Boyardville Beach Bums

A bedtime blog, short since late and we're sailing tomorrow for - the fun of it really.

Saturday was the perfect summer day in Boyardville - favourite port on the much underestimated Ile d'Oleron. It has a scary channel entrance but we're used to that now.

Saturday was so hot that all I managed to do was a trip to the market to buy oysters, mussels and white wine in the morning (lunch and supper), lie around on the boat for most of the afternoon, under the awning, dozing and reading, and then struggle into my wet suit for a late afternoon swim. The water felt so cold when I got in that Al had to hang on to me to stop me running out again. I did manage to enjoy it after a while. The beach was still balmy at 7 or so - a real Mediterranean feel.

Sunday morning all the visiting boats had to leave to make way for the 'Voyage of Hope' - a flotilla of boats sailing with kids who have cancer. The coastal French seem to believe that every kid should learn the basics of sailing... there are little chains of Optimist dinghies being towed out by mother ribs in just about every harbour.

Not much wind so motored back to La Rochelle where we have been riding bikes and doing admin & maintenance - lots of business with the bank, weather forecasts, post office, tools, oil change, and demanding refunds. The French seem to take those in their stride. They seem to expect that mistakes will be made, and mostly don't mind putting them right however many people there are waiting to be served (queue jumping in France is looked on very poorly). The nice ladies in Monoprix were very laid back about having charged me for one bra too many - the sales assistant even remembered that I had been hovering over a third one, that she then absent-mindedly rang up on the till. They are so nice you want to have a cup of tea with them and ask them about their families, problems and summer hols.

I just heard a tiny trickle and had to get out of bed and pump the toilet. That doesn't sound like much, I know, but an overflow can sink the boat, or at least result in embarrassing damp dreams when the water starts sloshing round the floor boards. Intimate friends of Snork Maiden will remember the red knob... You'll be glad to know that it's nothing worse than sea water. I do have another story about sea toilets, or the lack of them, but I'll spare you for now,

Night night shipmates. Sweet dreams.