M. Coindeau, the Harbourmaster

Thursday, May 21, 2009

OK some of you asked for pix and this is the only one that appeals right now. Being in the water means no longer having to pee in a pot.

This is a weird day in between all the hustle of getting the boat launched yesterday, and leaving for London tomorrow for a week of yoga, then coming back to Marans, with my birthday sandwiched in between, along with a shopping list of forgotten/desired items not findable or affordable in France. Prices here can be a bit shocking. We have to buy a new battery for the boat when we get back - bigger than a car battery so I’m expecting 100 Euro or so. Food seems expensive - but maybe it’s just difficult to make the comparison.
Anyway - I’m not going to describe the boat launch - you can see it on YouTube. STOP PRESS EEK UPLOAD TAKING TO LONG, WILL HAVE TO DO THIS TOMORROW: I want to write about the harbourmaster.

The harbour master here is the appropriately named M. Coindeau. For me he symbolises the way France is. I know nothing about him, except that he is a ‘fonctionaire’ - a local government employee. He’s in his 30’s I suppose - although he could be younger. I imagine him being the latest in a long line of harbour masters. His job is mainly petty bureaucracy - form filling, done mostly by hand and with occasional reference to an ancient computer. He also checks the boats each day to make sure he has everyone listed, and that no-one has snuck out without paying. The commune owns a small crane and I think the high point of his work is probably that he gets to operate it now and again to launch smaller boats. He has a little harbourmaster car that claims now to be ‘electric’ - although it looks exactly as it did last year. Otherwise it’s the kind of small shabby generic white vehicle that you see everywhere in rural France (which is most of it). His office is housed in the same building as the toilet & shower block - looks like 1950’s concrete, although could be later. He’s laid back about being paid, and has put us on the list here for a permanent berth. I’m not sure if it will happen in our lifetimes.
In my fantasy of his life, M. Coindeau has a wife, a little ‘plan pied’ house about 20 minutes drive form his work. He has very civilised hours of 9 - 5 with Wednesday afternoons off, although he varies it a bit in the busy times in summer when there are several boats leaving and arriving with every daylight tide.
He has a wife in her late twenties and they have two children, and maybe one more planned or on the way. They have a small family car and they visit their respective in-laws at all prescribed holidays. I am not sure when he takes his vacances - summer is too busy but the French are quite hidebound about this. Maybe he & Mme C, and les petits fly off to Gambia or Martinique in the winter, although he shows no sign of a winter tan when I arrive in May. Although perfectly pleasant M. Coindeau is a man of few words, even given my linguistic limitations.
He and his wife and the kids shop in Super-U at the weekend, they rent DVDs and maybe he even gets on the Internet now and again, but not on a Mac. I like the idea of his wife being a teacher in one of the well-supported public schools - maybe she teaches 8 or 9 year olds. They use old-fashioned wall-charts, promote French nationalism in a European context, teach a bit of comparative religion and don’t have SATS tests. The kids speak good French and pronounce all their vowels. (French doesn’t really work otherwise. They look forward to jobs for life, and retiring on public service pensions - not generous, but adequate for their modest life style. (This is still my fantasy, you understand.)
I think what I am trying to conjure is the unchanging feel of France, in spite of ‘progress’ there is something about the stability of rural life that anchors the country to its roots and culture. The taxes are maybe higher than ours, and there are fewer new cars and flashy boats. There is less obvious wealth. Some complain that France is over-bureaucratic, too heavily taxed, too repressive of unfettered capitalism, but this is part of its charm. Maybe it’s the employment of M. Coindeau - and his offspring in perpetuity, for all I know, that give France its enduring quality. (You realise I don’t speak for the cities - Paris, Nantes, Marseille might as well be on another planet - although the white French seem to need to touch base with their own country every August, while the UK likes to take off on a long-haul to somewhere much more exotic.)

