Home Tour Diaries Let’s put it all together

Let’s put it all together

by Midnight

The day begins with another delightful hangover at Maracas Bay.

It is a beautiful sunny morning and today when Martin our taxi driver arrives to pick us up he seems to be in a slightly better mood than usual.

He is probably thinking “ thank God, only three more days of this “ and as if to prove the point as the vultures play happily on the beach and we load up into the taxi , Martin has tuned in the God channel on his radio.

Well , today is Sunday , as no doubt Wycombe would say.

As the taxi departs we listen intently to the holy music floating over the airwaves and then – The Stylistics. “ Lets put it all together”.

For those of you unfamiliar with this classic the words are faithfully reproduced here.

“ Lets put it all together. Lets put it all together. Lets put it all together. Cos loving is all there eez”. St Paul eat your heart out.

This is sung by the Stylistics in a falsetto voice by a guy with falsetto balls but fortunately the semi-drunk Streetfly and Midnight are even better at conveying the holy message , and Martin is treated to the full version from the back of his cab all the way into Port of Spain. By the time we arrive at the ground Martin has his familiar haunted look back.

The first job today is to retrieve Five-O’s iconic yellow jacket, which you may recall he accidentally left at the ground the previous night.

Five-O approaches the stand steward who duly refers him to “the supervisor”.

“ Excuse me kind sir , I left my jacket here last night and I wondered if you could let me have this back now please”

“ Errr – weve thrown it away”.

Oops. No doubt some local tramp is by now wandering the streets of Port of Spain in a nice new jacket thinking Christmas has come early.

Gigi has a reasonable suggestion for the fuming Five-O. “ Never mind love , you could buy a nice sleeveless gilet like the one Midnight wears every day to the cricket”

Five-O reacts to this idea as if he has been asked to swallow a tablespoon of hot cyanide and retires grumpily to the bar to drown his grief on Carib beer.


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