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Rich and famous

Not me obviously, I grew up in Catford, but whenever I can I like to get amongst it, you know, have a nose and rub up against some big shoulder pads. Our summer plans got derailed so we were looking at quick breaks, easy-ish to get to from here, and the Google-search-other-half found us a short break in St Barts, or Saint Barthélemy as it is known in French France.

The volcanic Caribbean island of St Barts is what the French call an overseas collective, which puts it in a similar category to Bermuda and it’s relationship with the United Kingdom.

So we leave today. Miami first then a three and a half hour flight to Saint Martin, a confuddled mix of Dutch and French Republic. From there we jump on a seaplane for a 15-minute journey across the waves to St Barts. And we are there until the weekend.

St Barts is less than half of Bermuda’s size and has only 9,000 inhabitants compared to the 60,000 here. It is very beachy and has a Swedish and French history and I’m looking forward to having a gander around the capital of Gustavia. The island has some great places to eat and laze and some cool looking drives. However it is the glamourous visitors that elevates it’s reputation and pretty much all you can find when you Google it, which explains how the other half found it.

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