Kokoda Road

Well the hardstand day came and went. A couple of minor repairs on the keel glass, and anti-fouled and a treatment on the hull above the water. She is looking smicko. Can't say enough about the service at Bay Marine at the Royal Perth Yacht Club. Great advice, quality work and a very reasonable price. Grant and the team; thank you.

A couple of breakthroughs. The owner has passed the mooring to me, so I can rent the space from the Nedlands Yacht Club, that's about $11 a week. Sold my spare trailer and a buyer for the trailer sailor has emerged, despite a deposit though, he is yet to come up with the balance. Gave it away really, but he is a newby and I am happy to see a new family entering our world of sailing.

Only had a couple of head-sail only sails as I am still learning how to enjoy the Lady, and I was alone each time. She gets along beautifully.

I am continuously impressed, and intrigued by the number of people who know her. A man came up to me on Sunday last and congratulated me on a great buy. He has watched her for awhile and is glad to see her being used and cared for again.

Even the mooring contractor tells me he knows her well, I didn't have to tell him the position or where the mooring was, just that it was Cavalier Lady!

In retrospect I am glad I dropped my size from 34 plus to a 32. The gear is easier to handle and, alone, she is not a big handful.

A tidy up, removal of excess gear and another wash-down and she is starting to look good again. Given the great price I got for the hardstand work, anti-foul and hull treatment, I saved enough for a splash out; so re-covered cushions and internals it is.

Can't wait to have a few hours to just sail and not work, maybe next weekend.

Keep you posted.

Well, got the call, very efficient broker I must say, it has to be said; Tony and Wendy at Vicsail Fremantle. The owner took my first offer with a small condition, one that I probably would have applied for the price as well!. Anyways at this early stage, assuming no blisters or rig corrosion, we should be settling next week. Not excited yet as I have been here before, but quietly confident. Survey set up for Monday, handover, subject to no bad news, likely Wednesday. Hoping to get a hardstand for a day or two to bring the anti foul up to scratch and check any anodes. Had a win with the mooring as well, looks like I may be able to use it for a couple of months, yet to be confirmed, but looking positive.

Great chance to sail the Swan River, one of Perth's most under used and under appreciated assets. Might even be on the water for the Australia Day Light show. Always wanted to do that. Only Sydney is better than ours.

Lady is begging for a dodger and I need a Targa for solar panels. Apart from that she is good to go. Hope I haven't jinxed thinks by mentioning. Have a feeling Mom and Dad are keeping an eye on things.

Well, all excited to get a closer look at the Lady and at the last minute.. I was actually getting in the car to leave when the broker rang.. The owner's agent couldn't get the engine started. Now to the average Joe, this could be seen as an a disincentive straight away. But using my cunning ingenuity, my solid memory and a large dose of positive thinking, I looked at it like this. The motor is less than two years old, it was a factory rebuild when it went in, the owners agent isn't the owner. It wouldn't have done 50 hours.

I leaned towards the fact that she had been sitting idle for a significant time and the agent wasn't experienced at starting her up. Add to this the potential for this to be a good reason to drop the price, I accepted the universes way of doing things and asked the Broker to reschedule as soon as possible.

That was a week ago. Now someone doesn't really want to sell a boat or someone is making so much money selling boats that they don't need to chase leads anymore! Either way after 3 attempts at contacting the Brokerage I was told be a different Broker that they hadn't forgotten me and would get a contact as soon as they can. We shall see.

In the meantime another Broker has contacted me about an Ericson 32 I looked at before Xmas. Loaded with cruising gear, in fact a bit too much, she is also a lovely boat. Comparing the Cavalier 32 and the Ericson 32 is not unlike oranges with oranges. There are very similar in layout. Based on the responses in a "Desktop Internet" survey, the Cavalier is edging in front. Perhaps a slightly prettier boat, like Jennifer Hawkins is a little slightly prettier than Megan Gale, and with a whisker more beam (That does not apply to either Jen or Meag's). Also she is Australian and NZ heritage so that's gotta carry some weight.

The Ericson has a huge amount of cruising gear and is basically sail away to anywhere in the world. I have looked at the outside of both boats and while I smiled when I looked at the Ericson's lines, the Cavalier had me skipping a heartbeat. And you know how much weight that carries!!

Well Ruby Tuesday has sailed away for sure. Took the time to meet the new owner prior to his departure and wouldn't you know it; he was damn nice fellow.

