We'd hardly touched down when the Wonder Dog and I were drawn to the harbour. There's something irresistible about all those boats parked up, and bobbing around on the swell. I love, love, love the harbour. It's a strange, illogical thing this love affair of mine. I'm a rubbish sailor - always sea-sick, but I hanker after this place, and all these lovely boats that I have no desire to ever board and sail away on.
I love the sound of the rigging singing in the breeze. I love the salty smell of the sea. I love the great, big gulls circling overhead, their mournful cries punctuated by the soft percussion of the waves.
I love all the busy paraphernalia of fishing that lies around the quayside, stacked up in crates for next time. On quiet afternoons I love how the fishermen sit together in cosy groups, gossiping and mending their nets. I love how their hands fly back and forth whilst they chat and their eyes travel far out to sea following the trajectory of their thoughts. I love how they know what they're doing without having to watch.
I love how busy this place is. There are fishing boats, large and small, parked up and tour boats waiting for summer to come again. I love how they each have their purpose and do their thing to earn a living for this dear little village of mine. I care a great deal more for them than the millionaire's toys that get parked in the seriously big boats' line at the end of the breakwater in the summer season.
I love the boatyard, where there's usually a cacophony of radio static, pop music, hammering, and raised voices, shouting to be heard over everything else. It's quiet now because of the holidays. But there are a couple of deep hulled boats berthed in the dry dock waiting for January to call everyone back to work. I love how people hereabouts have been fixing boats for generations. The soundtrack may have changed. In the old days they probably sang habaneras as they worked rather than listening to the hit parade, and they no doubt banged their hammers with a lot more gusto than they've done since the advent of power tools.
And I love how this place never changes, yet always has something different to show us every time we wander down.
It's good to be home.
All the best for now,