CQ, CQ, this is a 12-metre set of Head Hawk Power 17g, calling anybody with a sore elbow. Co-polyester monofilament at 1.25 mm, built softer and more powerful than standard Hawk — it gives a little more back at impact and passes a little less shock up the arm, while keeping the control that makes a poly worth having. Noticeably friendlier on off-centre contact, too. One set, one racquet. Over.
Basseterre next, and I have verified every one of these. Over.
We begin at the Circus, a small roundabout in the middle of town laid out in the 1860s and deliberately echoing Piccadilly Circus in London, with the Berkeley Memorial at its centre: an ornate green Victorian clock-and-fountain monument to a local planter and legislator, carrying four clock faces. Four, because it is a roundabout and traffic arrives from every direction. Claim checked. Confirmed. Over.
Then Independence Square, palm-lined around a fountain with Georgian townhouses on all sides. It was laid out in 1790 as Pall Mall Square and renamed in 1983 when the country took independence — and before it was a pleasant place to sit, it was where enslaved people were bought and sold. That is not interpretation, that is the record, and it is written on a plaque that almost nobody reads. Over.
Then St George's Anglican Church on Cayon Street, grey stone with a square clock tower in an old walled churchyard. The French built here in 1670 and called it Notre Dame; the English burned it in 1706. Rebuilt. Then fire. Then earthquake. Then hurricane. Then fire again.
This building has been flattened and put back up more times than anywhere else would tolerate, and they keep putting it back. Read the gravestones. Over.
And we finish about nine miles north-west at Brimstone Hill Fortress on its steep volcanic outcrop above the sea — the Gibraltar of the West Indies, built up over roughly a century with every stone hauled up that hill by enslaved Africans, which is the part the postcards leave out.
In 1782 the French besieged it for about a month and the British garrison surrendered; the war then ended and the British had it straight back by treaty. All that stone, all that suffering, settled by men at a table in Europe. Over.
You will string this set everywhere from a hard court in Basseterre to a breezy court over on Nevis across the channel, and by the way, it is also perfect for a Friday evening lime on the Bay Road, where the signal is good, the range is short, and everybody is receiving. Over and out.
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