We were told we might need to leave our buoy. The marina guy came to Quest’s swamp-city to say so. He said we’d find out in the marina office the next day.

Huh. We weren’t expecting that. We only came to Le Marin for a few days. As soon as we did our jobs we were going to clear out to the anchorage St Anne round the corner.

Except school’s started. Suddenly the days are passing like pages. The signal is good here and well, we’re cozy. There’s plenty to get on with.

Problem is, we never booked the buoy in advance. Doofuses! We usually book but didn’t think to this time. Now we’d like to stay for another week and the marina didn’t plan for us. Our bad.

Today we went for showers at lunchtime. Who showers at lunchtime? Answer: cruisers! The showers were surprisingly busy. This was our lunchtime treat: unlimited water without wearing shower shorts. Are we living the dream or what?

The code didn’t work for the showers though. We had to wait for someone to let us in. Timed out of the showers – the old cunning marina trick. This meant we had to face the music.

Bumped into Jack after our showers. He was walking back from the office.

‘They’re still thinking about it,’ he said, shrugging.

‘You told them about the anchor?’

‘Yep. Told them we don’t have one at the moment.’

Strictly speaking, our anchor is perfectly intact. We’re changing our anchor swivel – which connects our anchor to its chain. It keeps catching on the anchor roller when we pull it up. Jack wanted to get the branded one instead of a generic brand. I had to admit to his logic. It’s not one of those things you want breaking.

So, we’re waiting for delivery from St Martin for the swivel. It isn’t exactly a lie.

After we got back to Quest, Jack went off for some more chandlery jobs. A new water container. Our old one got a crack in it. After he left, the marina guys turned up. It was the guy in charge too. A man with minimal bullshit tolerance. I could tell it by the way he called out ‘Quest!’ like a bear.

I ran up to the cockpit.

‘You need to be ready at 4pm so we can come and move you. But first I’m going for lunch.’

My brain ticked. It was just 2pm. Two hours for lunch? Oh yeah, stop thinking. This was France.

Then it hit me. In Las Palmas in Gran Canaria, we persuaded the marina guys to let us stay for a whole extra month.

How? Every time the marina guys came round to chuck more people out of the marina (the ARC rally was coming), we would get one of the girls to present them with a box of cookies.

Cringey, I know. Still, we were one of the last boats to leave in the end. I ran down now and grabbed a box of Breton galettes – the butter cookies popular here. Ran back upstairs.

The marina man came back and moved us at 4pm – and we got an excellent spot. Right near the marina. More traffic around us now, but much quicker to shore.

‘You can stay another week,’ his great bear voice boomed. He even stopped another boat grabbing the buoy just as we were approaching. It’s crazy busy in Le Marin.

We thanked him loads. And said a small, completely coincidental prayer for cookies.