An aside on life here amongst the boat community in the winter: it seems there were big disputes last winter between those who get electricity thrown in with their mooring fees (modest) and those who pay for a separate supply. As more and more heaters were switched on, ovens used, kettles boiled… supplies were often pirated. You’ll be glad to know that a new hot water system has been installed in the shower (and washing up) block. The water comes out of the taps at scalding temperatures but the showers are surprisingly well behaved. The drains still smell a bit, but it’s become familiar and therefore quite comforting.
OK. Time to get busy on unloading the car, sorting out what’s where on the boat. Everything necessary - nothing unnecessary is the goal! I think I’ll start with a coffee…

M. Coindeau, the Harbourmaster

Thursday, May 21, 2009

OK some of you asked for pix and this is the only one that appeals right now. Being in the water means no longer having to pee in a pot.

This is a weird day in between all the hustle of getting the boat launched yesterday, and leaving for London tomorrow for a week of yoga, then coming back to Marans, with my birthday sandwiched in between, along with a shopping list of forgotten/desired items not findable or affordable in France. Prices here can be a bit shocking. We have to buy a new battery for the boat when we get back - bigger than a car battery so I’m expecting 100 Euro or so. Food seems expensive - but maybe it’s just difficult to make the comparison.
Anyway - I’m not going to describe the boat launch - you can see it on YouTube. STOP PRESS EEK UPLOAD TAKING TO LONG, WILL HAVE TO DO THIS TOMORROW: I want to write about the harbourmaster.

The harbour master here is the appropriately named M. Coindeau. For me he symbolises the way France is. I know nothing about him, except that he is a ‘fonctionaire’ - a local government employee. He’s in his 30’s I suppose - although he could be younger. I imagine him being the latest in a long line of harbour masters. His job is mainly petty bureaucracy - form filling, done mostly by hand and with occasional reference to an ancient computer. He also checks the boats each day to make sure he has everyone listed, and that no-one has snuck out without paying. The commune owns a small crane and I think the high point of his work is probably that he gets to operate it now and again to launch smaller boats. He has a little harbourmaster car that claims now to be ‘electric’ - although it looks exactly as it did last year. Otherwise it’s the kind of small shabby generic white vehicle that you see everywhere in rural France (which is most of it). His office is housed in the same building as the toilet & shower block - looks like 1950’s concrete, although could be later. He’s laid back about being paid, and has put us on the list here for a permanent berth. I’m not sure if it will happen in our lifetimes.
In my fantasy of his life, M. Coindeau has a wife, a little ‘plan pied’ house about 20 minutes drive form his work. He has very civilised hours of 9 - 5 with Wednesday afternoons off, although he varies it a bit in the busy times in summer when there are several boats leaving and arriving with every daylight tide.
He has a wife in her late twenties and they have two children, and maybe one more planned or on the way. They have a small family car and they visit their respective in-laws at all prescribed holidays. I am not sure when he takes his vacances - summer is too busy but the French are quite hidebound about this. Maybe he & Mme C, and les petits fly off to Gambia or Martinique in the winter, although he shows no sign of a winter tan when I arrive in May. Although perfectly pleasant M. Coindeau is a man of few words, even given my linguistic limitations.
He and his wife and the kids shop in Super-U at the weekend, they rent DVDs and maybe he even gets on the Internet now and again, but not on a Mac. I like the idea of his wife being a teacher in one of the well-supported public schools - maybe she teaches 8 or 9 year olds. They use old-fashioned wall-charts, promote French nationalism in a European context, teach a bit of comparative religion and don’t have SATS tests. The kids speak good French and pronounce all their vowels. (French doesn’t really work otherwise. They look forward to jobs for life, and retiring on public service pensions - not generous, but adequate for their modest life style. (This is still my fantasy, you understand.)
I think what I am trying to conjure is the unchanging feel of France, in spite of ‘progress’ there is something about the stability of rural life that anchors the country to its roots and culture. The taxes are maybe higher than ours, and there are fewer new cars and flashy boats. There is less obvious wealth. Some complain that France is over-bureaucratic, too heavily taxed, too repressive of unfettered capitalism, but this is part of its charm. Maybe it’s the employment of M. Coindeau - and his offspring in perpetuity, for all I know, that give France its enduring quality. (You realise I don’t speak for the cities - Paris, Nantes, Marseille might as well be on another planet - although the white French seem to need to touch base with their own country every August, while the UK likes to take off on a long-haul to somewhere much more exotic.)

