TUESDAY 20^th Nov.  STILL IN PLYMOUTH, STILL WAITING       .

We had a visit this morning from Sam the Spanner Man, whose name is actually Phil.  He’ll be along with his special spanners which go round funny shapes and into invisible spaces tomorrow, to remove part of the gear box.  The problem is almost certainly merely a seal replacement and small bits like that but if the shaft is scored or damaged then the only source of a replacement we have come up with (“we” being several people spending ages on computers and faxes and the phone) is in the States.  Fingers crossed that that’s not the case.

Time estimate: one day to get it out, one day to put it back, one day or two on Phil’s workbench; plus waiting time for the parts to arrive. With the weekend, when nothing happens, adding to the delay. We’re talking about a week at the least, and I am very gloomy and upset about this.  This is what I paid a man in Southampton to do earlier this year.  Clearly he did not.  Just charged me a huge amount of money.

The wait is going to make us all anxious also about the arrival date in the Canaries.  But it’s not the least good thinking about that until we know when we can leave …. And then there may be more delay because of weather dependency.  Right now would be great, with winds from the north and the east.    Instead of sitting here up a remote backwater, in the relentless rain,

The men have packed their bags – they’re back off home until further notice.  Bill has already left: train to catch to Worcester.  Mike is sitting here waiting for Davy, as they will travel together. Davy went, this morning, to the village pub, courtesy of a lift with Phil, to collect several 1 litre bottles of gin (he gets through one a day).  He has still not returned, and easy-going Mike is now calmly resigned to having to unpack his bag, cancelling his arrangements for being collected at the other end, and staying here tonight.  I, too, shall go home, but probably just the weekend.  We shall see.  I am pretty fed up about it all, as you can imagine.  It’s not just my own life this impinges upon.  I keep having to tell myself that it is a minor contingency, compared to, say, a disaster such as an abandon-ship situation in mid-Atlantic …. But the thought doesn’t really help.  By tomorrow, when Phil turns up with his bags of tools and jacks and lifting equipment, and Mike and Davy have left, I’ll be able to get busy, start to tidy up, clean the boat up, feel more positive. 

Sounds of Davy returning.  4.15!

Bye!