summertime goes south

At last, the first blog of summer. Saint Florent turned out to be a little more exposed than we bargained for. Alex, who lives on board a boat in the harbour with his family, befriended us in St Flo. He sent a text on 8th March (Linda's birthday) first saying that Summertime had weathered a big storm without damage, but on closer inspection found that was not the case. He sent pictures of hull damage caused by an adjacent boat which broke free from it's bow mooring line. Horror picture attached. It has taken until today for the repairs to be finished so as in past years, we are much later setting off than anticipated.
I spent time in St Flo to try and keep the pressure on to speed the repairs, which meant I had to sleep on the boat when she was out of the water. This lonely sojourn meant I met a number of fellow sailors, who proved friendly and helpful despite my French. Alex also introduced me to a number of locals. Eccentricity is universal, there was 'Capitaine Haddock' (I never found out his real name), who named his boat after the Tintin character and is an avid fan of Hergé, British luxury cars and gentleman's clubs. His English is very good and he is fascinated by all things British. He was disappointed to find out I was not a member of any London club. I met a solo sailor from Normandy, who was very helpful despite his English being about the same level as my French, making small talk difficult. His hobby, other than sailing, was evidenced by his purple proboscis which Leo McKern would have envied!
Despite being on nodding terms with a number of the locals, I have tired of St Flo.
We have retraced our steps to Calvi, where we are to meet our kidney buddies Pete and Sue, who are touring the island.
During my visits to check on progress I took the opportunity to tour the interior by car. There are some spectacular mountain drives and hair-raising roads. Unusual hazards include herds of goats using the highway, cows occupying the middle of the road and pigs basking on the warm tarmac as well as blind corners and sheer cliffs. The more I see of the island the more it appeals.
I was initially surprised by the lack of exploitation of Corsica's link to Napoleon. Unlike Elba where Napoleon is everywhere, the island of his birth seems to ignore him, although when we get to Ajaccio, his home town, things might be different. Corsican nationalists see Napoleon as a traitor. He sided with Revolutionary France rather than the fledgling Anglo-Corsican Republic of 1794-5 led by Pascal Paoli with British support. Napoleon had to escape as a fugitive to France in 1794, subsequently the Revolutionary army defeated Paoli, ending the island's second brief period of independence. There are many streets and squares named after Paoli, the national hero but few commemorating Napoleon Bonaparte and I have not yet found any statue of Bonaparte. Paoli died in exile in London in 1807.
We left St Flo at 8.30 in flat calm and during the morning a swell and sea breeze kicked in. We stopped for lunch outside Ile Rousse but the swell meant the boat rolled uncomfortably. We left for Calvi after a very short lunch and made good time under the genny with the breeze briefly touching 17 knots before dying away under the lee of the port citadel. Great to be underway again!