Unless you count the band. Then it's been anything but. Six gigs in October, quieter than the eight gigs we had in September, but it still left very little time for anything else outside of work.
Dad and I did manage to get out of harbour for a day. Actually, thinking about it, that wasn't October, but rather the last weekend of September. A gig free weekend, we'd hoped to sail over to Fowey. But the forecast for the Sunday was grim; far to rough for us to consider sailing back in, which meant that any sailing was going to be limited to the Saturday only, as I needed to be back in the office for the Monday.
So we stayed on the boat for the weekend and took a couple of friends, Dan and Justin, out sight-seeing on the Saturday. In deep contrast to the Sunday forecast, it was a flat calm, so we put the main up just to remind ourselves we were really a sailboat, but otherwise motored the eight miles or so out to the Eddystone light, which proved to be quite a popular spot in the calm weather.
Happily, the wind filled in a little towards the end of the day. Dad muttered something about having had enough and supper calling, but with our two guests aboard he lost the popular vote, so we silenced the engine and had a very enjoyable couple of hours sailing back and forth across the Sound, just for the hell of it, before we returned to the marina.
That was the last time I managed to get Petrella out of her berth. We've been down a couple of times since to check on her, but haven't had time to actually sail.
In part because Dad's damaged himself. Some time around the beginning of October, probably gardening. He has a stubborn talent for disregarding the physical limits of his body, and we think he managed to pull something. Subsequently, he's been in a lot of pain and next to immobilised the last few weeks. He's improved a little, but he's still walking only with the aid of a stick, stooped over and in significant discomfort.
That aside, we're still hoping to take Petrella out west to Fowey and back again on my next weekend off, which is in a couple of weeks time. It will, of course, be very dependent upon the weather. Which is flat calm again at the moment, but always very changeable at this time of year.
In other news, my daughter and the grandchildren move out this week. Probably tomorrow. For reasons I completely understand. But, for reasons it would be indiscrete and inappropriate for me to fully explore here, Nik and I are deeply unhappy and more than a little distressed by the situation. In part, because of the timing, it's too quick and too soon. But mostly because of distance.
The twins are just a little over six months old now, and thriving. After all the stress and trauma of their early weeks, they've been an absolute joy to have in the house, to watch how they've developed and grown.
Arguing that it's the only place they can afford to rent, Tash and her new boyfriend are moving with our grandchildren to a place called Tonypandy. A Welsh town, a little outside of Swansea. I'm sure it's lovely, but the fact remains that it's eighty miles away. A two hour drive away from her nearest friends and family.
Whatever twist I put on it, whatever reassurances Tash or her boyfriend try to give, I find that distance, and everything it means that Nik and I will miss out on in the coming months and potentially years of our grandchildren's lives, quite heart breaking.
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