Life Abroad Charlie Girl IV 2017 (7)
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Wednesday October 18th to Wednesday November 1st

After a leisurely breakfast taken under the historic 120 years old plane tree in the main square we prepared CGIV for an easy sail the 8nms south to Methoni in the forecast N'ly F3. But the Day gremlin associated with Pilos that had caused them to be stuck there for as much as two weeks in the past, struck again and we found ourselves motoring into a southerly F2.

We anchored in Methoni bay for lunch but I had already decided that the planned two night stay would now be unwise. Showing Jan round the fortified peninsula that made Methoni such an important spot in the days of sail trading ships would have to wait for another day, another year even, if she really wished to to continue that is, and I have my doubts.

This sort of forecast inaccuracy is unsettling when you know the weather is set to adversely change. “Move on Richard” was foremost in my mind. “Get down to Crete asap, particularly as Jan is now talking about flying home earlier than planned.” After a little research I decided we should motor round to Korsoni and anchor there for the night before setting off south for Ak Tairon, the southern-most cape of the Greek mainland and notorious with its sister cape 30nms to her east for foul weather and difficult roundings. If the weather remained benign we may even be able to make it the 66nms to Kapsali on the south coast of the island of Kithera and thereby be just one day away from somewhere at the western end of Crete.

And so it was after a lovely evening anchored off Korsoni town and desperately boring long day's motoring, just 3nms were sailed, we safely made it to Kapsali where a well-earned days rest was taken during which constant, almost hourly, checks were made on the weather. It was changing by the hour which added to the unsettled feelings.


The season is effectively over and we were the only boat on the quay in Kapsali and close to the only visiting folk at all. Thus all but one bar and one taverana were either shut, open but not serving food, or trying for late night drinkers by opening at 21.00. We ate in the only open taverna whose owner, surprisingly, spoke little English as Kapsali is a place with a strong British history and is a regular haunt of some hardy British holidaymakers. He was charming even though he could get nothing right but the food was good and very reasonably priced so we returned there for breakfast, ordering bacon and fried eggs with coffee. The coffee came and went but after half an hour I went to the loo and noticed the kitchen was in darkness. There would be no breakfast though it may turn up at lunchtime, if and when the cook arrives. We smilingly paid for our coffee and left.

Since my last visit a new supermarket as opened as part of a small hotel complex; it even had some stock which its predecessor across the road rarely had, other than its green grocery and locally made jams, wines preserves and the like. Having had a look round we asked the owner if he could get us a taxi as the marked out taxi rank was devoid of taxis. On the phone he went and after two or three calls he tried to tell us the result but couldn't as he spoke little if any English; another surprise. He wrote in Greek style 70,40 which I realised was 10.40, just ten minutes away.

He asked a few more unintelligible questions and finally led us outside to their seating area where he had been taking his morning coffee with an old friend and his wife; the old friend spoke English as he had spent some time in London where his Son now lives and works. Meanwhile the owner comes out with a box of biscuits and offers us one saying “Kithera” which presumably meant locally made; breakfast at last! In Greek custom it would have been rude to refuse so we graciously ate a couple of his proffered biscuits. Shortly afterwards a Mercedes taxi arrived driven by a cheery, plump, middle-aged lady who kindly drove us the 2kms up to the Chora known as, Kithera.

My intention was to find a hotel where Charlie and I had enjoyed a couple of fabulous continental breakfasts. It had been taken over by a couple of French gay chaps who had poured money into tastefully renovating and stylising a lovely old building that sits on many levels as it is built into the hillside and which had fabulous balconies with views off out to sea. Their food was all self-made; breads, jams, pickles, mixed fruits, pate, eggs in fact anything they could grow or buy locally and convert. We found the hotel and found one of the Frenchmen, looking decidedly older than my memory said he would be, hoovering one of the staircase carpets. I enquired about breakfast only to be told they were now closed for the season; a sad but not surprising disappointment, after all it was the third week in October.

So we trudged gingerly back up the narrow stone paved street towards the town square just before which we had noticed a nicely appointed modern cafe bar with the obligatory for here, balcony with a view. We tried the balcony but the morning breeze was a little too chilly so inside we went. Being his only customers we wondered whether any of his menu would be available but it was so two crepes were ordered, one sweet with honey and bananas for Jan and one savoury with ham, cheese, tomato and mayonnaise for me. They were delicious and were afterwards washed down with two glasses of freshly pressed orange juice that tasted very local indeed, positively so.

