With the precision of a Swiss watch, our little boat became airborne at exactly the appointed time. The team at Buitenbeentje move like a well oiled machine, but I am not sure if any boat owner can watch a crane lift their pride and joy without developing a thickening somewhere between throat and pit of stomach.
Touchdown was as gentle as the lift had been but that lump remained as we woke Mr Perkins from his hibernation. To make matters ever so much more nerve wracking we’d shouted him new injector nozzles and water pump while he was asleep and some other bits were replaced too, all untested, so while he (eventually) burst into life, only time will tell whether all is well and we can sail off into the sunset or whether old habits will prevail and we find ourselves on the old reliability roller coaster once again.
Suddenly a line has been drawn between our motoring adventures of the past week and tomorrow. We are afloat, cruising again, even if we moved barely two hundred metres to our temporary mooring at the yacht club. Here, in cruising mode we shall stay until the urge to move again o’ertakes us.
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