Not a Wringer

A trip down to check the boat. It's clearly not been entirely watertight, though it's reassuring to find that as much water gathers in the bilge when it's in the yard as when it's on its mooring. After that I bought some socks. I did. Imagine not receiving socks for Christmas.
Anyway, another night out on the razzle beckons. Or, a dinner party, as it's sometimes known in these parts. Is there no end to this festive festiving? I'll be wrung out, so I will.