running. It wasn’t the only thing that was running as I raced up the hill before someone took my car. However, as I left the office, we laughed about how different it was here to the UK and that if it was London it would have gone by now. However, having lived in London, my instinct was to still race up the hill as fast as possible, even though I knew it was safe. I have noticed people leave their cars open here, particularly when they come for a swim at Bathway, with some even leaving the keys in the ignition. I guess it gives something for the security officers to keep an eye on.

That’s another difference here. There seem to be security officers everywhere. The banks and some shops have security officers on the door who are more like porters who greet you and open the door. They also act as queue monitors particularly in the utility offices. When Hosten and I first got the house and we would come on holiday here, one of our regular duties was to go and pay the bills. I have now moved to paying online but many people still do it the traditional way of visiting each office at the end of the month and queuing to pay. The security officers in these offices are very good at spotting people who are trying to jump the queue, by chatting to a friend and sneaking in. Again, this routine can become a social event with the same people meeting at the end of each month to pay their bills. They go to the water office to pay their water bill, then cross over to the electric office and pay their ‘light bill’ and then walk down the road to pay for the internet at a third office. 

Getting my hair cut is much the same as in England and I have found a good hairdresser who is used to cutting English hair. Sherma (pictured below) is very entrepreneurial and as I sit in her chair having a trim, I survey the clothes and hair products, handbags and shoes that are displayed around her shop. By the time I have finished I have often seen something I would buy if I needed it and so I’m sure she does well with people having to look at her stock for such a long time. If that isn’t enough, she also has a take away business next door and every now and then a head pops through the hatch into the shop to ask for more change or to pass her or her assistant a snack or a drink. She began with doing nails which she still does and she also runs a sweet shop in an ideal location opposite the primary school as well as doing events catering. Her motivation is her children's education and she is currently funding her eldest to complete her Masters in the USA.

Her shop is next to the fish market and by other small stalls. Last time I was there, a man was cutting coconuts outside and another was roasting sweetcorn.  So, as I waited my turn for a haircut, I enjoyed a warm, juicy corn on the cob. This week when I returned she had put out a stall in front of her shop to sell Christmas decorations and gifts - after twenty years of business she is still developing new ideas.

With the rainy season just coming to the end, my grass had grown tall again with all the rain. So, my gardeners have just been to cut it. Often in the UK I associated the sound of lawnmowers with Summer whereas here there is more grass cut in the rainy season. The ground is too uneven for mowers and so people use strimmers, though they are called ‘weed eaters’ here. If a person can afford to buy one, they can provide him with a regular income. I often see someone walking down the road carrying a weed eater on their shoulder or even getting on a bus with one. People are particularly busy at the moment getting their gardens looking nice for Christmas as well as perhaps giving their house a fresh coat of paint or buying something new for the kitchen. There are a few flashing Christmas lights decorating houses here, but it is a refreshing change from Essex to just have a modest amount of decoration with no nodding reindeer or excessive light displays.

So, as we think of the Christmas story, we remember that it is a celebration of God coming into the ordinary everyday of the world. It’s a reminder that we can see the Divine in the mundane moments of life and to see the sacred in the regular routines. The community which I am part of, Contemplative Fire, has been reflecting on Advent poems by Malcolm Guite. The last two lines of his poem on wisdom say –

‘Come, hidden Wisdom, come with all you bring,

Come to me now, disguised as everything.’

A reminder of the Unseen Reality that is behind our everyday reality, which is still there whether acknowledged or not. There is often a reminder from Christians to not forget the meaning of Christmas and to see the Christ amongst the festivities of Christmas. But beyond Christmas, there is also an invitation to see the Christ in the everyday hassles and joys of life. At this time of year to see Christ in the last-minute shopping, in the faces of those we love, in the lights of a candlelit service, in the joy of gift giving, the peace of a day well lived and the hopes of the year to come.       

Happy Christmas and New Year to you all.