Legends from our own lunchtimes

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Basking in the afterglow of a day of filming, or perhaps it was my forehead having spent just an hour or five too long in the sun, we knew that we had to leave, and having made that decision it seemed sensible to leave early.

Of course the party of the night before did temper our best intentions somewhat, and we had to collect all the empty plates which had been distributed among various boats around the port laden with cake or dinner or whatever else the Captain deemed the recipient was in need of during the course of the week.

We had then to bid our farewells to everyone, then get some gas, some diesel, say good bye again, linger a bit longer perhaps then do the rounds one more time just for luck.

By four we had to decide whether to stay one more night or go, and that is how we came to be snugged up alone among the reeds in Parroy, eight kilometres and a world away.

We had just eaten in the early evening, and were settling down for our first night away from the umbilical cord of our home port, when there was a rustle in the grass beside the boat.


Jacques and Maggie it seemed couldn't stand the quiet. Actually there was a modicum of business attached, and to be fair they did promise not to check on us again until Thursday.


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