Cycle Path

A trip to the appropriately named Seadogs last night with jolly old Roger. Smoked hake in beer batter. Washed down with a bucket of white wine, of course. A drunken sailor on the 44 bus.
Today, after a night in the longboat getting sober, visited mum and then cycled (above) down to Granton to see if the boat was still there. It was. The boy came along too and he puttered me over to it. What a grand day it turned out to be. Only two weeks sailing to go until lift out and I must make the most of it. I'd been slightly put off by some yacht up Peterhead way being rescued in 18' waves and by a yachtie chap disappearing near Arisaig. Mind, as I always say to myself for reassurance, what's the worse that can happen?