A couple of evenings ago, whilst lounging on our famous (some may say infamous) bean-bags with a G 'n' T at sun-down, Chris said he felt like pinching himself to check it wasn't a dream. I had a similar pinch yourself moment yesterday morning; Just after finishing my blog, Chris served me a breakfast of smoked mackerel and poached eggs in the cockpit, and as I tucked in our Swiss neighbours looked over and wished me a “Good appetite”. It was one of those, “It doesn't get much better than this” moments.

The rest of the day was pretty darned good too. Since returning to the boat I've started to make a bit more of an effort to dress up when we go out, and I think that – and the prospect of a nice meal in a posh restaurant – prompted Chris to go shopping for a smart pair of shorts and a shirt. Marks and Sparks had just the outfit and I have to say Captain Blunt doesn't half scrub up well.

So last night a very well dressed couple enjoyed chateaubriand and a lovely Rioja in Gauchos, a converted Casemate – a special treat for, supposedly, our last night in Gibraltar. Ruth's parcel arrived yesterday afternoon so Chris decided we should leave today. I was secretly praying for Easterlies all day 'cos I don't want to leave. I admit part of it is apprehension after three months of not sailing, but the other part is I love it here. So when Chris said “I think this is the happiest I've ever been in my life” over dinner I questioned why we were moving on. So we're not. Not yet.

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