I decided to give the walk up to the fort a try, not really expecting to be able to make it but make it we did and looked over the battlements to the harbour 600m (2,000') below us (see photo). The dot in the middle of the photo is CGIV laid alongside the quay.

The stone paving is as it was originally, made with relatively flat rocks rather than slab marble and was thus dangerous for me to traverse; progress was thus exceedingly slow. There was nobody else up here and surprisingly the display museum, a converted chapel, was open with one very bored looking young lady manning it; I think she was as surprised to see us walk through her door as we were to find her there. A note by the visitors book requested donations of €2 each which I duly paid whilst Jan picked up one of the provided books full of pictures and descriptions from which she read out the salient parts, a lot of which involved the British occupation as well as that of the Russians in the 19th Century and the Turks and Venetians before that.

Jan wondered about finding a taxi to get back down to Kapsali. I pointed out that the walk back to the town square was about half the distance back down to Kapsali and I was fairly sure I remembered a windy route from the fort's entrance through the outskirts of Kithera that would cross the road half way down the hill. And so it was we walked all the way back down, stopping once we reached the Andra Pandra bar where the lady kindly served up two glasses of medicinal wine whilst I put my seriously aching foot up and we, again, checked the weather.

That evening we ended up back in the same taverna as he appeared to be the only one serving food. We ordered two spaghetti bolognese, wishing to keep it simple, whilst I again checked the weather. Yes, the forecast for the middle of the next week was concerning me as was the fact that the pressure had been so high for so long and the weather unusually benign for October. These things have a habit of balancing themselves out, sometimes dramatically, over time and the pressure was set to drop, dramatically. “Sorry Sir, no meat sauce?” our sweet owner then tells us. We went for the very good carbonara.

Despite the fact there was likely to be no wind at all, I decided we would head for Chania back on Crete in the morning, Saturday, not Sunday or Monday as was first thought. That was made slightly more complicated by two charter yachts that had appeared earlier in the afternoon and the first moored up so close to our bows I had no manoeuvring room, and, despite the forecast, the wind had veered from westerly to north-westerly and strengthened resulting in all three yacht being pinned very firmly against the quay.

The alarm was set for 06.00 and to bed we went, me slightly nervous about our prospects in leaving by 06.30 and the continuing strong wind blowing.


I needn't of worried; the wind did drop during the night and at 06.25 we slipped our lines, packed them and the fenders away and crept out of the harbour and bay struggling to see anything at all in the pitch black night until my night vision kicked in and the faint outline of the rocks and coastline showed up as black on the dark grey of the sea. The throttle was opened and the course of 123° magnetic set for Chania 64nms to our south-east.

As we cleared the bay we felt the surge of a not inconsiderable swell coming in from the west-north-west and causing CGIV to roll quite badly. That was concerning as diesel bug in the fuel tank had four times before blocked the fuel line and stopped the engine, a fixable problem but one that takes a couple of hours whilst you drift, broadside on to the swell and roll even more. It is the rolling that causes any sludge to rise off the bottom of the tank and plonk itself on the outlet, particularly when the tank is less than half full which we now were. Catch twenty-two again. I wanted to arrive in Aghios Nikolaos with a near to empty tank so that Udo could cut a hole in the tank, fit the access plate I had bought, empty the tank and clean it out.

Whilst there was little or no wind whatsoever, the mainsail was deployed to reduce the roll, which it did whilst, for the next four hours we motored on with me just waiting to hear that awful groaning sound the engine makes as it is starved of fuel. As we approached and passed the island of Andi Kithera the sea steadily reduced until as we left the island astern it became as near flat as the open sea ever is. There was no wind. It was going to be another long, boring day's motoring that was brightened up briefly by a pod of pilot whales swimming past our stern, the first I have ever seen.

Good time was made with a good 1 knot of current running in the channel between Andi Kithera and Crete's north-western tip helping to push us along. Thus the 64nms were completed half an hour earlier than expected with us mooring up in Chania's quaint and historic harbour at just on 16.00 hours. My feelings of relief were palpable.

