Sunday 25 June - at sea

Left St P in the rain, fog and a soupcon of wind.

“Il pleut sur les toits/Comme il pleure dans mon coeur”. Tears of joy, I think. Look it up - Lamartine, Sartre, Johnny Holliday quelquechose comme ca.

So, it’s not “au ‘voir”, more “adieu”, St Pierre.

Today has been frankly rather boring, motoring through this interminable fog, trying out sails when J imagines there to be enough wind. I know what’s going to happen on my watch from 6 – 10 pm. He will have left the main up and the wind will rise, and the autohelm will squeal like a piglet – and I shall have to fucking handsteer in the cold....