Chores and Sorting

Beez Neez
Skipper and First Mate Millard (Big Bear and Pepe)
Wed 3 Jul 2013 22:57
Chores and Sorting Out Time as Weather Holds Us Firmly Here
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We left Akamaru after breakfast on the 29th of June, all of four miles to anchor in virtually the same spot off Rikitea, Mangareva Island. Straight in for French sticks, we did miss them but our waistlines certainly didn’t. Bear jumped out of Baby Beez to nip to the baker, his NBF (New Best Friend) and I sat gazing at the rocks wishing to see crabs, I am having a hard time with so few birds and not a single chap – well low and behold I saw one. They are exactly the same shape as Sally light-foots but they have bluey-purple boxing gloves. On his return the skipper was thrilled for me and we spuddled up and down the little bakers wharf searching for more, oh boy, can they jump and disappear in a split second, not like their cousins on the Galapagos who are happy to pose. Probably wary here about finding their way into a local paella. Oh no. We went on a rubbish run and we saw another chap who was happier to pose, but not for too long. Days total – four.
As were about to set off from the quay next to the bins, we met Lisa (New Yorker) and Mario (Italian) off their British registered yacht – Amandala. They told us we had missed the drumming the night before that had gone on until four a.m.. The drumming was not too bad but the shrill screeching (apparently the accompaniment) was awful. No sooner than silence, the cockerels began and that woke the dogs. Mmm, a good miss then.
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We cannot leave here for a while as there is a terrific low between here and the Australs indicating winds around forty knots and that means lumpy seas, so staying put is the right thing for the time being. What to do – I know chores. Bear said he had been meaning to permanently wire in our TV used for film watching. Oooops, mucho bad language as his box of electrical connectors hit the floor. Newton struck again is the only quote I can use from the incident. Well not to be bested I went in search of cupboards to empty and give them a rummage.
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Within seconds the lounge looked like a flea market stall. I always get fed up at this stage but once the bin begins to overflow I get a cathartic feeling and that spurs me on. Just as well it only happens every three months or so or I would have nothing on board but the shirt on my back. Mmmmm don’t tempt me, I have always promised to stay out of the tool shed and I have kept to that promise. Speaking of which.........
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Skipper in his potting shed.
Having had words with the skipper before about being a messy worker, I was delighted to see dust sheets (well old tee shirts) being used on the bed and dressing table as he stripped out his potting shed. Of course all the contents went straight into the en suite, I shut my eyes and stayed away. I did take the first shot above and so liked it went a little closer for another look. Huh makes my thighs look big. Join the club sweetie.
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Do you think this has had it then ???
Bear came at me during my cathartic phase and asked was this once functioning ice cream pot qualified for the bin. I furnished him with a replacement and off he went back to his dark, boys refuge and place of solace. Well it would be if I could just step in it but once the stuff has been reloaded I can only stand at the door and admire. Admire away then captain.
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One ready for the UK.
Four carrier bags for the next rubbish run and one large case nearly full to go back to the UK. Not a bad mornings work. Do I have to worry. No, but don’t look. The worst bit is all the sneezing as dust escapes. The worst bit is worrying what may have escaped in secret to the bins. Yes, but deep joy, it’s like the old days when I always threw stuff on a Thursday morning after you had gone to work – just before the bin men came. I got away with it mostly, just occasionally you asked for something and in all honesty I could answer that “I haven’t seen it for ages”.........Huh. Anyway it’s not that often that I have three big wheelie bins at my disposal. Just as bloody well.
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Next came the strangest request I have ever heard. If I call you can you come and get me out. Oooooo sounds promising. Captain was going to get into the anchor locker. Best done, funnily enough, when the anchor chain is busy outside. Apparently, he has to get in with his arms by his side and work until his feet feel like they have visited a Chinese foot binder in days of long ago. At this point he can either work his way back out or cramp sets in and I have to go (in theory) to extract him. Is it worth a victory on the gaming board Skipper ??? Huh. A sponge was cut to size, squadged in and sealed in place, hopefully this will stop the water ingress into the bow thruster box. Fingers crossed.
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Well the captain extricated himself without assistance from the first mate and after the job was done came a wry smile. We feel sure there are enough chores remaining until the weather changes and we can set off.
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Ladies fingers for supper. Although these stubby little chaps could be called skippers digits.