Today has been the first day that I’ve edged towards not wanting to be here.
It’s been a good day so far; we’ve been out in the bay with nice gentle F3-F4 westerlies doing boat handling drills and occasionally rescuing Bob, who’s a fender with a habit of falling overboard any time we’re not paying enough attention and/or Ian thinks it’d be funny.
A few months ago, that would have been a dream day out, but it’s the beginning of a fourth relentless week and part of me would really like to just have a day off, be woken up by a pouncing cat in my own bed next to my wife, and not be on a boat.
I knew this would be hard work when I signed up, and started to realise just how hard after the first week. I’m beginning to find it draining, even as I find comfort in being outside my comfort zone. There are 11 more weeks to go after this one, albeit with a 2 week break for Christmas. It’s still fantastic to be sat on the deck in a Spanish marina listening to people below discussing tidal streams in secondary ports, but I’m sooo tired.
But I can do 11 more weeks. And on Friday my lovely wife lands at the airport I can see over yonder, and while I’m not going to get woken up by the fur-ball, on Saturday I do get to wake up with my wife. And not on a boat.