An aside on life here amongst the boat community in the winter: it seems there were big disputes last winter between those who get electricity thrown in with their mooring fees (modest) and those who pay for a separate supply. As more and more heaters were switched on, ovens used, kettles boiled… supplies were often pirated. You’ll be glad to know that a new hot water system has been installed in the shower (and washing up) block. The water comes out of the taps at scalding temperatures but the showers are surprisingly well behaved. The drains still smell a bit, but it’s become familiar and therefore quite comforting.
OK. Time to get busy on unloading the car, sorting out what’s where on the boat. Everything necessary - nothing unnecessary is the goal! I think I’ll start with a coffee…

SLAPPING IT ON

Monday, May 18, 2009

MUCH better today - so sunny I began to re-evaluate my ideas about Greece… I think we need to make a serious plan. This will be our fifth summer with Snork Maiden and we have to be careful that we use her wisely! The provisional plan this year is to cruise the islands that we didn’t see enough of last year. It seems to be what we like best so far - anchored (or moored) somewhere quiet-ish, where we can take out the dinghy, go fishing, swimming, beachcombing, rent bikes and go exploring. We went to several of them on the way down in 2007 - Yeu, Belle Isle, Houat, Houdec, and a few others so far north we might as well go home! (More about this after we’ve had our planning meeting.) I’d like to do much more anchoring, so that we can start to feel secure about leaving SM at anchor. It also saves a few eurobob.

Today was all about anti-fouling and getting the boat sorted on the inside, after 2 days of chaos. Actually managed to make lunch yesterday too. Tonight stewed leeks and quinoa. Yum.

Café is officially closed - we have got to know the people a bit. So will finish here now. Coming soon: looking sixty in the face…

SLAPPING IT ON

Monday, May 18, 2009

MUCH better today - so sunny I began to re-evaluate my ideas about Greece… I think we need to make a serious plan. This will be our fifth summer with Snork Maiden and we have to be careful that we use her wisely! The provisional plan this year is to cruise the islands that we didn’t see enough of last year. It seems to be what we like best so far - anchored (or moored) somewhere quiet-ish, where we can take out the dinghy, go fishing, swimming, beachcombing, rent bikes and go exploring. We went to several of them on the way down in 2007 - Yeu, Belle Isle, Houat, Houdec, and a few others so far north we might as well go home! (More about this after we’ve had our planning meeting.) I’d like to do much more anchoring, so that we can start to feel secure about leaving SM at anchor. It also saves a few eurobob.

Today was all about anti-fouling and getting the boat sorted on the inside, after 2 days of chaos. Actually managed to make lunch yesterday too. Tonight stewed leeks and quinoa. Yum.

Café is officially closed - we have got to know the people a bit. So will finish here now. Coming soon: looking sixty in the face…

GETTING BETTER ALL THE TIME

Sunday, May 17, 2009

After a grim day yesterday - cold, rainy, frustrating and 2 hot water bottles in my sleeping bag at night - today was much better. I have been watching Bergman’s ‘Scenes from a Marriage’ and stopped at a low point on Friday night. Saturday night was almost a happy ending, at least by Bergman’s standards. As a production it’s beautifully sparse in terms of design - very different from contemporary film & television. Shot sizes are also used to maximum effect. The first time the camera leaves the wide is a jolt and the first real close-up is a real thrill.

The rain cleared by mid-morning, and I was able to get on with my work. Managed to join 2 hoses and get a water supply on the boat. Cleaned the deck, cockpit and hull - now ready for anti-fouling. Forecast promises sunshine tomorrow. The rust line between keel and was in pretty good shape after wire brushing and metal paint last year. Not sure what happened to last year’s pots, so have used Hammerite to patch up the spots of rust that have come through. (As you know, Hammerite can be painted over rust.)

