The Circus Comes to Town

We have to move to an outer floating dock.

"There's a current swirls in here," says one of the many bystanders, unnecessarily. (Where did all these people magically appear from? The wharf was deserted only seconds ago.) We are like doomed gladiators in this tiny arena, as current and wind slam us along the bows of the fishing boats. But J thrilled yet again with his aluminum rubbing strake. That and the battering ram he calls an anchor, have saved his boat again.

"That's this afternoon's entertainment," says I, bowing from the foredeck, and acting as human fender.

But we got there, J ferrygliding brilliantly up to our new berth. I don't have to scramble up a wall and a giant tyre here, and we're slightly away from the shrimp plant - though we're side on to the open sea, it's a small gain.