Sunday 27 August

R & S, a few boats down, went out for the first time ever in their new-to-them sailboat. They've never sailed before and this was to be a short motor out, down a bit, and then back. Coming back into their slip, the gusty wind caught the stern, swinging it towards their neighbour's boat. Being the nice guys they are, S already having jumped ashore with spring in hand, R decided not to bash the other boat, and backed out again, taking not S, but the spring with him. And it got round the prop, as it does. This time, the wind, really picking up, was sweeping R and boat down on to not one, but two sterns. Club boat + boatman + J intervened and with S and me on the pontoon, we all pushed and pulled till everything and everyone was safe and sound.

(S came round a day or so later with a big bag of beautiful books - such timing - just finished my last one (Bernie Howgate's Journey Round Labrador) and already had my hand poised over J's sleeping form to steal his ...)

J is now headfirst down the coffin berth (arrghh) trying to fix the Autohelm, and is doing one of his favourite things, turning into an oily rag. I'm reading in the cockpit, in the sun, passing him tools on request and avoiding the grease on the worm drive (the steering system). Hard life being crew.

In the afternoon, with J recovering horizontally from his horrible arduous claustrophobic confinement, I take myself off to the Commodore's Picnic for a couple of vodka and oranges...

Here I met, and of course, talked to, some people from the Dartmouth YC (across the bay), giving publicity to the same N Atlantic Merchant Navy Convoy Association I had met at the Royal Newfoundland YC in July. This seems to be a commemoration that is taking off pretty widely on this side of the Atlantic, and in Norway (where it was founded). There is a racing programme on both sides on alternate years, so the future, as well as the past, is promoted. And a jolly good thing, too.