He needed to sail her around the bottom via Albany and/or Esperance and I knew that the leg from Fremantle to the corner had the real potential to be a hammering. Usually on the nose. So I offered him a safe, comfy way out if nature got the better of him by Albany. What he paid for her plus two air tickets home.

Even suggested I could drove down and bring him back to Perth for the flight. Anyways he departed in the nicest breeze I have seen for months and I haven't heard, so I am guessing he is in Melbourne taking a rest by now. What will be, will be.

Went cold on boats for awhile, but revitalized just before Xmas. Got the news of a Challenger 35 for around the high $30k. Did my usual research (Paralysis by analysis) and found the Challenger to be a great blue water cruiser with a solid build and reputation. Met the seller and went for a sail.

Sadly she required a bit more work than I would have liked and a few dollars to be spent straight away. Otherwise a lovely girl.

Then a Cavalier 32. The Cav 32 has a bulletproof reputation with a couple completing a few Sydney to Hobarts. Smaller than I planned but I had a good feeling about her as soon as I started my research. Drawing 1.6m there was even a small chance she could fit on my mooring. Accommodation for 4 or 5 adults and a simple but comfy layout. Bukh diesel with less than 100 hours and a bit of relatively new gear as well. I am off to introduce myself to her tomorrow.

Well, the universe works in mysterious ways. It seems the owner also had a deal with another buyer. Taking a small deposit from him as a back-up in case my offer didn't work out, even though it was more. Problem; accepting cash makes it a binding contract so he is committed to the first buyer, although the transaction occurred after our verbal/text agreement. So Here I wait for the buyer to change his mind after realising the cost, pain and risk, not to mention the time, to get Ruby back to Queensland.

the owner has explained to the buyer that he will not hold him to the deal should he change his mind. I have even identified another V34 almost equal to Ruby Tuesday, and thousands of miles closer to the buyer, in Sydney, and the same price. One hopes he will do the maths and realise the logic. (Perhaps I should start a Change.org page "Keep Ruby Tuesday in WA")

Since Ruby seems betrothed to another, forced marriages are so tragic, I will wait patiently the appropriate time before I resume my quest. But, fellow sailors and those with the heart for the sea, will know that most will now be compared with the apex and perhaps never meet her qualities.

So fellow sea people, allow me to indulge myself a tad. I will attach below some nautical musings I have produced (Copyrighted of course). Cerebral wanderings of the oceanic kind. The result of too much time dreaming and perhaps not enough time doing. Please enjoy, feedback is welcome.

SYNERGY ©2003


The morbid sound of the digital clock's alarm drilled through the morning silence and pierced the sleeping mind of the exhausted occupant of the bed. Monday had arrived. Just prior to the dreamy well endowed redhead saying yes to Rick; he awoke. He raised his head, glanced at the cause of his anguish. The clock proudly informed him that it was 6:00 am. That fact merely irritated him further and he reached for the power cord. With a viscious tug the droning abated and Rick was free to recall his liaison with the Redhead. Try as he did the dream could not be replayed. She was lost. Nevertheless he drifted back into sleep.

Equally as chilling as the clock but more assertive and less controllable, the ringing of the kitchen phone brought Rick back to the world of the awoken. Abusing the deceased digital clock for not working, he casually glanced at his wristwatch. It was 9:30 am the ringing phone instantaneously took on a threatening tone, the caller could only be one person, Peter Wilde, his boss.

Naked and staggering he jumped out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Leaning against the wall he answered.
" Hello, Rick Bowden speaking." His tone was quite pleasant but as an offering it was useless, perhaps even pathetic.
"Jesus Christ Bowden I didn't realise you'd started working part time." Wilde was clearly annoyed.
"Oh, Mr Wilde it's you. Sorry." Ricks return was pitiful.
"Yes Bowden, and unlike you I'm at work. Now get you're skinny arse down here right now we have got things to discuss." Wilde slammed the phone down before Rick could answer.

Standing cold, naked, clutching a silent phone and feeling abused seemed to be a sign. An indication of exactly how this week was going to unfold. Rick hung up the impotent phone and returned to the bedroom.

His first step resulted in an unearthly sensation as an abandoned morsel of last nights pizza was crushed underfoot and the mozzarella surprise oozed between his toes. He hesitated and surveyed the results. Damn, the pizza was beyond saving. Now he would have to buy lunch.

