I don't know if Marcita's ever been to France before, but she clearly likes it. On the way in to Cherbourg she tried to nuzzle up to a corpulent gin palace, and then tried to flirt with several unsuitable pieces of moored chewing gum before we persuaded her to nestle next to a handsome yawl.
She was frisky after a thrilling night sail across the Channel. As you can see from the photo, leaving Eastbourne she tried to get on the pier to play the slots, but when we got round Beachy Head, we realised that the heading we were on led straight to Cherbourg. And as the sea was calm and the forecast and visibility good we decided to follow her lead and go across, although I'd sworn I wouldn't cross the Channel at night. We had a thrilling sail, reaching in a F4 with hardly a touch on the tiller, with the AIS box showing us the position and course of all the big traffic in the TSS. And although that was followed by a boring slog uptide for the last miles to Cherbourg, the 26 hour passage seemed easy. Certainly by comparison with the first two days.

When we left Pin Mill a week ago, it seemed as if the winds were determined to stop us. We had a SEasterly all the way to Ramsgate, and a SWesterly all the way to Eastbourne, so we were beating and getting soaked all the way. Marcita seemed to think it right to have as much water in the boat as outside it, letting it in through the planking, the hatches and everywhere else, and especially into the diesel tank, necessitating an expensive delay while Mr Volvo spoke kindly words to the engine. The joke on the second day out was when the Lydd range patrol boat told us to keep off the coast as firing was taking place. But we have an ex Royal Artillery man on board so were able to reply that any unwarranted aggression on their part would be met with an overwhelming response. They didn't seem to get the joke.