I was so happy that I made lunch, and at the end of the day, went to have a shower. Earlier in the day I had rolled up my work jeans to just below the knee to accommodate my wellies. (The yard is wet with rain, and with pools of water from the hose that can’t be turned off.) Now, here’s the problem: my calves are not thin. They aren’t even normal. They look like they belong to a football player - or a ballet dancer, if I’m being nice to myself. I don’t think it’s possible to lose weight from the calves - unless approaching serious starvation, and even then… So my first attempts were futile. I kept thinking ‘what goes up must come down kind of thoughts, but that didn’t help. I tried turning them inside out and tugging them floorwards that way. No good. Now I am feeling ridiculous and starting to panic. What to do? Maybe I have nail scissors and can cut myself free. No, I don’t. Only way out is to get them back again the right way, and slowly and painstakingly unrolling the turn-ups and finally persuading first one side and then the other over the unyielding muscle. Yikes! Could they have grown to the size of watermelons in one afternoon?

“Hi Eric, did you forget to pack your calves?” This was one of the shark boys on the wild coast greeting the very skinny aeroplane pilot. I’d have changed place with Eric like a shot. Then I could have tucked the jeans into my wellies and none of this would have happened.

Almost out of time and battery. (If there were but time enough and battery enough…) Going to get the hottie ready and crawl into my bed with a good (or probably not so good) book. (Thanks for the Laura Lipmann, Sal. Got me through last night. A bit American for my taste, but I liked seeing Gloria turning up in a different context.)

Bon nuit et beaucoup des reves belles. Pretty sky & birdy evening.

GETTING BETTER ALL THE TIME

Sunday, May 17, 2009

After a grim day yesterday - cold, rainy, frustrating and 2 hot water bottles in my sleeping bag at night - today was much better. I have been watching Bergman’s ‘Scenes from a Marriage’ and stopped at a low point on Friday night. Saturday night was almost a happy ending, at least by Bergman’s standards. As a production it’s beautifully sparse in terms of design - very different from contemporary film & television. Shot sizes are also used to maximum effect. The first time the camera leaves the wide is a jolt and the first real close-up is a real thrill.

The rain cleared by mid-morning, and I was able to get on with my work. Managed to join 2 hoses and get a water supply on the boat. Cleaned the deck, cockpit and hull - now ready for anti-fouling. Forecast promises sunshine tomorrow. The rust line between keel and was in pretty good shape after wire brushing and metal paint last year. Not sure what happened to last year’s pots, so have used Hammerite to patch up the spots of rust that have come through. (As you know, Hammerite can be painted over rust.)

I was so happy that I made lunch, and at the end of the day, went to have a shower. Earlier in the day I had rolled up my work jeans to just below the knee to accommodate my wellies. (The yard is wet with rain, and with pools of water from the hose that can’t be turned off.) Now, here’s the problem: my calves are not thin. They aren’t even normal. They look like they belong to a football player - or a ballet dancer, if I’m being nice to myself. I don’t think it’s possible to lose weight from the calves - unless approaching serious starvation, and even then… So my first attempts were futile. I kept thinking ‘what goes up must come down kind of thoughts, but that didn’t help. I tried turning them inside out and tugging them floorwards that way. No good. Now I am feeling ridiculous and starting to panic. What to do? Maybe I have nail scissors and can cut myself free. No, I don’t. Only way out is to get them back again the right way, and slowly and painstakingly unrolling the turn-ups and finally persuading first one side and then the other over the unyielding muscle. Yikes! Could they have grown to the size of watermelons in one afternoon?

“Hi Eric, did you forget to pack your calves?” This was one of the shark boys on the wild coast greeting the very skinny aeroplane pilot. I’d have changed place with Eric like a shot. Then I could have tucked the jeans into my wellies and none of this would have happened.

Almost out of time and battery. (If there were but time enough and battery enough…) Going to get the hottie ready and crawl into my bed with a good (or probably not so good) book. (Thanks for the Laura Lipmann, Sal. Got me through last night. A bit American for my taste, but I liked seeing Gloria turning up in a different context.)

Bon nuit et beaucoup des reves belles. Pretty sky & birdy evening.

SNORK 2009 Picasa

Sorry - slow going this year - both the poor little overloaded powerbook, creaking under the weight of 2000+ pix and a pile of shash on the desktop. Will try to do better. Meanwhile there are a few pix on
http://picasaweb.google.com/wikidrat/SNORKMAIDEN2009?feat=directlink
Chitra - thanks for reminding me that the pictures are important!
You can subscribe to RSS to check for updates - go on, you know you want to...

