Legends from our own lunchtimes

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Soaring with eagles.

Ahh yes, the list.

Perhaps I could just pop down to see how Tony got on for a bit….

"Goodness is that the time?"

I could stall no more. With the inside of the boat now clear of tools and spare parts and in now way attributable to any endeavour of yours truly, I hid in the engine bay all afternoon with degreaser and toothbrushes, trying to give Mr Perkins a bit of a facelift, or at least to impart some semblance of respectability to give at least a fighting chance should some strange mechanic in a faraway place have need of seeing something that needed to be tightened or adjusted or heaven forbid, repaired.

He looked quit pretty after it really, a bit like a dog after a bath, all shiny and bouncy and we know that just like said dog Mr P will roll in oil and filth at his earliest opportunity. Just enough to make him smell a bit of course. But he looked good for a few minutes.

A few windows and a deck scrub later, we somehow found ourselves yet again watching the sun go down from someone else's boat, sitting down to dine too close to eleven to even bother checking the time. We are getting dangerously close to departing for summer, as are most of our friends of course, and the air is full of lingering and unspoken farewells. Within days we will have all gone our separate ways.

It's a strangely warm emotion that envelopes us, none of us want to leave really, but that would be defeating the purpose of being here in the first place.

It is time to fly.


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