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Thursday 13 Feb – realised the clocks should have been set back an hour as

we left yesterday as the CV's like the Canaries have warped the time zone to

suit their own needs so we are actually in UT-2. Will sort it out later this

afternoon, tomorrows noon to noon run will be 25 hours. At noon the 24 hour

run was 179nm. The wind was still north easterly and up and down F4-5 with

occasional periods of F6 gusting 7. The crew were getting used to the

motion, very different from the trip down from the Canaries. Now the seas

are slightly aft of the beam or on the starboard quarter lifting the stern

and tipping her towards the port bow before running underneath and if

surfing allowing the boat to be almost level then the port bow would rise up

and everything would roll back to starboard before starting again. We

resumed our usual habits snoozing either down below or in the cockpit, a

daily wash and tooth clean or reading in between mugs of tea or coffee or

meal times. Joe seems to be able to manage slightly more than one paragraph

of Jezza Clarkson prior to falling asleep, Paul is deep into the theory of

relativity with “Trespassing on Einstein's Lawn”, Kevin is eking out the

penultimate of the Jack Aubrey books whilst I am enjoying a memoire of a

1950's single handed voyage to Malta via the canals of France, Corsica and

Sardinia and finding that nothing much has changed.

A few carrots had to be deep sixed today but apart from the early demise of

an iceberg which attempted a career change as a bowling ball on the galley

floor during the trip down to the CVs resulting in a brown mushy mess and a

few suspect aubergines the fresh provisions are holding up well.

Mid-afternoon with the clocks all set back the wind finally smiled on us

moving east enough for the scrap of genoa to be poled out but it didn't last

and by nightfall both sails were once more on the port side. The third reef

is still in and Temptress is averaging over 7 knots so making good progress

towards our goal though Grenada is a long way off still. No fish but a few

bites that sent some lie reeling out each time, mulling over possible

modifications to Sqiddie, the lurid green 9 inch long plastic lure we've

been towing. Paul found a moderate sized flying fish at the shrouds, very

dead and not big enough to contemplate eating, they are apparently very

bony. All well on board if at times a little damp, it was my turn to be

pooped whilst enjoying the sun on the helmsmans seat behind the wheel,

necessitating a change of underwear as well as trousers and top. The

trousers were dry enough in a couple of hours to be donned again for supper.

Once the sun gets behind the sails or clouds it is still unexpectedly chilly

and overnight the dew soaks everything so oilies still required by the watch

keeper.