When one is in a port, the on-water community is large enough so that there is always someone else to help when the cleaning needs doing. It’s funny how it’s far easier to help other people with their jobs that to actually get going on one’s own. Therefore time spent inverted in Graeme’s engine bay twiddling was far more rewarding that simply tidying up at home. Georges must have had a similar problem aboard Black Magic because he quickly volunteered a few diesel drums and a vehicle as well as his services as a driver to make easy work of topping up our tanks, a task that would have taken eight or ten kilometres of to-ing and fro-ing with the hand trolley to the service station a kilometre away.
Then, because we’d not really done anything during the day to make us tired, we spent a perfect evening aboard with Graeme regaling us with stories of his life in the Met, that is the police force, not the weather office all the while providing a running commentary on the river search happening before our very eyes, complete with helicopter, search lights, divers and flashing blue lights. If the night swimmer was found, one can but wonder at the bill he will get.
On the weather front, the rain was supposed to come today, but it was put off till tomorrow, and that is exactly what we decided to do with the majority of our remaining tasks.