Legends from our own lunchtimes

Sunday, July 24, 2016

On any Sunday.

Did I hint yesterday that working on someone else’s problem was going to be painless?  That was clearly before a morning spent upside down while wedged into tiny spaces and bailing noxious goo from the bilge in full contortion mode.   It did bring back all sorts of memories of that wondrous first month aboard our “Joyeux”, some of them happily suppressed until now.   There was even a fleeting moment I confess, when thoughts of the car sitting idle a few metres away and images of the road out of town flashed temptingly before my eyes. 

But there’s something about being able to dismantle someone else’s toilet, declaring it beyond one’s ability to repair before handing them the parts and retiring for lunch that is entirely more satisfying than being unable to repair something belonging to oneself. By afternoon tea time the list of things in that category had grown to such a magnitude that one of us at least was feeling very satisfied indeed.  

On the other hand the list of things to be checked and tested and removed from lockers had diminished to the extent that we could take our leave, and be showered just in time, as it happened for the arrival of some not terribly retiring Kiwi mates in their appropriately named vessel; “Winedown”.

With their very capable assistance, that’s exactly what we did.


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