Greetings and salutations my ravishing readers!

I am honoured and thrilled to be the travel correspondent for the global phenomenon that is emmaheaven.com. My name is Lady Perdita Fitzwilliam Tudor-Croft, Perdy to friends, Ditsy D to family and Dirty Dita to my unsavoury exes, but you can all call me Lady P.

Happy New Year my fellow fun fiends!

Little ol’ moi has taken one for the entire team, not just #TeamHeaven (thanks ladies!) and writing this latest despatch while basking in the sun, stretched out on a lounger, sipping cocktails on a rather fabulous beach, in….drum roll please…Jamaica!

It just goes to prove, that if you throw enough toys out of the pram, then you can get your own way, however, one will not gloat too much and keep schtum from here on in just in case Emma decides to teach one a lesson in the not too distant future.

Being banished to Outer Mongolia is NOT top of my list, even if it is on Daddy’s wish list for me. And I swear I overheard #TeamHeaven chatting, or should I say plotting and cackling, about sending me to Benidorm.

I didn’t hear much amongst the gales of laughter, interspersed with someone saying I should road test the latest mobility scooter a la Madge (the leather-skinned mother in the Benidorm TV prog!) Can you imagine me, a lady of the landed gentry, spending a week playing bingo, singing karaoke, eating pie and chips, washed down with pitchers of lager at one of a gazillion British pubs on the seafront? As proud and as patriotic as I am, I must draw the line at having to wear what seems to be a (compulsory) holiday uniform made entirely from the Union Jack flagprint!

Anyway I digress, back to the beautiful Caribbean island of Jamaica, which is awash and well-blessed with a lush topography of mountains, rainforests and most importantly, reef-lined beaches, which is where one is currently sat, or lounging (to be more precise) drinking in the beautiful scenery - turquoise seas, white powdery sand and the most gorgeous beach waiter one has ever set eyes on. He is so delectable that one is tispy by 10am every day, thanks to the copious amounts of cocktails on order just so one can peruse and appreciate his pert posterior…

In between such decadence and wannabe debauchery, one has hauled one’s bones off the sunlounger to visit the famous Dunn’s River Falls, near Ocho Rios. They featured in the very first James Bond movie, Dr No, which featured Sean Connery and Ursula Andress. I must confess though, one had a slight mismatch between expectation and reality - not so much a sophisticated and sexy Bond girl having a bikini moment; it was more of a tangled, shipwrecked mess and a highly embarrassing wedgie debacle, which I’m still trying to forget with rum!

When my gorgeous beach butler heard about my maritime misfortune, he kindly gave me some special brownies he’d baked himself. So sweet of him. I’ve never tasted anything quite like them - not unpleasant, but they had quite a strange aftertaste, one felt positively weird for a good few hours after eating them. I also had constant giggles and felt overwhelmingly relaxed and happy. After the mother of all sleeps, I was absolutely ravenous when I awoke, swiftly polishing off a huge plate of spicy Jamaican patties. They’re a spiced up version of pasties, which I’m told are a pastry delicacy originating in Cornwall and sold throughout the UK in a shop called Greggs - I must look out for them next time I’m down Sloane Square. Who says I’ve lived a sheltered life?

I asked the beach butler for his special brownies recipe. He offered to bake me some to take home, along with an extra batch for a friend of his, which he wanted me to deliver. Alas I’m already over my luggage entitlement, and Daddy has already reduced my credit card limit, so I don’t want to pay for any more excess baggage.

As an alternative, my beach god has offered to email me the recipe along with the address of someone who can provide the extra special ingredient. One was rather perplexed that I wouldn’t be able to get everything delivered by Fortnum & Mason, as they usually have a very extensive and eclectic range. Perhaps our family cook can ask her aunt, Mary Berry, if she knows where we can source it if I can’t get to North London anytime soon. Otherwise my well-travelled cousin Hugo, who has the greenest fingers and the world’s largest plant collection and hothouse in his basement*, might be able to help us out. *It’s actually a wine cellar, but Hugo’s drunk it dry. Decided to diversify into horticulture - more lucrative apparently. Who knew eh?!

Anyway. Back to Jamaica...and swimming with the dolphins was delightful and infinitely more fun than swimming with the sharks one usually consorts with in London! The dolphins by comparison were cute, funny and highly intelligent, plus they have the added bonus of being very photogenic. Sound like anyone we know?! Hint, hint...

Evenings here have been a very jolly affair, aided and abetted by lots of ‘sex on the beach’. Ahem! Some decorum please. Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m not *that* kind of gal. Well not any more I’m not... It’s the name of a cocktail. There’s been lots of dancing on the beach to Bob Marley songs - they do seem to be rather fond of his music and I must say it is very catchy. I shall introduce Daddy to it. Help him loosen up a bit.

There’s been fireworks on the beach every night, alas none with my beloved beach butler, but give me time... I may be a tad biased, but London does them best - there’s nothing quite like watching the London Eye explode in a myriad of shimmering sparks like a mutant Catherine Wheel! These are best viewed from a river boat bobbing about on the Thames, although it can get rather choppy and one gets tossed about if one’s not careful. But it’s still preferable to being stuck in the crowds thronging the banks. I wouldn’t want to have one of my panic attacks, as one gets a little claustrophobic. I’ve blown many things in my time, but it does look a tad unseemly to be huffing and puffing into a brown paper bag - unless it’s my American cousin Farrah’s bag again from Bloomingdales. She was so understanding. And it cleaned up a treat once the housekeeper had finished spot cleaning it....

One has been invited to do some diving, but I must say, I’m not very comfortable with going down below for too long, so instead, I chose to do a spot of snorkeling. Once I got over the shock of the rather unflattering and cumbersome equipment needed - I looked terribly unappealing in my mask and flippers with a giant tube attached to one’s mouth.

However, I soldiered on and I cheered up considerably when a charming chap said he thought I’d styled it out perfectly, and thought I was paying homage to our beloved original ‘IT Girl’ Tara PT. The delightful TPT once turned up to a red carpet event wearing nothing but a fur coat, bikini and a snorkel mask - very fashion forward! When one finally plunged into the sea, I was overawed and mesmerised by the fish swimming in the reef. I think it will be a while before I go back to my favourite fish restaurant and partake of their ‘cousins’!

And so I sit here, thoroughly content with life, cocktail in hand, on this idyllic island contemplating where I will be deployed to next. One’s passport has been renewed and is in need of a damn good stamping. My immunisations are up to date, so I can be sent to any part of the globe required at a moment’s notice, so be kind and generous please Emma. One doesn’t usually beg, however…..xxx

Toodle pip darlings…

***Note to #TeamHeaven travel angels!

I hear that Mardi Gras, and all that that entails, is coming up, which gives you a plethora of places and activities to choose from.

I don’t know what the travel budget’s like, but I’d like to stake an early claim on a little overseas trip to a carnival. I don’t want the only thing to be tossing in February is a pancake dahhlings, and the only thing getting squeezed is a lemon.

Next month is also Valentine’s day - don’t even think of sending me speed dating. I am still carrying a torch for my Caribbean cabana boy. And a small piece of my heart will always belong to my ginger prince.