One of the unpleasant surprises about Barbados for me, especially coming from Fondes Amandes, St Anns, as I do, was what passes for soil here. Viewed from a taxi coming from the airport, the freshly ploughed cane fields look black and rich; viewed from the top end of a garden fork, though, the picture changes. The first time I stuck a garden fork in it, six years ago, and, St Anns/former cocoa estate style, yanked the fork back, the wooden handle snapped off and the steel tines of the fork itself remained unmoved: the Bajan “soil” had it in its death grip. It’s like rock.
Unless it gets a little wet. Then it turns into, not mud, but something like super-sticky