SNORK 2009 Picasa

Sorry - slow going this year - both the poor little overloaded powerbook, creaking under the weight of 2000+ pix and a pile of shash on the desktop. Will try to do better. Meanwhile there are a few pix on
http://picasaweb.google.com/wikidrat/SNORKMAIDEN2009?feat=directlink
Chitra - thanks for reminding me that the pictures are important!
You can subscribe to RSS to check for updates - go on, you know you want to...

LA ROCHELLE

Friday, May 15, 2009

STILL NO PIX

Went to La Rochelle to book rail tickets to get back to London by TGV. They charge a whacking 250 Euros, so have settled for RyanAir to Stansted at around 85 Euros. This is mad! I am disappointed but I just can’t justify the cost against our dwindling Euro budget. And so, children, the planet Gaia was destroyed.

Then a tour of the chandleries to replace flares. The old flares are fine, but past the sell-by. And if you need them (and they are called distress flares) you do need them to work. There was a bad story about a chap who blew a hole in himself - be sure to point them the right way!

Followed by an afternoon at the Internet coalface - how can it take hours to book a flight? Gave up on National Express after being ejected from the card security system. Closely followed by a call from Egg telling me that I hadn’t got through their security. They have been nice enough to let me back into the system, but I’m going to buy my bus ticket at the airport - can’t go through all that again - at least not today.

It’s been too windy to work on the boat much today, anyway. Now I have done all the La Rochelle biz I can get to it tomorrow. Time’s a passing! Showers forecast for the next couple of days so will try to slap on the anti-fouling between them. Heavy showers at night, and the jolly halyards slap around inside the mast. (If you’d like to experience this noise for yourselves, you could try whacking a tightly wound wet towel on a radiator.)

Last bit of biz in La R is to discover why SFR mobile ain’t working. Something about needing a new SIM. Off to Place Verdun.

TTFN

LA ROCHELLE

Friday, May 15, 2009

STILL NO PIX

Went to La Rochelle to book rail tickets to get back to London by TGV. They charge a whacking 250 Euros, so have settled for RyanAir to Stansted at around 85 Euros. This is mad! I am disappointed but I just can’t justify the cost against our dwindling Euro budget. And so, children, the planet Gaia was destroyed.

Then a tour of the chandleries to replace flares. The old flares are fine, but past the sell-by. And if you need them (and they are called distress flares) you do need them to work. There was a bad story about a chap who blew a hole in himself - be sure to point them the right way!

Followed by an afternoon at the Internet coalface - how can it take hours to book a flight? Gave up on National Express after being ejected from the card security system. Closely followed by a call from Egg telling me that I hadn’t got through their security. They have been nice enough to let me back into the system, but I’m going to buy my bus ticket at the airport - can’t go through all that again - at least not today.

It’s been too windy to work on the boat much today, anyway. Now I have done all the La Rochelle biz I can get to it tomorrow. Time’s a passing! Showers forecast for the next couple of days so will try to slap on the anti-fouling between them. Heavy showers at night, and the jolly halyards slap around inside the mast. (If you’d like to experience this noise for yourselves, you could try whacking a tightly wound wet towel on a radiator.)

Last bit of biz in La R is to discover why SFR mobile ain’t working. Something about needing a new SIM. Off to Place Verdun.

TTFN

GETTING THERE

(B)log Thursday, May 14, 2009

SORRY NO PIX - HAVING PROBLEMS WITH UPLOAD

Well, here we are again - the Snork Maiden and me. It always takes a day to adjust to life aboard, especially when she’s out of the water. (I will put some yard pix on Picasa tomorrow.) The horses and frogs don’t seem to be here, but there’s lots of birdsong morning and evening.

Just to back up, I came over on the ferry Tuesday night. Usually the boat (from Plymouth to Roscoff) is an elderly vessel, the Pont Aven. She’s a bit lived in, and the cheap cabins were situated somewhere below the car decks, next to the engines. The deep throb used to send me to sleep - just as well, since the partitions between cabins were not up to the ceiling, and there was no barrier to noisy sleepers, kids, or party animals. The bathrooms were communal, but you were never far away from an exit route! (Think Poseidon.)

