for later days

I'm just going to park this here to remind me in later days. 

It is a little past midnight. I'm sat alone in the cockpit of "Amore" in the dark, reading on my kindle with a glass of local beer in my hand, moored to a bouy in a sheltered bay on the southern tip of the island of Mijet, off the coast of Croatia in the Adriatic. 

The black sky above is festooned with stars. Dad, Nikki and I ate well earlier in the restaurant ashore that owns our mooring. Eating there was the price of our berth for the night. The peiple were lovely. The tuna was delicious, Dad's a d Nikki's steaks were huge and beautifully cooked. 

I had my tuna tartar, which was a first for me. It was okay, but I found myself not terribly impressed so won't bother with anything tatare again, fish or otherwise. Nikki couldn't finish her steak though, so I helped out.

Everybody else is now asleep below. A balmy wind blows off the shore, caressing my shoulders.

It was a gorgeous sunset. Again. Last night was as gorgeous, if not more so. I can hear the lapping of water about the boat. The surge of the waves back and forth on the near beach to windward.

This feels like peace.

On Friday night we fly home. I am in love with Croatia. But I miss my dogs. And my children. But mostly my dogs.

My children are old enough to look after themselves (and each other) these days.