Only another 48 hours until the end of my sentence, Anne gets back and we can get moving again.

San Cristobal was described as a "one week town". After nearly four weeks I can attest to that. Tour the town clockwise, anti-clockwise, up the hill, down the hill and, just for the hell of it, a zig zag through the streets.

The cafe owners now say "hola" to me in the grocery store and a couple of the water taxis have ordered new outboards on the back of my multiple runs ashore.

At times, not only do you forget where you are but how seriously hot Equatorial sun is.

It's therefore necessary to sleep with all the windows and hatches open.

I subjected new pals Michael and Isobel to my latest Masterchef creation, soggy vegetables in pasta with tomato paste squeezed out a tube. Full of anti oxidants apparently. I'm sure they'll help.

Anyway, culinary brilliance aside, I'd hoped a few beers would make sleep come easy in the heat but last night, as with most, I gave up on trying to drown out the noise of the Eco tour boats' generators by sticking my head under a pillow and stuffed in my ear plugs.

An hour later I was woken by what I thought was some idjit shining a searchlight down the hatch. Turned out it was the full moon shining right onto my eyeballs.

Now, a couple of days previously I'd taken our sun screen off the hatch to let the sun in and help the new floor varnish dry. It worked then but in the absence of the cover the moon was blinding. So, if there was any chance of sleep the cover needed to go back on. So, out of bed, up the stairs and along the deck where I could put the cover on.

At the risk of "too much information", as its so hot I tend not to wear my flannelette Paisley patterned jammies. Consequently, I'm sneaking about on deck, in the moonlight at midnight in the buff. (I can hear cries of "Daaaad. Way too much info)...........just as late night revellers from the nearby tour boat putt putt past in their rubber dubber.

"Evenin"

I think I got away with it, unlike the Germans on the boat across from us who strutted around their decks all bleedin' day in the scud fix in' and polishin'. Not a pretty sight.