Ah for plans. All set for a 9am start, we went round to the west harbour to play with the new sail before setting off. My fool fault that when Mr N cast off the mooring buoy, we went forward, rather than drifting back as I had planned. Result - a rope round the prop shaft. Three hours later after much struggling and a frozen arm, I managed to get it cut off. These things are OK if you only do them once I imagine, and learn from them.
But for the moment, I just cracked open a beer and sat in the sun on the boat. So, whereto? A trip round a couple of islands (above) and we ended up in a nasty little squall before running to find refuge in Aberdour. It's OK! There are pubs and a decent restaurant. And the local boaty club gave us a set of clubhouse keys. It was just like being on holiday. In Fife. Like old times, in fact.