Las Palmas

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Here my will to live has been hijacked by Ian, off sightseeing Gran Canarias Island, and Maxine who has bolted for the hairdresser and manicurist. They left together this morning and I stayed behind to tidy up the new start battery installation and unblock the aft toilet. Note that they went with my blessing and at my urging, reluctantly even. They have more than earned a break from this old curmudgeon.

Now they’ve gone off together provisioning – a dreadful business at the best of times – insisting it is so much easier without me. What a splendid pair they are. 

We got into Las Palmas at dawn yesterday after a bumpy, fast and sleepless night. This is a big and colorful commercial port with lots to look at. A snug marina berth and lots of yachts finishing or starting transatlantic passages. We’ll be here for 3 days doing boat stuff, I reckon. But for us, sleep comes first.

It isn’t tropical here – in fact it is cool and wet – but it feels like the tropics are out there ahead somewhere. Personally I’m ready for them. Now it is raining and I’ve repaired to a waterside cafe. Yes I know, Chris, but I deserve one!

When I can be bothered, I’ve been thinking about energy. Where does one get it from, how do you keep it and why does everyone else seem to have more of it than I do? On board I’ve still got the strength, even some of the agility. But that old bouncebackability has taken flight. And I don’t like it. Senescence approaches. 

Ian complained he didn’t have enough locker storage. Chris would be proud of me – I promptly donated 30 books from a foward locker to a local cafe and more are to follow. Because I’ve now got my Kindle! What a joy and a comfort that little thing is! I’m reading Margaret Macmillan on the origins of the First World War – an extraordinary, inevitable series of stupid domino effects! I hadn’t quite realised.

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