Calm before

Despite the lack of wind, I fancied a bit of boat fun. And on the mooring the wind sprang up, so off I went at a very slow pace, drifting through the boats in the harbour. Having exited the harbour mouth, I went to switch the engine off. Gagh. It kept running. Fekk. Back to the pontoon, and who leapt aboard while I was still tying up but Denis. And we swiftly had it sussed. A similar thing happened on the old boat but that had an electric solenoid not just a cable, y’see.
Then a cycle about paying in boatie cash with MrB before getting back to the boat for a fiddle, and of course more visitors.
Some folks are spooked by tales of upcoming gales and are tying down anything liable to flap; indeed, I find the Commodore moving his boat to the lee of the gunpowder block. There’s a shameful vote of no confidence in the club tackle. Perhaps he doesn’t keep his as well maintained as he ought to.