In the cold hard light of dawn, the grey sky promised change. At least that’s what we imagine it would have promised had we been up to see it, but somewhat later when we did peer out, the wind had disappeared, the blue sky replaced by a slightly cooler grey and the pollen was being laid gently to rest under a blanket of the lightest rain we’ve seen since the last time we’ve seen very light rain.
It looked like a perfect day to get underway in fact, so we disconnected our shore power, and generally began to make things ship-shape. At precisely the moment we were thinking about maybe possibly casting off, we received a message from Jacob, Mr Perkins’ Witch Doctor, suggesting that if we’d like to stay put for a day he could come to check on how the dear old thing was reacting to his winter medications.
This had the happily deflating effect of requiring us to cancel all previous engagements and sending us back to bed for the day, metaphorically speaking at least. I am sure that were we living in a cell of the same size, a day spent locked inside would send us nuts. On a boat though, there are always things to pull apart, pumps to fix, charts to pore over, books to read and not to mention snoozes to be had. With our brains engaged firmly in “we’re moving on” mode, at no time during the day did it occur to either of us that we might go ashore. Thus, with the benefit of hindsight, today’s photo will be taken tomorrow.
4 comments
Start as you mean to go...that’s always the best way.
Sounds like a perfect recipe for life!
Fond memories of the many visits over three seasons and two winters that Catharina Elisabeth spent there. Nice to see you taking advantage of this comfortable town and relaxed mooring.
@Ian - we seem to be studiously following in your footsteps of late - apparently being wherever you are not! :-)
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