The new ferry - the Armorique, named for Brittany’s Cote d’Armor (not ‘amour’) is the exact opposite. She’s much more a floating hotel. Because I had changed my sailing just a couple of days before leaving, I had to book into ‘club class’ with a 4-person cabin to myself. A porthole comes with it, but not much to see on a night crossing, once the Plymouth outer breakwater slides past. As some of you know, I have strongly developed survival instincts and I always check out the escape routes. These are fewer on the Armorique. There are 3 ‘muster stations’ that you should head for. These give onto exits that have to be opened by the crew, and they are all in open areas, like the bars. I prefer the outside route that leads directly to the lifeboats, and it took me about 20 minutes to work it out, including counting the number of doors and flights of stairs I had to negotiate. Probably fewer than half a dozen passangers would do that, and nothing on the boat encourages them to do so. The back-of-cabin-door instructions were fairly impenetrable and as it was there were many bemused middle-aged-and-more couples looking for their cabins, or the bar, or the stairs back to their car. (On the old Pont Aven there were nice crew on the car decks, handing out little bits of paper with the car’s location handwritten on them. On the plus side, the buffet looked OK and the cabin, en suite de rigeur, was very good, with comfy bed and decent shower. (My tip for a sound sleep is pinch a second duvet from another bunk, and lie on that. Just like a feather bed.

I suppose you want to get to France now. OK. Grey day in Brittany. There are 2 problems immediately after disembarking - finding the quickest route to Morlaix (there seem to be several) and finding somewhere to go to the loo. (Digestive system still on UK time; France 1 hour ahead. I know that they both sound simple, but believe me…
You’ll be glad to know that I solved at least the second of these, thanks to M. Le Clerc. But I was so desperate that I almost forgot the pleasantries…. “Bonjour Madam, les toilettes, s’il vous plait.” “Aaargh - montez moi les bogs MAINTENANT.”
It took me most of the day to get to Marans, with more stops than usual to walk about a bit for my back. I had a couple of naps too, arriving here after 5. Dominic, the yard patron, was there when I arrived but he managed to slip off home before I could extract a long electricity cable from his messy and disorganised system. (There’s an Aussie guy here who describes Dominic as ‘slack’ and I guess that covers it.)
The good news - I DO have electricity now, although the cable is pretty open to the weather and I’ll be lucky if it survives the heavy showers we’re getting tonight. And the lift back into the water is booked for Wednesday.

Tomorrow I think I will take the outboard motor to La Rochelle to be serviced. Then I’ll get on with preparing the hull for anti-fouling in the afternoon. Hope the OK weather holds - it has been T-shirt warm in the day and pretty cosy at night in my sleeping bag.

I bought a merino wool long-sleeved top before leaving, and it’s fantastic. Warm, not scratchy, non-stinky. And before you point out that this is my year of not buying clothes, this is a piece of technical equipment!

Time to get my bunk clear and into sleeping mode. Although I have an electric light, there’s just one, and it’s easiest to finish up in daylight (dark around 10pm).

Night all, wherever you are.

GETTING THERE

(B)log Thursday, May 14, 2009

SORRY NO PIX - HAVING PROBLEMS WITH UPLOAD

Well, here we are again - the Snork Maiden and me. It always takes a day to adjust to life aboard, especially when she’s out of the water. (I will put some yard pix on Picasa tomorrow.) The horses and frogs don’t seem to be here, but there’s lots of birdsong morning and evening.

Just to back up, I came over on the ferry Tuesday night. Usually the boat (from Plymouth to Roscoff) is an elderly vessel, the Pont Aven. She’s a bit lived in, and the cheap cabins were situated somewhere below the car decks, next to the engines. The deep throb used to send me to sleep - just as well, since the partitions between cabins were not up to the ceiling, and there was no barrier to noisy sleepers, kids, or party animals. The bathrooms were communal, but you were never far away from an exit route! (Think Poseidon.)

