A shuffling 2.5 steps forward, a dashing dinkie two-step back

'Sarf & West mate, Sarf & West'
Pete Bernfeld
Thu 5 Apr 2012 08:16

The day started well, it wasn't raining and the cat hadn't crapped in the bathroom sink.
After the usual pathetic display of starving to death, I gave the cat his breakfast.
He made a fuss of me after I fed him, which I took as a good omen. I should have known better.
Walking down the road,the humidity was comparatively low. A good glueing and painting day in prospect.
Nearing the yacht club, a car screeched to a halt and 'Arun the Elektrik' got out, smiling and shaking hands.
He always does shake hands, very polite, but usually wants money.
I wasn't disappointed. He'd bargained the cost of an voltmeter for the switch panel down to F$30 from F$80 and did I have it on me or should he stop by later?
Promising to finish the job next week, he'd been in Kadavu (pronounced Kandavu)  for the last two weeks, he took the money and shook hands.
 Had I missed him, he asked? Missed? Perhaps not quite the word. He departed. I counted my fingers.
After the customary Hop Hing brekkers, I went to the boat.
Butto was there, already sanding the components of the office. Then the power went off. Oh good, we could make like that well-known Spanish carpenter, Manuel Sanding!
I put a second coat on the fridge lid. The first was barely dry, so each coat will take about eight hours to dry in this humidity.
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I think of it as 'ethnic', bright and cheerful. If you don't, keep your opinions to yourself!

I wondered if I should go up the mast to check out the top fittings. Then I had a brain-wave (I do sometimes have them, you know!). I had a spare main halyard, shorter than Pythagoras's square on the hypotenuse (spelling?) indicated that it should be, but maybe it would make a new gib halyard, saving me F$375 or thereabouts. Good scheme, but the boys working on the boat next door were spray-painting, and because the power was off they were running a noisy generator. Butto and I could hardly hear each other in the cockpit, so no chance of hearing each other if I was up the mast. Another brain -wave, I doubled  up  the old halyard and pulled it up the mast on a spinnaker halyard, it was long enough, YESSSS,  but why was it so difficult to pull it back down? Ah, well the thing was you see the pulley system attached to the flat plate on top of the mast had come away, the split-pin had obviously come out and the locating pin was no more. Bollicks! How to get the block off the halyard and relocate it? There was a snap shackle spliced onto the halyard and my  'simple  of splicing for idiots' tome, brought at great cost in NZ, was no more . I'd have to attach another line onto the spinnaker halyard, pull it off the mast, remove the block then connect it back up to the top plate. Of course, my sail-repair kit, useful for sewing two lines together, was also 'missing in action'.

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Easy enough to feed new lines and wires through now, after this (below) had been removed.

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Then the tropical depression arrived! Thuder and lightning directly overhead and rain of biblical proportions. Butto and I retreated inside. I gave him his lunch and transport mony and suggested that we break for lunch and see if things improved. After about fifteen minutes the rain got heavier. It was obviously going to be much too humid for painting and glueing, not the least because the rain was hurling itself against the saloon door, and we'd have to keep it closed. I gave Butto his wages for the week and wished him a happy long weekend.
It's still raining more than four hours later, so a good decision methinks!

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The roof panels are up temporarily until Arun connects the wiring. At least it looks more like home!

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The new battery box. No venting sysem yet, but the batteries aren't yet connected up.
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