The expectation was to spend up to week in Chania waiting for the bad weather and adverse winds to pass through. The bikes were going to be needed. Unfortunately the hinge bolt on one of them had snapped just before leaving Pilos. It was not going to be easy to replace but was a priority to search for on Monday morning; Sunday would just have to managed without them.

We were moored up right outside what is now a very large taverna. Since the last visit it has absorbed the two either side of it and on Saturday evening it was packed to the gunwales and traditional Cretan music was being played by a local live group. They were very good indeed and kept us noisily entertained until midnight after we had enjoyed a rather expensive traditional Greek meal in an Italian style restaurant with a couple of glasses of Prosecco, of course (see photo).

Despite the steadily falling pressure Sunday was forecast as bright, sunny and warm and it was. A long walk round and though the numerous backstreets of Chania's charming, historic and well-maintained Old Town enchanted Jan and was followed by an English breakfast taken in one of the numerous harbour front tavernas. The enjoyment was marred by Jan again raising the subject of flying home a week early “we will only be socialising that week, won’t we? She said. “Isn’t that what couples do?” I thought to myself.

The rest of the day was spent cooking some supper dishes and tackling some of the jobs to be done in preparation of CGIV for a winter in the water as there is no space left ashore, or so we have been informed at the moment. New mooring warps had their ends eye spliced and some older but still good ones had a metal eye spliced on the end to couple them to the coil spring and chains of the main mooring lines. It is always a fulfilling therapeutic pastime that gives me great satisfaction as well as saving a fair amount of money.

Monday morning saw us up sharp and collecting together all the washing which we then took to a new self-service laundry. Jan stayed to deal with that whilst I rode off on the one good bike to track down the chandlery the Port Authority manager had given me the card of; despite the map on the card and me knowing Chania quite well it took me a long time to find it, buried as it was in the remnants of the fortified town's old moat much of which is now occupied by buildings. But find it I did and the very helpful owner disappeared into the darkness of his extensive stores to reappear a few minutes later with two perfectly matching bolts and locking nuts. I parted with the princely sum of €1.20 and scuttled of back the boat to try one out. Success! Now there are two working bikes to help pass the expected week in Chania.

For the third time that morning I checked the weather forecasts and got a surprise; no thunderstorms were forecast for Rethymnon 30nms further east with little rain to boot whereas Chania was set to receive both in Spades starting Monday evening and running right through to Friday morning with considerable rainfall, particularly on Thursday. A snap decision was made to leave and run round to Rethymnon. Jan scuttled off to buy some bread whilst I shot down, on my bike of course, to the Port Authority, paid our dues and then recovered our shore power cable.

By 12.30 we were leaving the harbour and heading Nor-nor-east in a stiff F5 breeze and a two metre sea to round the Souda peninsula that projects several miles from the general coastline and then heading due east before dropping down south-east across Rethymnon bay. We were sailing it on Genoa alone and making between 7 and 8 knots. Sadly that only lasted for 14nms until the wind died and then came in from the east-south-east more or less the course we were steering by then so it was 'on the nose'. The last hour had me wondering on the advisability of the change of plan as the wind steadily rose to over 25 knots (30mph) with a sea to match; “mooring up in Rethymnon could be a nightmare” I thought. But it wasn't as we were able back into the wind and were helped to moor up on a pontoon by our neighbour from Chania, Renee who had set off an hour before us.

Whilst not entirely essential, bikes are great help here as the marina, such as it is, is a fair walk or ride from the Old Town where most of the character of the place resides. Thus we rode in for supper and were happily tucking into a Moussaka and a beef Stifado when – it rained! So much for Weather On Line's forecasting. By the time we had eaten the rain had passed on and we rode home in the dry.

Again it looked as if we were going to be stuck here for some days whilst the pressure recovered and adverse weather and winds blew themselves out. But we were to see little of it. In that regard Weather On Line had been right.

Both Tuesday and Wednesday were pretty nice days; a little cloudy at times but generally sunny and relatively warm. On Wednesday morning we made the effort to ride up to the Fort perched as it is on the headland under which the original Venetian port lies and the modern port was built to surround. It was pretty disappointing and not a patch on the one at Pilos. Information about the various buildings and the places history was sparse and incomplete and most of the buildings that have been renovated or preserved were inaccessible.


