First night in the UK

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Inside the ferry.

We headed off to the Isle of Wight last weekend to get Masquerade ready for her trip to the boatyard, so we set off for Portsmouth at 9am for the 12 o’clock ferry. And we made it onto an 11:30 one. Wikka’s first time on a ferry.

Unfortunately, when we turned up to talk to Terry at the boatyard he was interviewing so James didn’t get to talk to him. We found out later that he hadn’t made it clear who was worth interrupting him for and James should have been on that list of people.

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You want me to get on that thing?

Anyway, that ‘to do’ item unchecked, we headed for the marina to introduce the dog to the concept of the boat. He’s fine on our little river boat but Masquerade was a bit challenging for him. Although at one point, when I was trying to coax him down the companionway, he decided that it really was easy to get off the boat so he legged it and was halfway down the pontoon before I caught up with him. That was his default to whenever we tried to get him below deck.

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Maybe it’s not so bad.

Still, he coped well and at one point managed the steps by himself.

But back to the weekend. I was in charge of cleaning the galley and James was in charge of tinkering; however, we were in weekend mode and once we’d made up the bed (berth) in the main cabin, we decided we needed a lunch break. We’d had sandwiches on the ferry so we went for a pint at the Lifeboat pub/restaurant in the marina,  and very nice it was too – Bombardier Gold for James and London Pride for me.

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The Lifeboat.

As if two boats weren’t enough, Wikka then had to endure the chain ferry from East Cowes to West Cowes; he coped very well, however, and was as good as gold when we dragged him along to a couple of chandleries for bits. (I don’t know what bits, just boat bits. ) As was I, come to think of it. My hints at a Tilley hat (like the one Paul may have been wearing in some of the photos) fell on deaf ears and I wasn’t interested in bits.

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On the chain ferry.

I think the first visit was relatively unsuccessful, ending in the purchase only of some cord for the dodgers (the cord on the port dodger had started to come adrift at sea). See, I’m getting up to speed with the technical terms; if I haven’t mentioned it before, dodgers are those things with Masquerade on them.

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Home of the Black Sheep.

We had a small break in between two chandleries for a quick stop at the Cowes Ale House, which looked particularly inviting, and did a splendid pint of Black Sheep. At our second stop we both got gloves (I may not have whined enough about the fact that it was impossible to keep hands dry and warm on the voyage, but maybe that’s better for a sailor’s wife tip), after some hilarity on the part of the nice man in the shop when James tried his on the wrong way round. He maintained that having the shiny, grippy bits on the outside was a fashion statement, sort of a Michael Jackson bling effect.

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Inside isn’t so bad after all either.

IMG_3182Not surprisingly, after the two pints each, cleaning and tinkering were not a huge priority so we decided that Saturday should be a day off and Sunday would be the energetic day. We fed Wikka, who by then was hungry enough not to do his usual “Oh, must I eat in a strange place?” dance. After a little desultory tinkering and cleaning, we set off to the Lifeboat for dinner, having booked a table. Chicken fajitas (excellent) and ice cream (took longer than any ice cream I’ve ever eaten – nearly a half hour wait, though to be fair we were in no real rush) later we wandered back for an early night.
So exciting – the first night on the boat in the UK, even if sailing wasn’t on the agenda this time.

 

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