remembering to drive on the left, we wheeled off the dock onto Bay Street 
and up the narrow lane past the Post Office to the Police Station for 
inspection and licenses* Buts don’t inspect cars here any more; that 
is done at the station on the west side of town near Fort Charlotte*" 
Much backing and filling to get back onto Bay Street again. Off we go, 
everybody peering for the Traffic Department. No signs, of course. At 
last we are at Fort Charlotte and there is nothing left as a possibility 
but an open field on the left with a small weathered shanty on one corner 
at the back of it. We have a try at it. Sure enough, inside the shack are 
some policemen and a couple of desks. We sign the papers, show our 
drivers licenses, are given a sticker for the windshield saying we promise 
to leave the island by the first of September. Now, license plates. 
"Those are issued at the License Department. It is up the hill." We go 
up the hill towards the fort itself. Could the License Department be in 
one of the dungeons? No signs, no markers, no buildings# We decide against 
looking in one of the dungeons and turn back. The first alterna-tive way 
lands us in the courtyard of somebody’s home. We do not ask for license 
plates there ~ though we would not have been surprised to find them there. 
Farther down the hill another road turns off. No signs, no markers, but 
suddenly another little shanty — the License Department. For two pounds 
we are issued a sot of black-and-white plates. We are ini 
June 27 
Two weeks have gone. Wo have become used to the new look of Lyford 
