Fond memories of being despatched from the party room in the Hamilton Princess as a Student Nav/Student Captain pair to get in some booze for the compulsory hours-long debrief. In the local supermarket we were approached by a large chap wearing a pair of the shorts that the island was famed for; he claimed he owned the supermarket and having heard our British accents would like to invite us over to his house for a drink to celebrate the Queen's birthday. Faced with the possibility of being used as sex toys by locals or going back to the Staff Captain's interminable stories (he was renowned for not letting the studes get out and about in the town), we almost knocked each other over in the rush to get into our new best friend's van.
It turned out that he did own the supermarket (as well as a sizeable chunk of the island_. He had his own rum blended for him by an importer and it was freely available from a barrel in his back garden (where he also kept pot-bellied pigs who would take your feet out from under you when they heard the tap being turned on the barrel). He invited over a few friends who included a WWII USAF pilot who flew Liberators, his son (a Rhodes Scholar) and a few of the local bigwigs. Five hours of fascinating conversation and amazing hospitality later he took us back to the supermarket and presented us with a slab of beer and a litre bottle of Goslings Dark Rum each.
We wandered back to the party room where the rest of the Student crew were now feigning death in the desperate hope that they could escape via body bags and were greeted with a gruff 'took your bloody time' from the staff skipper.
Have loved Bermuda ever since...