Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.

We have been here forever, almost, it seems, until the last syllable of recorded time.
But, tomorrow we should be out of here.  The parts for the foil arrived today and are now fitted.  The boom is back on and the last coat of paint has been applied.  I am aiming for the traditional naval departure time of 10.00.
All is well.
 
My posh neighbour returns to the element for which she was intended:
 
 
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Meanwhile, Sylph attempts to remain dignified and, in her own way, stately, compared to this piece of frippery:
 
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