Day 361 – Beelzebug!

Day 361 – 13th July 2011

Horta, Faial (Ilha Azul, the blue island)

Pico Alto

Mensa Invitational once again invited readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. 

Here is my favourite from the winners, it was so appropriate:

 

Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

During the night, afore mentioned Beelzebug entered the forepeak and launched an unwielding attack on both of us. We woke up itching and scratching the numerous bites covering arms legs and unmentionable places.

We moved the boat to our berth opposite the 40’ racers and watched the crews scurry about making last minute adjustments to rigs and sails while stocking the boats for the return leg of the race back to France.

Aboard the She of Feock, there was work to be done to prepare for the trip to England. Spares to find, lists to write, improvements to make, lockers and presses to clean…

We cleaned and cleaned, checking the stores and added to the ever-growing list.

Dan went off to collect his parcel of a new water tank and left it in the cockpit out of sight (out of mind).

Rather than face the tough jobs that had to be done, we walked to beach and had an important strategic planning meeting (over a beer or two).  It’s all in the planning!  It was a day of talk but very little action, a day of rest and relaxation.

After a well-earned and pricey shower at €2 per person, though mine was free, not actually free, but the woman didn’t see me go in or come out and I wasn’t aware I had to pay, it was back on-board for dinner!

We ate at the very early un She of Feock time of 19.30 and had an early night ready for more boat work the next day.

Menu Today

Breakfast         Tea and porridge

Lunch               Cheese and salad rolls

Dinner             Spanish tortilla and salad with a bottle of Pico red wine

Snack               a galao, sprite, banana and a pear

Meraid Griffin

Freelance writer, adventurer and public speaker. Descibed in the Sunday Times as a ‘modest explorer’. Nothing modest about me.

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