Our blissful Boxing Day sail was brought to a ripping end.  At 10:30pm the cruising chute tore asunder with a mighty crack.  Fleur, sleeping in the forepeak was woken by the noise and when she looked up through the hatch was somewhat bemused that that there was no garish sail boogying in the breeze.  She flew to the rescue.  Bob was woken to join the fray and together, in their pyjamas, under the beam of the deck lights, they hauled in the remains from where they floated around Wind Charger like Ophelia’s hair, bagged them up and put up the genoa. We can only think that the cruising chute had probably been damaged when it attacked the forestay on Christmas Day or that simply after 20 years (140 in dog and cruising chute years) it had simply had enough. This has curtailed our wonderful progress of yesterday and cook is thinking that she may have to resort to serving up the emergency Fray Bentos steak and kidney pies before we actually reach Antigua.

I have to say, on a completely serious note, how pleased we are to have Haley and Fleur with us.  They turn mountains into molehills, scamper athletically round the deck, get really stuck in at every opportunity and keep the crew’s spirits on a high with their sense of fun.  Brilliant.

Feeling somewhat out of the spotlight, Gerry decided to stop again mid cycle to focus attention back where it belonged.  (Just so me,me, me). However, Bob has had a missive from Wind Charger’s last keeper, who had read the blog and the on going tale of woe.  He very kindly offered the advice that he had had trouble before with air in the primary filter.  This made absolute sense, to Bob, and has proved correct.  Thank you so much Lloyd, but what is Bob going to worry about now?

Bob felt unwell last night at supper (he claims that this is absolutely nothing to do with the menu of pasta and goulash but I have some remaining doubts) and Fleur has been feeding the fishes over the stern rail.  Too much sun?  Too much excitement?  Cook’s cooking?  We will have to wait and see.