Wednesday evening brought the second email in a month advising me that one of my Midas colleagues had died. The first was Roger Tucker from heart failure which was not a real surprise as he had been living on borrowed time since his departure 25 years ago after a heart attack in service. He was my age. The second was David Ewing, five years my junior, who somewhat like Charlie had a body from hell, failings in which plagued his life but which he stalwartly fought as did she. Cancer finally caught up with him and he died on Tuesday October 24th in Rowcroft. Somehow that news brought all of Charlie's final years flooding back; not a good feeling at all. I was tearful, down and not a little depressed. Jan was very understanding and caring. I did not sleep well that night, not just because of David’s death but because I struggled to reconcile Jan’s caring attitude that evening with her desire to leave me and go home early.


Thunderstorms rattled round the sky over the surrounding mountains and to seaward, on Wednesday night for the whole of the night, but rarely came near us. But on Thursday morning they hit; big time. We escaped from the yacht before they broke and enjoyed a sumptuous breakfast whilst torrential rain bucketed down. My typically English breakfast wasn't though. Baked beans were on the menu but a small dish of cold kidney beans, straight out of a tin, were served with my otherwise very well prepared, fried eggs, bacon, ham and toast; the tomato was a cold slice, not the fried half I expected. Three hours were spent in Cul De Sac, the weird breakfast bar whilst the worst of the storms blew through then we returned to the boat.

Something odd has occurred with the plastics covered safety rails and the stainless steel work. The safety rails have a very sticky substance on them and the s/s quickly returned to being stained after cleaning. In between the continuing showers I busied myself with removing the sticky mess from the rails with the use of a scourer and that wonderful cleaning agent, Astonish. What should have taken five minutes with a wet cloth took nearer two hours.

Meanwhile Jan read her umpteenth book from the collection held on board, having originally said there was nothing in the collection that took her fancy; boredom has the strangest of effects. She could have tackled some jobs but seemed disinclined to help.

We survived the day whilst the wind howled around us and the rain beat down. Not everybody found the conditions trying; two chaps welcomed the 30+mph wind and big seas the perfect scenario for a bit of fun. I tried for ages to catch them flying 20-30' above the waves but never quite managed it (see photo). If that pastime had been around 50 years ago, yours truly would have been up for it!


Friday October 27th was supposed to be a day when we would hire a car and drive to Knossos, principally because, whilst the wind would be good to move on, the seas would still be huge and uncomfortable, particularly for Jan. But Jan's behaviour changed that plan in an instant. At the time I described it as being childish, arrogant defiance and still see it that way. As she knew and everyone knows you never, ever, deposit poo in a harbour, marina or bay. Not only is it contrary to marine law in most countries it is also ecologically and environmentally unacceptable. That is why yachts are fitted with at least one loo that discharges into a holding tank, not direct into the sea. CGIV has one, off the saloon, and her master cabin loo which does discharge direct into the sea and is thus 'off limits' whilst in port etc. Jan knew all this and had been reminded from time to time.

On a couple of occasions I suspected that she was ignoring that 'law'. In Chania a few days ago I was sure from the state the loo was left in but said nothing putting it down to a mistake, an accident. When it happened again I reminded her; she lied saying it was an accident. I say lied, like a child would, because the following day she did it again in Rethymnon. This time I was a little firmer, pointing out that I did not want the Port Police fining me a thousand Euros because she cannot plan her poos. “If in doubt, use the saloon loo then there can be no accidents, just as I do every morning” I said. Imagine my shock on Friday morning when I hear her go to the master cabin loo and see the poo happily floating down the side of the yacht and being pinned against the pontoon for all to see, including the marinero who walks along each morning to check what boats have arrived or left and that 'all is in order'. That was the fourth time in as many days. I exploded with anger, asked her to scoop up her deposit before someone saw it and got even angrier when she refused.

It is fair to say at this point that I had already reached a conclusion that the relationship was likely to fail. It is my belief that for a real relationship to succeed both have to see the other person as the most important person in their life; it was quite clear to me that Jan was never going to see me in that light and, I had changed her flight to bring forward a week as she had asked.

