Mike is awake early and moving around obviously wanting to get a head start on the day. I wake up too but drift off for another hour before he starts making too much noise for me to ignore so I drag myself out of bed. He wants to be at the boatyard by 8am so that there can be no excuses from Herve that we weren’t there for the radio testing when he arrived.
We pack up, check out (I don’t want to see the bill!) and leave. Unfortunately the owners, Nancy and Gerry are not around so we can’t say goodbye.
When we arrive at the boatyard, it is like a graveyard again. This is one of the reasons they probably wanted us in the water yesterday – they were more than likely worried that half the yard guys wouldn’t turn up for work, it being Christmas Eve.
Mike switches the watermaker on and it fails to start. The motor turns but no water is produced. There can be a couple of reasons for this. It could just be just an airlock or the guys could have failed to remove the masking tape from the inlet pipe when they were doing the anti fouling. Mike hopes it’s the former otherwise he will have to get his diving gear out and go underneath! We strip the cabin, bed and all and down he goes into his glory hole emerging somewhat grubby and sweaty to announce it is an airlock and is now fixed.
Herve arrives on time and tests the radio system. It seems to be working but with no one to talk to, who can tell.
Mike goes out to buy some last minute provisions and return the speakers to Island Water World as they are too big. He swops it for the blue paint we need to finish the stripes, only realising when he gets back that he has bought Dark Blue instead of Deep Blue. At least his supermarket shopping is more successful as he has managed to find champagne, orange juice, eggs, bacon and chocolate. Alas, no smoked salmon.
I manage to talk to Victoria on Skype - not seeing her at Christmas is very hard. I miss you sweetheart.
We have some of our local meat pie for lunch then start trying to clean up the boat. I want to scrub the cockpit and decks as they are filthy with three weeks’ worth of dust and dirty workman’ feet. They always take their shoes off before coming aboard but I think their feet are far worse than their shoes! Unfortunately the water from the dock hose comes out at a trickle and we are unable to power wash. I scrub with the broom but just get the top layer off. It’s exhausting but it looks better than it did.
Mike wants us to get off the dock so we slip the lines and we’re off. This is the first time I’ve moved across the water for three months and I discover I’ve lost my sea legs as I wobble around the boat constantly losing my balance. The anchor is a bit of a pig to settle but it does eventually, although the boat continues to rock and roll as some southerly swells come in. Thank God I’m on a catamaran and not a monohull!
We try to get some semblance of order to the inside of the boat. What this actually involves is us moving everything from the salon into one of the empty cabins until we can decide what to do with it. Just putting it off for another day but at least it looks presentable for now. We shut the boat up, put the air conditioning on and spray the inside of the boat liberally with Bop to kill any mosquitoes lurking inside. I’ve got enough bites to last me quite a while thank you. We run outside before the fumes get to us and watch the boats rock and roll
I go for a shower but when I have finished, no matter how hard I press the pump button, the shower empties a drip at a time. Now what? Have they taped over the outlet pipe? Mike answers my shouting and comes to investigate, pulling up the boards in our cabin to inspect the valves and pumps. The pump filter is totally clogged. He takes it out and hands it to me to clean. It is totally disgusting, only made marginally better by the fact that whatever has clogged it has come from us (well Mike actually) as we are the only ones who use that bathroom. I clean it out pulling faces all the time. I did feel clean but by the time I have finished I feel I need a shower again.
By 7.30 and after a glass of wine (a dark and stormy for Mike) we are feeling a bit more human – exhausted humans, but human none the less. Neither of us are hungry so we eat crisps and chocolate and watch Gavin and Stacy. What a strange Christmas Eve.
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