Father’s Day

Today we set out early and were at the fuel pontoon just as it opened. A couple on a French boat came along just after us and we took their lines. They had a toffee coloured dog that looked like a large poodle, but was not one. When the woman took the dog ashore for a walk as they waited, the dog tried to come aboard Lyra and the woman had to restrain it. She was lovely and we conversed in any words we all understood. They had been in Turkey and Greece, which they had loved, but were now on their way back to France. The dog was from Italy. I said we hoped to go to Greece one year and she said one year was not enough and held up five fingers, five at least for all the islands. Meanwhile the young man operating the pumps made an excellent job of filling us up and not spilling any. Fuel is a lot more expensive here than in France, we should have filled up there.

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We were away by half past eight and off on a long motor across the gulf. Part way across we lost telephone signal, but when it came back the journey was made brighter by an e-present and text messages from the girls wishing John a Happy Fathers Day. The present is a visit for both of us to a vineyard in Holmfirth, so we will be drinking the Last of the Summer Wine when we come home. Most of the journey was fine, but the last two hours we danced a two step round a thunderstorm and the last hour was spent in rain. Luckily it had just about stopped raining when we arrived in the large harbour.p1170334 John radioed in and we were asked to wait for a marinera to come out. It always seems a long time drifting around, especially when other boats start to arrive, but then our man arrived waving at us from the end of a pontoon. He spoke as much English as we spoke Italian, but finally we understood where to go, he met us, took the lines, did the paperwork and shook our hands. Grazie. John went straight to the office and paid on the card, and then he started phoning the girls to thank them for their gift. First Lara, because she had called us just as we were coming into the harbour, so John had been forced to ring off on her and then Katie, who had a train to catch. Mid way through Katie a man was calling us from the pontoon. I went up on deck . He was a different marinera, and he was very sorry. He was sorry because the place we were in was promised to another boat. We would please have to move. Our original man, who had made a mistake and was also sorry was waiting for us there. There, was a much more exposed berth along the main quay. So John hung up on Katie too and we had to disconnect the shore power, wrestle the muddy lazy lines off and set out across the marina again. Both men were very sorry. We were pretty sorry ourselves. Anyway we tied up again, spoke to Katie and then to Emma. John washed down the now filthy deck and we both had a shower before John finally sat down to enjoy a well earned Father’s day beer. We then found our new berth was miles away from anything, we had to walk all around the harbour wall and through the boatyard to access a miserable bar and a deserted restaurant. We decided to spend the rest of Father’s Day back on board and wondered if the sorry mistake in our berthing would have happened if we had chosen to pay cash.

 

 

 

 

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