It didn't take long to get organised for work. His clothes were neatly placed in a lump at the end of the bed. He wanted to grow a beard anyhow and these modern deodorants were really effective. Once in his faithful car he felt a little more prepared for the onslaught of his boss.

He turned the key confident, and the dull click not only reflected the condition of the battery; it put an end to any aspirations he had of getting the day back on track. God had a wicked sense of humour and today he seemed focused on Rick.

As 10:15 played its part in the order of the day, Rick arrived at the Holden Automotive Dealership that served as his workplace. Peter Wilde was nowhere to be seen but, like the environment of an African waterhole at sunset, there seemed to be uneasiness in the air, a feeling of predation.

Cathy the receptionist was the first to greet Rick, supportive and a model of telephone etiquette, her words seeped almost honey like.
“Still haven’t learnt, have you dipstick.” Cathy enjoyed the role of resident bitch.

“Gee Cath, that extra 10 kilo’s looks really good on you sweety”. Rick returned. Although a snap comment, he was quite pleased with its delivery, despite her lack of surface reaction, Rick was confident the remark had struck the target with the pinpoint accuracy of a Desert Storm Smart Bomb. He and Cathy hadn’t been able to get on since the great Christmas Party Incident 3 months ago. That was another story, and besides he was sure she was putting out the right signs at the time.



He walked past the shiny new examples of technology on the showroom floor. He often felt uneasy when he watched predatory salesmen swoop up the lives and finances of unwise couples mesmerised by the slick advertising and smooth brochures. Six months down the track the novelty wears off and the reality of repayments the size of their monthly income and interest bills the size of a small African country’s deficit present as the demons that they truly are. The realisation that they have now forgone any chance of getting ahead simply to experience the pleasures that a new car obscenely offered, become the seed for regret, remorse and conflict. Really though, he was part of it.

With only a few metres to walk to the sanctuary of the Parts Department, Rick’s attention is caught by the movement of several people across the showroom. They are the dealerships new owners, the Nakamura brothers. Immaculately dressed, businesslike in every way, with success oozing from every pore, the Japanese executives had absolutely nothing in common with the previous Australian owners.

It seemed a little obscene to Rick that this great Australian icon, the Holden car, was now being supplied to Australians by foreigners. It seemed even more inappropriate that since they had taken over, the dealership had enjoyed a substantial increase in both business and profit, to rub wasabi into the wound, the staff seemed happier, sick leave was down and everybody had become more efficient. It was more than Rick could stomach some times.

His attention diverted, he failed to see that Mr Wilde had seen him and was on route to his position. Rick was reminded of a shark program he had seen on the Discovery Channel; he was sure he saw Wilde’s nictitating membrane close over his eyes as he closed in for the kill. It was a ludicrous thought of course. Mr Wilde was wearing sunglasses; Rick wouldn’t be able to see the membrane from that distance.

“Jesus Christ Bowden, your dad produces 100, 00 sperm and you were the one that had to get through, nature has a lot to answer for!”

Rick assumed the cowering posture so prevalent in prey species.

’We had a power blackout, my clock must have stopped during the night, I slept right through.” Weak but within the realms of probability, the excuse may have worked at another time, or in another galaxy.

“Like everybody else in your life Bowden, I really don’t give a shit about you anymore. Things around here have changed and we need to talk. Come over to the office, oh, and don’t bother clocking on this morning.” The last part of Wilde’s statement was delivered with a distinct hint of almost joy.

The 2 men moved to the glass partitioned office that Wilde called an office. Rick sat down.

Normally I would break this to you slowly, but I don’t want to so here’s the deal. You either take a cut in pay and fill the position of cleaner here at the dealership, or you take 6 months wages in lieu of notice and do a Christopher Skase. Either way you are now superfluous to our needs and your position has been cut. It was clean, neat and effective. Rick’s reaction was predictable and delivered with the inner strength of a Kamikaze Pilot.

“Can I have some time to decide?” He knew he had no options other than those offered.

Wilde’s supremacy was almost complete “Take all the time you need, up until lunch today”.

Numb and confused Rick made his way to the lunchroom; a cup of tea would help him decide. For the second time in 10 years, it seemed he would have to make a decision, was there no end to a caring man’s torment? Decision making, like commitment, was a concept he had consciously and very successfully avoided most of his life.

Almost an hour had passed before the idea came to him. Of course, this kind of treatment by an employer must be illegal. Wasn’t he an honest employee? Didn’t he operate with the company’s needs first at all times? Surely the months of hard work he had put in were worth something. After reflection he was disappointed that he could not realistically answer in the positive to any of these. Nevertheless, this was Australia, you can’t get away with that sort of thing, and workers have rights. He had 1 out of 3 there, yes, this was Australia.

