A shaded cockpit protects us as we sit, drinks in hand, watching weekend traffic at the marina. The BC is in vinho heaven with prices even on the continent in the $3 a bottle range for her favourite tipple. My beer is poured from a litre bottle of SuperBock into a glass I stole (along with Randy of Babykiller Bee fame) from a bar in Greenwich Village a couple of years ago.
It is warm and we have just returned from the grocery store.
Today we completed arrangements for replacement parts to the boat and now have no gainful employment. Maybe tomorrow I will work on the boat.
Dinner is in two hours with Dennis and Cheryl aboard the only other Cabo Rico 38 in Europe, it moored by purest chance only two slips away from us here at the marina. Not a big fan of coincidence or other quasi religious experience I wonder at this.
Here and now we have time to spend on such weighty problems.