Night fell after we caught sight of the Isle of Wight … and it got very cold. The moon was bright and right behind us so we had a gleaming wake and could see to move around the ship. And we could see the shining whiteness of the Needles.
We put on every stitch of clothing and took in a fair bit of Glenmorangie. Mark was getting excited about his followers on Twitter. Got him to show me how. Think I will need more lessons. Seems I have no friends.
Into the Solent. Lights everywhere. Midnight. One O'Clock. Still going. Hugh goes to bed. Just too cold. I hang on till we come into Cowes I think after 1.30. Tie up next to the Royal Yacht Squadron who have offered their help.
As soon as we are tied up I go below and squeeze into the bunk above HJ. I keep almost all my clothes on in my sleeping bag. Sleep immediately, face about a foot below the deck beams. Sleep well. The whisky I guess.
To get on deck in the morning have to pass through other cabins and 'heads' (the normal passage being blocked by all the wine). Inert bodies everywhere. But the sun is bright and the scene stunning as boats of all shapes sizes colours etc beaver about. Lots of empty beer cans may indicate why no-one else except Hugh, Mark and I are up.
Mark - who after several days looks v. piratical - goes off for a shower and a shave. Hugh and I find the town Greasy Spoon for a Full English and then go back to meet the lady from the radio and Chris from Meridian News. Did you see us?
Hugh and Red's friends at the RYS arrive in their launch - we pass over a couple of cases and they invite us for lunch which is quite a contrast with the greasy spoon, what with all the silverware and paintings on the wall. (I have to quickly buy some decent clothes).
Afterwards H and I head home, leaving the Irene to make her way onwards to Tower Bridge. So far, so very good. But I'm not uncrossing my fingers just yet. Thanks, though, for the most wonderful day’s sail of my life.
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