No, thanks. Once is enough. Poets: just dream weavers.

 

Now trying to learn 'Yesterday', despite its 12 base chords:

 

Suddenly I'm not half the man I used to be, there's a shadow hanging over me....

 

Ah, well.

 

Oh, incidentally, there in nothing to report here apart from our new noon position: close to half way to the eastern most Cape of Brazil. Fresh bread tomorrow, hope that the last of my previously frozen bread can be revived for lunch with the damping/toasting technique. My last two South African eggs last night: well past their sell by date, and rattling in their shells; yet odour free, and tasted OK. waste not, want not!