Left at 0700, past seals cavorting in the harbour entrance, lining up the orange markers again in reverse, and turning southeast for a close coastal passage.  At 0925 we passed Berwick-on-Tweed, which meant we have left Scotland, and we texted friends and families to tell them so. Soon after we passed Lindisfarne (Holy Island) with hazy views of the monastry, then inshore of the Farne Islands and past the huge Bamburgh Castle.  Once again the wind got up and the sea became heavier with an unpleasant swell, enough to make us wonder why we do it!  Approaching Amble, I was concerned about our clearance with tidal height over the cill at the harbour entrance, so called the HM on VHF. He said we would have to hurry to make it, so we gunned our reliable Volvo and actually entered the harbour with just above 2metres of water (we need over 1.7 to be sure of avoiding a grounding). I had requested to start at the fuel pontoon, and our man was there to greet us, take our lines, and fill us up - 80litres, meaning our tank was down to about 20litres. (We are lucky that the engine is very economical, using about 1.7 litres per hour, so in practice we could motor for more than 4 days without refuelling if we had to.)  We were directed to a nice berth, where our man met us again, and we saw him again in the office: he was a very pleasant albeit extremely garrulous chap, full of useful advice about the various shallow areas on the way out of the harbour, and our earliest safe exit time the next day (probably about 1000 - music to Cate's ears!). We made use of the laundry in the well-appointed facilities.  The HM had also advised us which pub would be best to go to, preferably avoiding the High Street, which did indeed seem to be fairly rough, with rather ugly 'yoof' much in evidence.  In the evening we found the Wellwood, which was fine, and ate there (chowder and sausage and mash) and watched the amazing Olympic closing ceremony almost to the end on a large screen. Even there the clientele  were a little odd: one strange man repeatedly introduced himself to us, and gave Cate a neck massage, and another, seeing we were doing the Telegraph cryptic crossword as is our habit, said in a broad Geordie accent 'Can I have a look, I'm a reet nosy bugger?!' (He did actually know his crosswords, and got one clue for us.) Back to bed for a slower start next day