Thus after a couple of minutes reflection I asked her to leave, now, immediately. “There are dozens of hotels. Book into one. I told you that on a yacht things are different. There is only one skipper and his word is law. If I cannot trust you to obey a simple rule like which loo to use when, how can I trust you at all?” She panicked and demanded my flight booking details. I obviously was not going to let her into my EasyJet account and said. “No, you only need the boarding pass and I will email that to you. Be gone by the time I get back”. She wanted to come with me, presumably mistrusting me. I went alone, into town, the long way round on my bike, whilst I cooled down a bit. Coffee and fresh orange juice whilst checking the weather forecasts and emailing Jan her Boarding Pass, soon had me thinking normally. I had been unnecessarily abrupt and ungentlemanly but that changed nothing; the decision was right.

Then I reflected on the weather forecasts. If I was to stay in Rethymnon today and leave on Saturday, as planned, then there was a serious risk of ending up in very bad weather if we did not make it the whole 80nms to Aghios Nikolaos and, there was nowhere near enough diesel in the tank to motor that far. The option was almost another week in Rethymnon or go now. I opted for the latter, packed my bag and headed into town to find a butcher to buy a pork chop for Sunday's BBQ with Tony & Tessa and, more important, buy a diesel can and fill it up. Both were achieved and me back on board by 11.00. Jan was nowhere to be seen; she had used every plastic bag on the yacht to pack the belongings she had confidently assured me would fit in her bag when I changed her flight and thus had not booked a hold bag.

The fuel was added to the tank, all the usual preparations for leaving harbour made and I was away by midday into a very lively sea which immediately had me worrying about engine failure should that stir up the sludge in the bottom of the tank and it block the outlet. I needed to sail and did, making a good 7 knots to start with, pretty close-hauled heading broadly north-east in the strong F4 northerly wind. Even with the leeway CGIV was making in the two metre sea, we should clear the eastern headland of Rethymnon Bay 10nms to our east and did. A reef was taken in the mainsail and off we then went more or less due east heading for Nisos Dhia where I intended to anchor for the night. Of course the wind dramatically reduced and backed to westerly so the second half of the journey was nervously motored but the target reached at dusk.

The anchor was carefully deployed and thoroughly tested as, whilst the wind was coming off the land as I laid it, the forecast suggested it would go right round to southerly during the night which would turn CGIV round and back her towards the shore. Hopefully the wind would not be sufficient to produce undue swell.

It was quite mild, still 20°C, so my supper of pre-prepared Chilli con Carne and rice was munched with great enthusiasm as I had not eaten all day and duly washed down with a couple of glasses of wine. But I was exhausted, partly through the morning’s drama, shopping on a damaged ankle and partly from the energetic sail; I was abed by 20.30.

It was a restless night with the anchor alarm going off ten times as the wind constantly changed from north-west to south and CGIV swung round accordingly covering total of 3.5 miles according to the anchor alarm; each time I clambered, naked, out of my bed and up on deck just to make sure we were safe. By 06.30 I had either had enough of that or not enough sleep, I am not sure which but I dressed, weighed anchor and headed for Aghios Nikolaos in a very nice southerly breeze and, more important, an almost calm sea. I sailed to within 5nms of the infamous Ak Ioannis where the wind generally increases dramatically as does the sea. Today the opposite occurred; the wind dropped to almost nothing and the sea remained calm (see photo) causing me to motor the rest of the journey.

Thus as I rounded the cape and entered Ormos Merambellou and headed the last 10nms down to Aghios Nikolas; much thinking and reflection was done.

Strangely I have always loved this last few miles at the end of the season; Charlie never did and often cried, knowing that we were to put Our Girl to bed, return home and not see her again for five months or more. For me, it is a beautiful bay surrounded as it is by Crete's majestic mountains and peppered with striking chunks of rock allegedly thrown here by the gods many aeons ago that encompass the now world famous bay and peninsula of Spinalongha, made more famous still by Victoria Hislop's book, The Island.

I had a warm feeling in my heart and spoke out loud to my girl, Charlie, reflecting on the happy times we had together and wondering if I will ever find someone to share this wonderful life that I am still oh so fortunate to have.

But hey, jobs must be done! The holding tank must be emptied in deep water and flushed through with copious quantities of water, seawater, to ensure it survives the winter without clogging up. That done, CGIV was prepared for port for the final time this year. As I entered the marina, Charley, one of the original marinero's greeted me from the refuelling quay and then rushed round to our berth, B12, to help me in. CGIV slid into her berth like a hand into a well-tailored glove, sliding past the yachts either side without them realising she was there until we were right in and I was fixing the two lazy lines and putting the passerelle on to get ashore. More permanent mooring lines and coil springs will be added over the next week.

