Day four, deep in the Blue Mountains, a horn sounds, no goats bleating as the slaughter must take place on a Monday rather than a Tuesday, and early this morning clouds rolled in and wind blew hard, and it rained briefly.

Previously, the day was, let’s see, cover to cover reading of Jamaican classic comic novel, “The Lunatic,” by Anthony Winkler, a nap thrown in, club sandwiches we made in the cottage, and a start of, “Emma.”

That night: Dark rum and lime juice, pepper pot soup, oxtail and rice and beans.