Seriously, we can’t and won’t leave to sail across the North Atlantic Desert without the spare high-pressure pump for the Magic Machine (the gizmo that turns seawater and diesel into drinking water). The current situation is a classic squeeze play to catch a captain between arrival deadlines and seamanship, reassuring to see Eliza coming down on the side of prudence.  No surprise there. Yes, yawn, yes…seaMANship and a female captain aren’t PC…sue me.

Why on earth the manufacturer doesn’t insist on selling these things with a complete spares kit is beyond me…but at the moment no one aboard is accusing them (or the delivery company and Canadian customs) for being overly clever. Clearly, the ‘next day’ delivery we had paid for to have said pump shipped from California actually meant ‘next lunar day’…silly us.
 
Almost 0600, time to set for breaking fast. Good morning my girls! All my love, Kent 

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