The new ferry - the Armorique, named for Brittany’s Cote d’Armor (not ‘amour’) is the exact opposite. She’s much more a floating hotel. Because I had changed my sailing just a couple of days before leaving, I had to book into ‘club class’ with a 4-person cabin to myself. A porthole comes with it, but not much to see on a night crossing, once the Plymouth outer breakwater slides past. As some of you know, I have strongly developed survival instincts and I always check out the escape routes. These are fewer on the Armorique. There are 3 ‘muster stations’ that you should head for. These give onto exits that have to be opened by the crew, and they are all in open areas, like the bars. I prefer the outside route that leads directly to the lifeboats, and it took me about 20 minutes to work it out, including counting the number of doors and flights of stairs I had to negotiate. Probably fewer than half a dozen passangers would do that, and nothing on the boat encourages them to do so. The back-of-cabin-door instructions were fairly impenetrable and as it was there were many bemused middle-aged-and-more couples looking for their cabins, or the bar, or the stairs back to their car. (On the old Pont Aven there were nice crew on the car decks, handing out little bits of paper with the car’s location handwritten on them. On the plus side, the buffet looked OK and the cabin, en suite de rigeur, was very good, with comfy bed and decent shower. (My tip for a sound sleep is pinch a second duvet from another bunk, and lie on that. Just like a feather bed.

I suppose you want to get to France now. OK. Grey day in Brittany. There are 2 problems immediately after disembarking - finding the quickest route to Morlaix (there seem to be several) and finding somewhere to go to the loo. (Digestive system still on UK time; France 1 hour ahead. I know that they both sound simple, but believe me…
You’ll be glad to know that I solved at least the second of these, thanks to M. Le Clerc. But I was so desperate that I almost forgot the pleasantries…. “Bonjour Madam, les toilettes, s’il vous plait.” “Aaargh - montez moi les bogs MAINTENANT.”
It took me most of the day to get to Marans, with more stops than usual to walk about a bit for my back. I had a couple of naps too, arriving here after 5. Dominic, the yard patron, was there when I arrived but he managed to slip off home before I could extract a long electricity cable from his messy and disorganised system. (There’s an Aussie guy here who describes Dominic as ‘slack’ and I guess that covers it.)
The good news - I DO have electricity now, although the cable is pretty open to the weather and I’ll be lucky if it survives the heavy showers we’re getting tonight. And the lift back into the water is booked for Wednesday.

Tomorrow I think I will take the outboard motor to La Rochelle to be serviced. Then I’ll get on with preparing the hull for anti-fouling in the afternoon. Hope the OK weather holds - it has been T-shirt warm in the day and pretty cosy at night in my sleeping bag.

I bought a merino wool long-sleeved top before leaving, and it’s fantastic. Warm, not scratchy, non-stinky. And before you point out that this is my year of not buying clothes, this is a piece of technical equipment!

Time to get my bunk clear and into sleeping mode. Although I have an electric light, there’s just one, and it’s easiest to finish up in daylight (dark around 10pm).

Night all, wherever you are.

Oh no!

Help! I have been struck down with a disobedient back. No obvious cause apart from the usual suspect - stress. But why? And why now? So today is the 11th and I am not sure whether or not to take the ferry tonight. Yesterday evening I thought I was practically OK, then this morning couldn't hardly get out of bed without crying.

"Will all drivers rejoin their vehicles on the car-deck..." I will have to be carried down there... Checking out Brittany ferries to see whether I can get a cabin tomorrow night - website says not. Maybe on compassionate grounds, har har...

Back to re-rigging my travel arrangements.

Virtual massages accepted!

Oh no!

Help! I have been struck down with a disobedient back. No obvious cause apart from the usual suspect - stress. But why? And why now? So today is the 11th and I am not sure whether or not to take the ferry tonight. Yesterday evening I thought I was practically OK, then this morning couldn't hardly get out of bed without crying.

"Will all drivers rejoin their vehicles on the car-deck..." I will have to be carried down there... Checking out Brittany ferries to see whether I can get a cabin tomorrow night - website says not. Maybe on compassionate grounds, har har...

Back to re-rigging my travel arrangements.

Virtual massages accepted!