Healing Hermy's bottom.

When you have been married for 23 years there are small, intimate, little occasions that demonstrate that bond of love, fellowship and togetherness. Whilst returning from a very warm visit to the Marseille history museum one of those small, heart warming, moments occurred. We entered the bus back to Corbiere at Joliette and as we sat down on the, just about, double seat, briefly our bare knees gently came in to contact, our eyes met.

Mrs K cemented the moment: " Keep your sweaty leaking body away from me you great big hot fatty lump."

Love!

And so the process of getting Hermy right again begins. Port Corbiere, or infact the village of L'Estaque as it happens to be in, is not a bad little spot. Nice village centre and a small beach the other side of Corbiere yard. The beach was very crowded at the weekend to the extent that you knew you were swimming in 20% urine but it was much more pleasant during the week.

Living in a boat yard however is not quite what we were looking for.  Hermy has been left to defend her dignity amongst old work boats all of whom seem to be having a grinding festival. Dust everywhere.

We believe that Hermy's bottom suffered damage during her launch at Port St Louis. We think the strange tractory thing that works like a forklift lowered her in to the water but as it was being extracted the pad upended and dug in to the hull.

It is in a very awkward position beneath the fuel tank. We have been very impressed with Lud'eau Services undertaking the repair.  Communication is through sign language and a nice old boy who has a boat in the yard and is a mate of Monsieur Sorroche, the boss. They are all so helpful that we may need to hand out some alcohol at the end of it.  Our insurance people, Navigators and General, have also defied the commonly held belief in the yard that they will take weeks to okay it. Having received the quotes it took them less than a day.

 The question is, can we get back in to the water before the holding tank overflows? Or the urine to bodily contact ratio may increase dramatically.

So we have had to rough it wandering around Marseille for a week. 

Scavenging for food and drink.

I was happily wandering around the market in Jolliette square thinking what a lovely peaceful lot these Marseillians are when I found myself looking over a stall of bits and pieces, my eyes fell upon a range of knuckle dusters for sale. As I was trying to work out what charges the stall holder might face in Blighty, I was joined by a well dressed, very slightly built lady who, at a guess, was, well seven stone fully hydrated and in to her seventies. She picked up several of the weapons and slid her boney fingers in to each to try them for size. She picked one and paid the stall holder while we stood there with our mouths open not really knowing what to think. Yet another French moment that I missed getting a photo for. I bet her old man is in for a shock when he gets home and says "where's my tea?" tonight.

Mrs K did look at them thoughtfully I noticed.

They have started healing Hermy but as always things have to get worse before they get better.

Hermy has joined in the grinding fest. Very unbecoming for a 'Lady'.

The yard is about half a mile up the road from the village but unfortunately there is some sort of club next door and as we have now experienced a full week here it seems that the night air is saturated with some kind of Bongo band on a Saturday and some sort of clubby music on a Wednesday going on until 3:30 am. As well as a lot of screechy cars. Oh and on Friday we woke up to the pleasant sound of a pneaumatic drill beside our boat.  Despite this, the proximity of a busy road and the odd nuisance group of rowdy youths everything is fine! And I use to complain about generators on hotel boats.

So what shall we do about the holding tank? Well we could carefully pump some out in to a bucket and dispose of it. This would take careful coordination and communication between a couple who know how each other think, can second guess the others next move,  who are used to working to a plan with precision. I'll hold the bucket you pump three times and then only pump when I knock on the hull. Bucket one filled and disposed off carefully. The plan works like clockwork. The second bucket reaches completion and is moved from the outlet. I didn't knock - but she did pump!

Straight to the showers whilst wife cycled behind giggling. Not a good week.

Hopefully we will be out of here by Wednesday.