Toilet’s unblocked. Turns out we had some coral growing in our pipes. Major calcification – though not as pretty as the real stuff. That’s sea toilets for you. For the first time, Jack removed the whole toilet pipe and went outside to bash it around. I found this as entertaining as a blockbuster. We have a deep affection for our one functioning toilet. Sailing in colder climes, we had glowing sea water every time we flushed. All blue and sparkly from the glowing phytoplankton.
Next job – to prepare the anchor chain. Jack bought spray paint to spray different colours at different depths of chain. We have to spray, prepare and retract it back into its anchor locker. Next job after – buy a new starter battery. Engine’s coming out of winterisation on Monday and Falco, possibly the world’s most cutie-smile mechanic 😊 is coming onto Quest.
We booked our splash date – the 1st of October. Until then we’ll happily live 3 metres up in the air. Ladder up, ladder down. Need to be careful. Delph takes her time. Only other bother are the bucket runs. We have two green buckets; one for the sink, the other for Questie effluents. It’s all good exercise. Wait, it’s the only exercise at the moment. Oh well. I’ll live with that.
Every once in a while the power goes off in our boat yard stand and re-connects. No problem – except our air-conditioner didn’t like it today. It took a while to notice. We started to slowly melt. Our concentration wavered, boat school dissolved like an antacid. Then Lu went outside.
‘Mum,’ she called back, ‘somehow it’s cooler outside than inside.’
‘Are you sure?’
I went up Quest’s stairs into the cockpit. Instant relief. WTF? The air-con was still working. It was just blowing hot air. Double doofus too – since I’m not normally allowed to adjust the air-conditioning controls. Why? I once broke it up by pressing the buttons too many times and we had a whole weekend on Quest without air-con. For boat-yard Trini living, this was pretty much the pits. Richard had to come on Monday morning. Turns out he’s pretty serious about his air-con.
Jack was out, touring the Chaguaramas chandleries. ‘Um, what time are you coming home?’ I wrote.
‘In about half-an-hour,’ he wrote back. ‘Why, is there a problem?’
‘Nope. No problem. See you then.’
Later, he met Lulu in the yard, walking to the showers. ‘I can’t take it anymore, Dad. I need to get some cool air.’ Phone in hand, she was off.
Delph meanwhile, had set up the fan in her room. She was on her bunk, chillaxing to Neflix. I swear, that child could make herself comfy in hell.
Jack came onboard and instantly stopped. Looked at me.
‘I swear it wasn’t me!’
He called Richard. Then he went outside and reset the actual machine. It worked! In fifteen minutes, Quest was habitable again.
He picked up the remote. ‘You did touch the controls! Look, the temperature has been changed to 70C. Remember what Richard said? You can’t go that low.’
‘I only did that after I figured it wasn’t working. Now, shall we clear Lu’s room?’
So we did. Lu – who doesn’t have her own bedroom at home – finally has space on her bed. In her cabin. Next to two surfboards, a fishing rod, the cockpit cushions and the yellow, life-saving thing you fling out attached to string in a man-overboard situation. That’s the one.