Ascertaining the legality of the company’s actions also introduced a new card into his hand. One he had been trying to avoid for several months. There was really no way around it, he would have to call her.

Christine Bowden new from the time she was 10 years old exactly what she wanted out of life. She was attractive, smart and knew very well that a good education would merely be a back up for her long-term survival. When it came to men and romance, all her friends were opportunistic feeders. Christine was prey-specific. She dabbled with men who took her fancy, but when it came to serious affairs of the heart, she was going to ensure he was from the right Tax Bracket.

Of course that was until she met Rick Bowden.

Initially Rick was bright eyed and filled with plans ideas and real drive to get somewhere. His enthusiasm made up for what he lacked in assets and Christine was confident that despite the fact that if he earned $60:00 a week less he would qualify for a Health Care Card, he was trainable. He was handsome, funny, didn’t smoke and besides he wasn’t nicknamed “Tripod” for nothing. So when Rick popped the question, with little or no input from her head but with all of her heart, she took a chance.

It really only took a year before Christine’s heart was forced to yield to her head. Rick had lost the drive and enthusiasm; his ideas were still just ideas. He still warranted his nickname, but enough was enough. They parted, Rick was devastated, and Christine was a little disappointed.

Her job at the legal firm gave something to throw herself into, while the senior partner, Dave Thomas, gave her something to throw herself onto. After a short space of time they were an item. If Rick added all the numbers of his own phone number together, it was still less than Dave took home every year. Dave’s monthly expense account almost exceeded Rick’s Superannuation, that’s if he hadn’t cashed it in 12 months ago.

Pride was one thing, vengeance was another, and he called Christine at her office.

It seemed that God hadn’t finished with him today. Christine was unavailable as she and Mr Thomas had flown to New Zealand for the week as pre-Honeymoon jaunt. Rick’s numbness had a choice of origins. Christine getting married, Christine off to New Zealand for a quick holiday, Christine with another man, Christine with another man who is going to marry her and be able to take her to New Zealand for a quick holiday. Perhaps it was simply that he couldn’t ask about the legality of his situation at the dealership. He chose the latter as a reason, that was the one furthermost away from an emotion.

Rick convinced himself that he didn’t want to pursue the legal aspect anyway. It would be drawn out and expensive, he had till lunch-time to choose his option.
The dealership was the last place he wanted to be. He retreated to his special place.

The local Marina was quiet and he often lost himself in the fantasies of being able to jump on his own boat and leave the land far behind. Rick would spend hours just walking around the jetties and boat pens. He probably got more enjoyment out of the yachts tied there than the owners. He had been wandering for about an hour when it caught his eye.

Synergy was 11.5 metres long built in solid steel and tethered to the pen in an obviously non yachtsman like manner, the yacht almost beckoned him. She had the look of a toy that had lost its appeal to a spoiled brat. The For Sale sign was fresh and jiggling in the light breeze. Rick had long been converted by the mystery of sail so it was no surprise for him to hear the battle scarred vessel speak to him. After all, boats were people too. It said it only once, but it was clear,
“I am Synergy, I am the answer, and we can help each other”.

With his pulse up and with what seemed like a clearer head, he continued along the jetty. He quickly calculated what 6 months wages amounted to. He had a life insurance policy and a car. If he sold all his worldly belongings, he could probably raise another grand.

He sat down on the jetties edge and thought for a moment. Why not, what have I got to lose? It’s accommodation, transport and a reason to keep busy. The pen fees will be a quarter of my rent and I can get away when-ever I like. She is run down but looks sound, the price is probably right as well. His mind and his pulse were racing. He enjoyed this unknown feeling of excitement. It just felt right.

“There’s but two ways to approach it son, do it or dream it.”
The voice was gruff but tempered with a gentle touch of kindness.

Rick turned around to the origin of the advice. It came from a sea creature. The creature was resident in the cockpit of a 12 metre ketch called “Classique”.
Wes O’Keefe was the owner, master, resident and maintenance man for the wooden yacht. Looking like something out of an After Shave commercial, Wes had the weathered look of a true sea captain.

“So you reckon you know what I’m thinkin?”
Rick’s question was delivered with a smile so as not to appear too cheeky.

