Watch out - it's poo thirty!

I have discovered that men on boats talk constantly about poo. Poo jokes galore. You could be talking about existentialism and the subject of poo would turn up. One of the things I learnt is that when you jump off the boat in the morning to take a wake-up swim make sure it's not "poo thirty" - you really don't want to be swimming around when somebody flushes. Conversations along the lines of: I'm going to see if that green curry is still green.... YUK!

This is the face of a man who has just realised that it's that time of day. HAHAHAHAHA.


David, Peter's grandson, was in charge of the bucket (pronounced booket) and sponge jobs on the last trip - him being away meant that Peter was in charge of removing slimy water from the little thingies where you store stuff. This is him stuck in one of those little thingies.

David was known as "Bucket Boy" (sick jokes about cabin boys and buckets of chicken fat there too) but I earnt the name of "toasty girl" as my one and only useful contribution to the whole trip was making toast. It took me a while to understand how to make toast on a boat, as it involves a metal mesh contraption on a gas stove. I looked like a duck that had been given a bicycle for Christmas. Confusion reigns.