This year's last lap time was a fantastic experience. I arrived at about 2:00 PM and was immediately swept away by the scintillating steel pan music of Tommy Crichlow, the sea of ftiendly faces, bright costumes and the tantalizing aroma of Guyanese food being served up by the attractive women and gallant men of our community.
Conrad Griffith, Queen's College musician laureate, caressed our ears with his renditions of dozens of nostalgic songs including 'When a Man Loves a Woman' by Percy Sledge, 'Under the Boardwalk' by the Drifters and 'The Great Pretender' by the platters. As I lingered in a crowd of picnic-goers all trying to squeeze themselves into the shade of a small tree, I mused about how Forbes Burnham had encouraged us to find our 'place in the sun'. As I hummed along to those old familiar tunes, I looked around and saw dozens of familiar, happy Limers, some mouthing the words, some gracefully contorting in time to the music. As I chatted with my cousin whom I had not seen for the past thirty years, I momentarily closed my eyes and traveled back in time, back to when I was a teenager. At that time each one of us all fancied ourselves to be James Bond, Sammy Davis Junior, Otis Redding or Rohan Kanhai. I opened my eyes and found myself gazing into the lovely fresh young face of my cousin's teenaged daughter. I hid smile and pretended not to hear as she whispered to her sister, "These old people are freaky!"
Going into the clubhouse to sit and eat my curry and roti, I sat next to a gorgeous lady named Barbara who told me she was visiting from New York. As I was chatting her up, mindful of the fact that my wife was not present and the party would be starting in about an hour's time, up came Mr. DaSilva, one-time Scout-Master of the Georgetown Sea Scouts, now retired Toronto life insurance manager. I introduced Barbara to Mr. Dasilva and related to her his role as a stalwart of the community both in Guyana and Canada. I thought of all the young men who would surely have gone astray were it not for the firm but gentle guidance of Scout Leader Mr. DaSilva and all the new immigrants to Toronto who got their first jobs as a result of his help and encouragement. My heart swelled with pride and my voice trailed off as I choked up with emotion. Sitting there between the beautiful

and charming Barbara and the gracious and elegant Mr. DaSilva, l felt proud and honored to be a Guyanese.
I decided to bid beautiful Barbara goodbye and continue my wanderings.
The crowd in the club-house and the din of one thousand people laughing and talking at the same time was overwhelming. It was like liming outside Stabroek market on a Friday afternoon. Ever so often a smiling face would appear out of the crown and say, "Andrew! Professor Knight!" ('Professor' was my nick-name back in the sixties because I was always involved in some outrageous fireworks experiment or the resurrecting of antique BSA Bantam motorcycles) the person might turn out to be a buddy from the P-50 days, the rock and roll band days...I even bumped into Dennis Rajroop whom I taught when I was a junior lecturer at the Georgetown Technical Institute in 1969!
I joined the ‘coconut water’ line and watched in fascination and morbid anticipation as a friend of mine wielded a machete and trimmed the end of the coconuts then made a small square hole through which we might suck the coconut water with a straw. I kept hoping that he wouldn't cut one of his fingers off in the process. I was relieved when he succeeded in opening my coconut without injuring himself and I promised myself that next year I would find a more ‘scientific’ way to open the coconuts.
On many occasions during that wondrous last lap time picnic, I murmured to myself, "WOW! What a crowd! What a lime!" sometimes I would realize that I was talking to myself. I would then look furtively around me to see if anyone was noticing my soliloquy but I need not have worried ... everyone else was either laughing, talking or singing anyway.
After some fried chicken and sorrel drink, I decided that four hours in the sun was enough for one day (I'm not a kid anymore) so I headed home. As I slowly strolled along down the golf club driveway toward the parking lot, the sound of the laughter and the music gradually faded but a euphoric feeling engulfed me like the warm waters of the Atlantic buoying me up and floating me towards the shore. As I drove away, waving to my old and new friends, I thought to myself, That was the greatest lime ever!
See you next year!"

written by Andrew Knight