Still infused with whatever it was that made us work for most of the day yesterday, we delayed our departure until after lunch to take advantage of another hour or so of shore power. Thus it was that when we finally left it was with every garment we owned smelling of lemon-fresh-cleanliness and Mr Perkins smelling of some sort of solvent which I suppose is the engine bay olfactory equivalent of fresh sheets.
While we were irrevocably struck with the need to move on under cloudless skies, it must be said this was entirely without the inclination to move for long.
Fortunately, little more than a hop and a step away, we found some lovely New Zealanders on their rather ominously named “Winedown” moored in a spot not far from a restaurant which they promised had a splendid reputation for quality and economy and since there was a recent birthday awaiting celebration, the decision to join them was not one which took much consideration.
Some days just come up roses.
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