Ruffian has suddenly developed powers that have been hitherto unseen. As a boat Ruffian is great at crossing oceans and taking Iain and Fiona to sensational places, but now in Bermuda we have also been transported back in time. Bermuda seems to be Britain in the 60's and it's brilliant.

Before fun could be had the never ending jobs list had to be attended to. Chief among the jobs was finding out why our gearbox had developed a nasty clunking noise when going into reverse. Clunking noises are never good and even worse when the inner workings of the gearbox are considered magic.

We sought advice from Bermuda Yacht Services and they asked "What sort of gearbox do you have?" Iain's response of "A white one" set the tone. Things got more technical when the next question was ''Is it planetary or twin shaft?". Things went from bad to worse when Iain said "It's not a planet and yep we have a shaft". Clearly needing technical input an appointment was made.

Back on Ruffian we set about replicating the clunk and just like the Scarlett Pimpernel after a big night out it disappeared. Forward and back we went and we heard nothing apart from the propeller spinning seamlessly one way and then the other. After cancelling the expensive appointment, could this be a Gremlim that would come to bite us in the miles to come? Only time would tell.

With the chores done we could now explore this country which had all the convenience of the new millennium but the aura and virtues of the 1960's. Everyone was charming and everywhere we looked ladies were turned out in frocks, schoolchildren wore impeccable uniforms and the business attire was something that Iain, as a trendsetter wants to try out in London.

In Bermuda if you have a high powered office job, instead of donning full blown stuffy 3 piece suit you simply take a pair of tailored shorts, a waistcoat and finish the ensemble shoes so shiny you have no need for a mirror. If you are particularly dapper you then top the outfit with knee high socks that match your tie and arrive at your meetings of a scooter rather than in a BMW. With Iain dressed like that he'd be sure to wow perspective employers in London town.

Everywhere we looked in Bermuda we were reminded of England. The pedestrian crossings had the same buttons and made the same bleeping noise, phones felt safe enclosed in their little red boxes, the police didn't have guns and felt fully protected by their air of authority and the cars drove on the correct side of the road.

As time went on we became more and more familiar with the busses and so went further afield. Armed with his guidebook and 'Anahata' and 'Flight Plan' in tow Iain acted as tour guide for the day, but this was to be a tour with a difference.

Normally tours take in the islands highlights. Iain's tour managed to take everyone to the delights of the industrial dockyard, followed by the correctional facility and then onto the yellow fever graveyard. These were then eclipsed by the world's smallest bridge and then onto the Bermuda History Museum which remained firmly closed.

Back at the anchorage our little community was growing by the hour and our social engagements were becoming bigger and bigger. The 'Stray Dawgs' had been joined by 'Sea Rose' and 'Hands Across The Sea' who had limped in with a broken boom; and finally 'Halcyon' completed the party. Day after day, drinks were served, expertise swapped and our little community grew into true companionship.

Saying goodbye to this charming island of the past and breaking up our little community was not easy but the forecast was perfect for a fast and furious trip south. Chris Parker gave the go ahead and once again we were ready to head out to sea and prey mercy to Neptune.

A morning not at sea.


What a lovely view after sleep, blessed, sleep.


The 'Stray Dawgs'.


Everything in Bermuda revolves around where the wind is.


Now that ensign has seen some battles.


Hmmm. Yummy. Not your usual Tesco fare.


Iain just needs his helmet and he'll be ready to get 'fired'.


There be fish in them there seas.


Champagne. That must mean that David's engine is now working.


What came first, the cannon or the fire.


Fiona feels at home on a street named after her position.


Nature slowly takes over.


OK. Who stole the roof?


Who needs to sail 1000's of miles to the Caribbean for beaches?


And they are everywhere.


Truly English.