It was good to be back albeit, sadly, alone once again.


Sunday was quiet; Kingeight provided breakfast in the form of a very nice fluffy omelette with half-decent bacon whilst I caught up on emails. Then it was BBQ time with Tony & Tess and Tessa's daughter, husband and son plus Jerry and Caz. Jerry was looking very happy having recently had his hip replaced and being without pain and discomfort for the first time in a long while.

After a post BBQ zizz, an old Ag Nik habit, I dressed and wandered up to the Sports Bar to join what I expected to be a crowd of fellow expats, mainly Brits, to watch the Mexican Grand Prix. The Sports Bar has really been modernised thereby losing its previously seedy and smoky atmosphere and is now a much more acceptable venue for me, snob that I am. I was surprised to find only two fellow Brits there, one of which I knew, the other not.

Wandering across to Kingeight for breakfast and the Internet the following morning and reflecting on the marina and the town the evening before brought me up with a start. They were quiet; less people in general and certainly far fewer Brits. That and Jan surprisingly messaging me telling me she was 'home, safe and sound' (she must have bought a separate flight?), had me checking my EasyJet account and on finding her flight was still showing, questioning why I was to sit here for ten days when I could fly home on Wednesday? After a few checks on whether Stuart could pick me up, I rebooked my flight for November 1st and then started rushing around to get all the 'to bed' jobs done that I could. All the washing was done, dried and ironed my mid-afternoon, the winter mooring lines set up and checked and Udo's Winter Job List prepared and discussed with him. He would be removing, washing, drying and bagging the sails and all the soft rigging that I would have spent a day or two doing myself.

The activity helped as, in truth, I was down and not a little depressed.

Tuesday morning was dull with a threat of rain in the sky; a spirit lifting triple B was called for! (Bad Boy's Breakfast) The best place for that has always been “the Brothers' Taverna” so in there I went, to find myself its only customer; not even the usual gathering of local Greek retired chaps taking coffee, let alone marina residents such as myself, granted I was a little early at 8.30. I ordered the works which generally includes chips as the menu says. I got two hard fried eggs, three rashers of OK bacon and a German sausage, which never quite does it, and baked beans that looked as if they had been heated up for the start of the season and kept warm and mushy ever since; they contained some boiled carrots odd. There were four slices of OK toast but NO chips. Frankly it was close to disgusting and it was not finished; not only that it gave me indigestion, something I never suffer from. Look out Brookside Tea Rooms, I shall be looking to correct this on Thursday morning.

The rest of the day was spent scurrying round preparing to leave; packing away the bikes, dropping the bimini and sprayhood, checking and double tying all the fenders, filling the water tanks and adding 'clean tabs' to ensure no bug growth and then having supper at Sirocco with Udo, enjoying another of their fabulous pizzas (see photo) and his company.





The overall mileage for the Spring trip was 630.4 in 38 days on the move, for the Autumn trip was 1,048.5 in 48 days on the move, overall for the year was 1,678.9 in 86 days on the move plus a total of 35 days in Aghios Nikolaos.

In the round it had been a superb year with some excellent sailing though, upon reflection, the Autumn cruise was too ambitious and too long; perhaps trying too hard to show Jan too much all at one time. Again, on the plus side, it has been drama free; no 16 day period waiting for the weather to improve so we could leave Crete, no failed fresh water pump to keep us trapped on Tinos for two weeks, no freak thunder storms or lightning strikes to damage The Girl, all of which happened in 2015 and 2016 to spoil those year's cruises.

Whilst I will continue to have reservations about continuing alone, 2017's good points has proved a few things to me:-

*Spring is the best time, maybe starting in early April and running until late June

*The Autumn cruise should have started in August and terminated before the clocks go back as the ex-pat life on the marina is not what it used to be in late October, neither, would it seem, is the late October weather if this year is anything to go by.

*Charlie Girl stills stirs my soul, gives me joy and excitement and keeps me fit!

*Sailing is in my blood and is a drug I would struggle to live without.

Now I need to concentrate my energies over the winter in finding someone to share the passion with me, or folk who would like to dip in and out for a few weeks. I have already suggested to my three Son's that a Boys' Week together is long overdue.

Watch this space!!

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