We are on our way again!

We are on our way again!

Just as we thought our circumstances in the yard at Port Corbiere were getting intolerable Christophe, the yard man, came to see us and said "Desole" which basically means sorry. He had spoken to Ludovic our engineer and had realised that he had put us in a 'merde' position. 

He promised to move Hermy to a more becoming spot for a lady to have her bottom seen to, which he did. And, to top that, while we were seeing the(Monsters Inc) lady in the office about invoices, he came in and insisted that we should be given two free days because of all the dust and shit we had endured.

'Ce matin' may mean this afternoon, 'apres midi' may mean tomorrow and 'prochaine semaine' may mean never but we like the French very much. Who voted for Brexit?

At this point the French could do no wrong. They do however seem to have a single, but most important,  weakness. Launching boats!

Bottom soothingly repaired, we are told we can go back in the water a day earlier than expected. 

Hooray I don't like living in yards. So all we have to do is to speak to Christophe to get an early launch and we can hit Sanary Sur Mer about 30 miles away. A quick phone call on the advice of Ludovic, our engineer mate, tells us we can book a berth but we have to get there before six.

Christophe is duly button holed and agrees that we can be launched in a 'petite heure'  We haven't heard of this time period so we ask for an indication on my watch. It's a quarter to ten so he points to quarter past. Ah half an hour. So that will be an hour then?

No.

It's two hours.

Not in a particularly good mood, we watch as Hermy is dragged to the water's edge for craning in. At least it's a crane. What can go wrong? It's not Christophe but some chap called Philippe who appears to understand some English and is surrounded by a number of young, gazelle like, men.

All seems to be going okay as they pass the strops underneath the boat to be attached to the large hooks on chains above. I notice that one of these young chaps is on board and taking the two hooks for the starboard side around the backstay. He then encounters the bimini strop and the antennae on the pushpit. The next bit, in hindsight, was the exuberance of youth. But, sod hindsight. 

This utter prick does no less than stand on the top of the life raft, taking the two massive hooks in each hand and launches himself, chimpanzee like, around the antennae and bimini strop, hitting both and crashing in to the stantions on the starboard side.

Well, that was it, the French may have been the recipients of a few British salvos in their time but not quite on the level of this truly Kilbride rant. It is safe to say that the yard men at Port Corbieres now say 'mind my English' if they inadvertently swear. 

Apoplectic does not quite describe two weeks of pent up frustration. I immediately climb the ladder on to the boat, amongst a silent lifting crew and start looking for damage. All appears to have survived. Not least the pillock himself, although it wasn't the stupid leap that brought him closest to death during this incident. His reprieve coming from the fact I could find no damage despite some of the cracking, crashing noises I heard.

This was a poor way to leave Port Corbieres but we were very glad to leave. I wish I had had the vocabulary to explain that old Bill,from SEGAS club, launches over 50 boats in two days voluntarily -ish every year in British weather, with tides and I have never seen the slightest damage to anyone or anything. Admittedly his youngest 'Gazelle' is around 65. The French have taught me to appreciate Bill. He could clearly teach them a thing or two.

No leaks (neither the boat or me) and finally on our way.

 Brexit was clearly the right thing to do!

We make it to Sanary Sur Mer and by the time we are there we have reduced the blood pressure considerably.

What a pretty little spot.