There's a dull eerie glow emanating from the fore cabin. That's the one that more than anywhere on the boat used to do a pretty fair imitation of a colander in pretty much all weather conditions except bright and sunny.
Fort two years I've had "remove and fix windows" on my list of things that I hoped would go away if I ignored them for long enough, but no matter how hard I look, they just seem to sit there smiling at us while standing over a puddle of water after rain, like a not yet house trained puppy. It's not much of an inconvenience except for anyone sleeping on the forward bunk, which we are not, but it needs to be fixed eventually.
So today, in bright sunny weather and a bit of the same forecast for tomorrow, I began the job which above all others I just knew would not be straight forward. It's the sort of job where one thing leads to another and before you know it, it's taken two days to do a simple thing.
It's the sort of job from which once started, there is no retreat, which of course is why the rain started unexpectedly, and just as unexpectedly the forecast for tomorrow changed with the job half done.
Maybe we will stay here tomorrow after all.