… for tempting fate, I guess.  To talk brazenly of only the watermaker holding us back now, was surely asking for trouble. And sure enough, trouble didn’t take long to raise its ugly head.

Today, anxious to get everything as ready as possible, we motored over to the fuelling dock and filled with diesel to the top. If we’re being honest, it wasn’t only to prepare for departure. For despite assurances that the new diesel tank lids, specially made on the advice of our surveyor, had been fully checked and couldn’t/wouldn’t  leak – we weren’t entirely confident.  Time and again, we’ve found the only real assurance is to put everything to the test for ourselves and prove the point one way or the other.  But there have been so many other issues to distract us, this one got overlooked for a while. So today, we decided to check them out and not leave it one moment later. A quick job to fill up, and once back at our mooring, we eagerly checked everything out and found, with sinking hearts, a slow but steady seeping from one of the starboard diesel lids.  One suggestion was the problem has been caused by diesel-compatible sealant being applied, then a stainless steel lid fitted and tightly screwed down, before the sealant had a chance to cure.  Doing so probably pushes the sealant outwards so making it thinner – and less likely to provide a tight seal. If allowed to cure, then it will act as a gasket with no thickness lost.  Well, that’s the theory.  At all events, much urgent phone-work all round to ensure measures are taken to remedy the problem toute suite.

No sign of the new watermaker – though some talk of it in transit to Durban.  Talk is fine, but TIA means nothing can be taken for granted. Fingers knotted it shows up tomorrow.

Ian and Dick checked both engines over thoroughly – all looking good. Also, tested that we have the facility to start the engines off the house batteries in case of engine battery failure. All good there, too.

Colin, bless him, called by today to share a beer (Colin runs a sailing school here in Durban), and offered to lend us a hi-pressure hose unit to douse the mainsail – it’s filthy already, a tired looking thing thanks to Durban dirt’s sooty-black, glue-like properties.  I know I’ve mentioned this wretched phenomenon many times, but it’s a real downer. It pours from the sky, floats on the breeze and no amount of scrubbing and cleaning ever banishes it for more than a few minutes. What it does to the lungs just doesn’t bear thinking about.

Other than that, much buggering about, as always with boats – a trip to the laundrette, again in readiness for sailing, and inevitably much scrutiny of weather charts and forecasts and synoptics. And all the while, all too aware that today would indeed have been a fine day to slip the mooring and head for St Francis -  safely and with an easy day’s sailing guaranteed tomorrow. Of course, outwardly, everybody is being terribly philosophical about it- what else can you do? – but  underneath, I don’t think there’s one of us – Dick, I, Ibby and Ian – who aren’t silently chewing over the frustrations of  it all and wondering how many other weather windows will come and go before we can finally set sail,  leaks and bloody watermakers permitting.

Heigh-ho. One day. One  fine day …