“No reckon about it, I see dozens of you mob come down here, dreamin, hope’n. A whole heap of the former but usually there isn’t much a the latter”.

“Oh, I think I might be on the verge of do’ in”
Rick’s comment was meant to allay any fears that he was like the rest. It failed miserably.

“That verge must be a damn big place; lotta people spend a lotta a time there. Have you sailed before?”

“Yeah, quite a bit but not a lot offshore.”
Intuitively Rick realised that bullshit was a waste of time with King Neptune here.

“Offshores not so bad, the best part of course is there’s a lot less land.”
Wes cleared a spot in the cockpit of his realm.
“The kettles on, come aboard if ya like.”

Stepping down from the jetty, Rick made his step into this new world After a few cups of tea and some serious tales, spattered with some clearly valuable advice, his decision to give the dealership the flick and make an offer on Synergy was set in concrete.

“I’ve been watchin her for a month or 2. The price is a lot more than just fair. The dickhead who owned her forget that putting sail up was part of the deal.” His shaking head punctuated the statement with disgust. “She has been over in the southern pens for about a year, that’s why nobody’s seen her”.

She’s been to sea once in all that time. Apparently the owner want’s one a them girly stink boats. Turn the key and go, you don’t need much grey matter for that, suit him down to the ground.”

Wes completed the conversation with an epilogue that summed up his views to life overall.
“Yep, power boats are about being there, yachts are about getting there. Seems to me everybody these days is focused on the destination, not the journey.”

Rick bid his new mentor farewell and climbed back up onto the jetty. He was a different man than had stepped down from it 2 hours before.

Back at the office he phoned Synergy’s owner direct, the final price was well under what he had expected. A check with the dealerships payroll officer found Rick still short by $2000. A counter offer explaining his limitations, secured the yacht for Rick and his entire life had changed in the course of a morning. He hadn’t realised it but he had finally taken control of his own destiny. That realisation was yet to come.

Words could not describe the joy and arrogance with which Rick delivered his decision to Mr Wilde. Wilde’s only comment was simply that if Rick had applied the same amount of enthusiasm to his work, he may well be a just fool instead of a complete dickhead.

Travelling home that afternoon, the new Mr Bowden floated more than he walked. Plans, visions fantasies all raced through his mind, this was great.

By the end of the week he had moved aboard and, through contacts of Wes, had a pen across from his new found mentor that was free for a month.
It seemed God had stopped laughing and was making amends. His greatest development was yet to come.

Evening meals had alternated between his yacht and Classique and over a few weeks Rick felt even more confident that his decision had been the correct one.

The Friday night sunset watch from the cockpit of Synergy had become almost a religion. There they both discussed the worlds problems, and solved a few. The two men exchanged questions and answers in a timeless routine replaying a scene from generations for thousands of years before them, the passing of wisdom. Rick with the endless questions of one new to a fascinating world of discovery. Wes, the purveyor of that wisdom, peppered with comments on life, death and cheap boat parts. Wes sensed a certain sameness in Rick. A reflection of his younger self He was not about to let the young man go down the same track.

“Course the easy part’s been done son.”
Wes had slipped subtly into Mentor mode once again.

“There’s nothin easy about turning ya life upside down and movin aboard”
Rick was justly proud of his efforts over the past weeks.

“Can’t be too hard, ya did it inside 3 days and without a tear.”
Although Rick knew the Mentor was right, again.

“Mate. Thousands of people move aboard with the great adventure burning in their minds. They see the sandy coves, the breathtaking sunsets; some even see themselves mixing it with the savages of a far off pacific island. Dreamers’ son, they see the beginning and they see the end. The middle is conveniently forgotten.”

Typical of wise guidance in folk-lore, the last part was the key to understanding the first part.
“The middle my boy, involves the toughest part of the whole equation.”

The silence and the hesitation were not only expected but essential to the point. The obvious question did not need to be verbalised. Its answer was delivered with the artistry Rick had come to expect and appreciate.
“Actually leaving.”

“What, slipping the lines and heading out, that’s difficult? But that’s the whole idea.” Rick sensed in himself the truth in Wes’s statement. He himself had felt the pangs of fear associated with the reality of actually slipping the lines.
“You must have got over it, how hard was it for you?”

The boy deserved honesty.
“Haven’t done it yet.”

“Bullshit, you’ve lived aboard for 16 years, how does that make sense.”
Rick was almost disappointed.

