A big thank you to all my readers.
Rosie tells me they're rioting in Paris.
This should help France's economic problems no end, and it's certainly
something we need to know mid-Atlantic - the Skipper will sort it as soon
as he's back on watch. Anne (Hatts) tells me I'm getting my apostrophes
wrong - my son Will's a (Sub-)Editor; he'll die of shame. Michael
(C2) laughs ironically because he says he's lost more spinnakers than I've
had hot dinners (true: and although the last was only in Weymouth Bay, he's been
Out Here Too, and that in the Dark Days of the Sextant and the Rapid (what
a con - it takes for ever) Sight Reduction Tables when yachts were made of
wood and men were made of iron). Mark the Auch sends recipes for
hangovers - well cheers, chance would be a fine thing. Amanda accuses me
of ruining her business (how? I'm stuck out here in the middle of the
South Atlantic with a piece of string and two cans for communication. I
can't ring my broker (even if I had one) and move squillions around the Market
in order to drive down the price of air-dried oak-cured bacon and mature
cheddar. Give us a break, dahlin'). Richard lashes me repeatedly for
the tiny little Rioja mistake - Dr Val's a lot kinder, but it amounts to the
same thing. Peter and Sasha (no relation; don't worry Anne (Shoes - I
haven't forgotten) and Nigel (no relation; don't worry Peter and Sasha)) are
both complimentary about the tuna, which I did not catch, but on behalf of those
who did, thank you both anyway. Michael (C3 & Turner) defeats me
entirely with "Sciacquapalle" and says since he's a lawyer he can't provide me
with a translation without charging me at £xxx per six minutes. And Robert
says he won't pass on a simple message to our mutual pal Gordy, and sends me a
Very Rude Message about the perils of water as well - but Robert's only
been to Tonga what has lots of Airports. Only Malcy, Lindsey, JB, Ian and
Sam aboard Quasar V did the decent thing - they ripped their spinnaker from
edge to edge in sympathy and in the middle of the night too, damaging various
pieces of kit on JB's head as they did so. Thanks guys. At moments
like this, I flood up - it's when you find out who your real pals are.
But sincerely for a moment (are you kidding? -
Ed), I would like to thank all of you for actually reading what I write,
and for sending me your comments and corrections. I enjoy hearing from you
immensely. For better or worse, they remind me of my many friends and
the other life out there, temporarily abandoned.
Aboard Cleone tension mounts; are we going to make
it in time for the Party on Sunday? Well, don't put your pounds on it, and
anyway, even if you've got any left they're worth nowt now (ta, Gordy).
But we are enjoying some cracking sailing, and the crew are adept at gybing,
even during the darkest hours of the night. The fresh meat may be long
gone, and the Great Tuna merely a distant memory. But the cooks'
imagination is boundless, and we are still enjoying tasty meals. We've had
another 25 hour day, which has inevitably taken its toll. Last night we
broke out the gin again - it was Jenni and Shayne's 14th Anniversary. So
morale is up, and we are all looking forward to the good things on land, where
no doubt we will soon be yearning for the open seas and the clear night skies
once more.
Meanwhile, all is well with us, and very best
wishes to all of you.
James, Graham, Jenni, Shayne and Mandy
Yacht Cleone
14o05'S 32o51'W