The really nice thing about this time of year is that people are descending on ports getting ready for the end of their seasons. Most are moaning about how bad May and June were with the constant floods and we remind all about how lucky we were to have missed them, but are all almost desperate to have our three-yearly catch up and swap news.
If ever there was a penalty to pay for delaying tidying up until the last day, today would have been the day. Such however is the organisational skill of one of us, or perhaps it’s just her ability not to get distracted by things like conversation with newly arrived friends, that everything seemed to be finished by lunch time. Well the jobs designated “pink” were anyway, the ones designated “blue” were bundled in a neat pile and stowed somewhere in the bilge until they become more urgent.
Graeme offered to cook tonight, providing we didn’t mind eating coq au vin from a can, so once again we forced ourselves to sit chatting with he and Nev and Viv until well past our bedtime. Admittedly given that we had to be up by midday at least to get to the station to pick up Les, a gentle retreat was sounded well before our coach turned into a pumpkin.