Myself and Emma travelled up to Ipswich to load up the boat with supplies, and most importantly collect the keys to my new boat! and a folder full to the brim with boaty stuff. The previous owner Steve didn’t seem to want to throw anything away, so I had a folder full of todo lists, receipts for all sorts of work, and instruction manuals with 1980’s classic designs of women with buffon hairstyles smiling grimacingly! It dawned on me slowly that Steve had invested a lot of money on things I knew nothing about, which was great as it mean’t I didn’t have to, though equally I wouldn’t have known to either.
The Friday rush around the delights of Ipswich involved buying food supplies, purchasing poorly built flash lights from argos, and petrol which ended up being Emma’s task, which entailed walking miles around Ipswich looking for petrol stations, for this I am truly grateful, mostly because otherwise we’d still be bobbing around off the east coast of England now.
Steve turned up in the evening with a battery he’d been charging, and we headed out for dinner to celebrate at the local pizza palace, afterwards we headed to the local yacht club to which we were greeted by some old salty dogs, some banter, and observed some ribbing by Steve’s fellow friends who I guessed knew him of old.
Given that I had no knowledge of sailing, and not wanting to end up on news as another ‘and finally….’ story, I asked if Steph could help me sail the boat down, which she thankfully agreed to. Steph turned up later and we loaded her stuff into the boat and we all hit the sack.
Steve was going to see us off the next morning, but given the quantity of beer we had consumed in high spirits of our impending adventure, I doubted he’d be up at 6am to wave us a tearful goodbye.