“Moving aboard and actually leaving are 2 different things. I did a trip to Bunbury two years ago, oh and I spent Christmas at Rottnest Island, but I haven’t actually…left, yet.”
There was no regret in the revelation, but it was obvious that Wes knew the damage it would do in Rick’s eyes.

“So are you ever going to leave, or are you happy being a permanent attachment to the jetty?”
Barbed but effective; the comment was motivated by disappointment.

“Actually, I’ve been thinking and it just occurred to me that I’ve been waiting for the right reason.”

“What reason?”
Rick was hoping it would make things clearer

“Synergy.”
It didn’t.

“Synergy, what’s she got to do with you leaving?”
The loom of the light that was a relief to Rick’s disappointment was visible on the horizon.

“Do you know what Synergy means?”
It was rhetorical, and besides Rick didn’t have a clue.

“Synergy, the value of the whole is greater than the sum of its total parts.”
The explanation only clouded Rick’s attempt at understanding. At this point Rick was confident that he was not the sharpest tool in the shed.

“Do not speak in wayward tongues oh incredibly wise one.”
Even in humour Rick’s lack of awareness was clear.

“Watch my lips. Alone, you and I are worth the same as two sailors with a dream and that’s where it ends. Together, we are two sailors with a plan, that’s the sum of its total parts. The value of the whole is us actually leaving. Are you still with me oh incredibly thick one?”
It took a couple of seconds but the intention of the explanation began to take shape. Rick had actually experienced a breakthrough. The silence was broken by a sound that almost created terminal whiplash for Rick as he spun around.

“I heard about it but I had to see it to believe it.”
Christine had obviously returned from New Zealand.
“Mr Potato Head,” Her long-time nick-name for Wilde back at the car dealership, “told me you had actually done it, you actually followed through on one of your dreams, my god, can it be true.”

Rick was speechless, excited, and hopeful and aroused in one cocktail of emotion, nevertheless, he felt he must retain his composure.
“Not only is it true, but Wes here and I were just talking about our departure date, next month. What are you doing here?”

“A girl doesn’t get to experience a miracle very often, this one I had to see.”
She was sincere but still fulfilled the abrasive role of ex-wife.
“I’ve been thinking, and if you are actually doing this, we need to talk.”

“You can’t have a share of the yacht, I have nothing in the bank, and I gave blood last week. I have nothing you need.”
He was particularly proud of the blood comment.

“Trust me baby, what I need you have always had. It appears however that it has lain dormant. I am here to find out.”
She was obviously concerned about something, almost hopeful. Rick was becoming confused.

After 3 glasses of red wine, introductions to his mentor and a tour of his aquatic home, Rick was eyeing Christine with a new view. No longer a victim and exercising the cynicism and vengeance of that role, he was a man in control of his life. He was stronger, he had no time for negative thought, he could take or leave this woman, it mattered very little either way. Right now though he wanted to hug her so bad he could taste it.

Christine on the other hand, despite the wine, was sweaty of palm, racing of heart and absorbing every word from the object of her past and current affection. The fact that Rick had finally acted on a plan, and was seeking out his dream was enough for her to reconsider her decision to write him off.

The law firm and the prospect of being Mrs Dave Thomas had suddenly taken a back seat to the life she had materialising before her. This was the Rick Bowden she had put her faith in all those years ago. His metamorphosis was almost as exciting as the prospect of a life full of dream-seeking with him. And, like Rick, her whole life had taken a turnaround in a matter of hours.

A week later when the emotion had not subsided any amount, she knew exactly what she should do. Still dazed and sitting at her desk, she was dragged into the real world by the buzzing of her phone.

“Thomas, Wilson and Charles Legal, Christine speaking how can I help you?” The greeting was automatic now.

“Good morning my name is Rick Bowden,” The flush flowed through her body in a wave.

Well, what do you know. The planets remained in alignment and the Universe has kicked in. The owner accepted my renewed offer and we have (verbally) agreed on the sale. Given a lack of bad luck or issues, Ruby Tuesday is all ours.

Still hasn't kicked in, but a good feeling is in place. One or two challenges in the near future (Pen etc.) but nothing is insurmountable when one is working on a Universal Approved project. This is an almost lifelong outcome. Cant see much being done around the house for awhile. May take some time to settle, insure and handover her, but it is a reality (Touch Wood).

Need to put the Sonata on the market and get her a new home. Shouldn't be too hard she is a nice little boat, but the market sucks at the mo. Talk soon, when I have something of essence to add.