We really thought the Portuguese had it nailed when it comes to laying lobster pots but compared to the New Englanders, they're amateurs.

Not content with having pot floats littering the sea they seem to have this theory that the best fishing is in the channels or around turning points. Up 10. Back 10. Up 20. Back 20.... until in the end you give up weaving around like Mutley in a high speed chase and just close your eyes and bash on through trusting to a long keel and a rope cutter.

All that dodging got us to Gloucester. Or Glow (as in "ow" that really hurt) Sester which is how the locals pronounce it.

Planning to only anchor off, sleep and leave we settled down for a movie night on the cockpit.

Twenty minutes later....."Hi, just thought I'd say hello. Lovely boat".

"Thank you" we replied and having noticed an accent commented that the owner of the voice was from out of town etc. etc....

"From Northern Ireland, 45 years ago" etc... etc...

"But we lived all our working life outside Boston in a place called.....Wayland. (Our home for four years).

"I've sailed a bit around the west coast of Scotland" etc... etc...

"I sail with a friend that lives in a small village called..." Yes, you guessed, our home town, Bridge of Allan.

So, for the first time in a while Pat and Huw's Bushmills was looked out and we talked until Roy finally gave in and invited us ashore for breakfast!

We retired to bed to be woken around midnight by a phone call from an extremely well composed son-in-law, Barry to tell us that baby Matthew had just arrived in Cardiff to join his wee cousin Freya in the growing grand childrens little league.

Double GP's in the space of a few months. All well etc... etc... GP's delighted.

And so, after a night of light sleep (Anne jumping around) we took up our invite to brekkie.

Roy snd Shelagh live smack on the waterfront in a beautiful, period gatehouse from an 1888 project to recreate Newport's "cottage" society in Gloucester.

Joining us for breakfast was their friend Colin who had driven all the way from Wayland to say hello to some fellow Scotsmen and see if we knew of any of his west coast and BofA friends (John Knox, Sandy Miller in Westerton Avenue)

Roy and Shelagh gave us a tour around the town and up to Rockport. Both old favourite haunts of ours.

We finally parted about 2pm and headed off to catch the breeze to whistle us further north bound for Isle of Shoals or maybe Portsmouth.