Daily Report #25

One day,
"What day is it?" "It's Thursday, does it matter?" 'No actually not."
I stand in a close embrace with the sturdy pole next to the stove, waiting for the water for the coffee to boil. We just had lunch inside. Bread with fried egg. The bread is the best of my breads so far. Knead long enough so that it has become a good, firm bread, well risen and nicely browned.
When I pour the water on top of the coffee I routinely hold the kettle next to the cup and pour. With a neat arc, the water disappears exactly on top of the coffee. Life on the waves has taken some getting used to. The sea has calmed down a bit during the morning, which is nice. After three rough days of swinging and stomping, bad sleep and a lot of noise, we have some rest. There is also nothing to do!! Everything is whole! We completed the last major job early yesterday morning on a rough sea. Ton will dedicate a blog to that later, he is better at it than I am.
In short, time to reflect. We have lunch inside at the table with the plates on the anti-slip mat. At lunch, we talk about how time doesn't seem to matter anymore. The first days of this leg we were often busy with the distances, calculations, how long, when, if. Now we look at the sea and think . 'It's less hairy this morning' or as a joke 'hey look a wave or was it a trade wind?'
You will make stories with what you see, the shapes of the waves and cloud shapes with fantasy stories from the past resurface and you will of course see everything floating. Too bad a lot of plastic above and under the water, as if they are holding each other, a bucket, a plastic bag and a piece of rope float. My children and I also always give things a soul. You don't want to leave them alone, so if something falls into the water quickly throw something after it, a spit is good. Then it's together and not lonely. The plastic bucket and the rope stay together and continue on their way. A piece of driftwood slides past. Somewhere hundreds of miles back, suddenly a red wooden carved boat with a small stick on it as a mast floated close to the ship. All alone on that great ocean! What story is hidden in that boat and what journey has it already completed and where is it going? We stare into space and think 'one day will appear on the horizon'. Primo Levi “is this a human being”, “Anne Karenina” and “Where the river lobsters sing” go through my head. I've never read so much in a row and still have a whole stack to go. I put a new dot on the sailing chart with date and time. And so we eat, we sleep, we act and we enjoy the days that no longer need to be counted. One day La Reunion appears on the horizon.

Grt M and T