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New Zealand is the most amazing country. If you have never been I would recommend saving up all of your holiday time and money for a year and taking a three week holiday down there. We only had 5 days but I fell in love with the place.  There is beauty there like you will not have seen anywhere else and the people and so genuinely friendly that you leave wishing it was closer to the UK so that a return visit wouldn't be so expensive.  I felt incredible privileged to be there.

I must have already answered the question "what are you going to do next?" about 50 times and I've only been back for a week!  Firstly, my focus is to spend time with my family but on the adventure front there are some exciting ideas in the pipeline. I'm not ready to spill the beans just yet but it's very, very exciting!

With much love and gratitude for your support, 

Debra

-ends-

So here I am in Buenos Aires having joined the crew of the fine yacht Pindar. Following a gruelling first leg from the UK, Team Pindar have bonded closely so, as the new girl, I was very keen to make a good first impression.  I hoped to build relationships quickly and let my crew mates know how committed and enthusiastic I am about this leg by getting stuck in to some serious boat prep.  Unfortunately I did not make quite the first impression I was hoping for!

On my first morning with the crew I created a 5cm tear in my thigh muscle and was hobbling around on crutches before midday!  An overzealous sprint start on a team relay race during a fitness training session was my down fall, literally.  Feeling like the biggest idiot in the world I have been able to do little more than sit around with my leg raised while the crew rush around me, busily trying hard to get everything done in time.  The fact that the only time I got up was to have my photo taken or be filmed (which often required the crew to stop working and clear back of shot) only fed my paranoia that they must think that I am the biggest waste of space in the history of yachting!  Fortunately I am blessed to have joined a very patient and sympathetic crew.

I have spent the majority of this week I.C. of paperwork as it was the only sitting down task on the boat.  It’s a very important job, I’ll have you know!  I know more about New Zealand immigration forms than is healthy for one woman.  In between form filling and chasing the crew for endless signatures I have been visiting a local Argentinean Physiotherapist.  It’s quite an experience, I can tell you.  Never again shall I complain about the NHS.  My friendly Physio didn’t quite seem to get the concept of hygiene and continually coughed while having both hands working on my thigh and therefore not leaving one free to catch the spray that shot from his mouth with each cough.

But now for the really terrifying news... Those of you who have followed my adventures since the Atlantic row will be well aware of my companion 'Woody', a teddy bear given to me by Charlotte Wood (aged 8) when I left the teaching profession. I vowed to take him on all my adventures and he has subsequently developed fame in his own right (appearances on BBC Breakfast News and the like!). However, my crew mates have given me endless stick about the fact that I boarded with a teddy and he has become the butt of many jokes. Things got totally out of control during my 4 - 8am watch this morning. I returned below deck to find  Woody had been taken hostage (see attached photo!). I shall not sleep until I have found the culprit of such cruel treatment to bears! I will expose the dastardly person in my next update.

We lost wind in the night and the back runners got the new wind first so some are right up with us now.  Most of the boats are still in sight which is very exciting and is keeping everyone working hard as it is like match racing but on a bigger scale!  Some of the yachts seem preoccupied with trying to steel each others wind.  BP and Me to You have been playing this game all day, gybing in front of one another constantly.  We are hoping that they will be so pre-occupied with each other that they won't notice us sneaking up behind.  I'm helming, trimming the kite or in the snake-pit mostly but it's still not automatic and I'm making mistakes which I am extremely frustrated about.  Night is especially bad in the snake-pit because there are 21 ropes and I can't see them in the dark and I still don't know instinctively which one goes where. 

Those of you back in the cold will be pleased to know that it is still very hot and my tan is coming along well (a girl’s got to get her priorities right…) but the air is getting cooler in the night as we head south.  We saw a huge seal today so the waters are getting cold fast.

When we go off watch we head straight to the dinner table for a steaming hot dog-sized-bowl of food served up by the poor crew member who is on Mother Watch for 24 hours!  Then it's straight to bed until our watch leader wakes us 40 minutes before our next watch begins. So that's what I'm up to, in its simplest terms.  There is masses that I have missed out... mopping out the bilges every hour etc but more of that another time.

Have a great weekend. Big hugs to all back at home,
Debra x

-ends-

23 December 2004

 

Dear Landlubbers

Finally Christmas has arrived on Yacht Pindar. It was almost impossible to appreciate that Christmas was nearly upon us as there was no physical signs to remind us of it looming on the horizon, but Tony Sanders has transformed the Saloon into a magical place that sparkles amid all the greyness of the Southern Ocean. We have decorations, tiny stockings (one each) filled with sweets thanks to Paul Scott's Mum, a large Santa sack that is swinging above the table and a Christmas tree - fantastic!  It has brought much Christmas cheer and a break from the relentlessness of Ocean Racing.

Due to the closeness of the race it does mean that we are not by any means out of the race but it does mean that we have to push hard every second of every day. So, yes, Christmas will be a very welcome distraction while on our off watches. One of the things I am most looking forward to is the Christmas Eve Midnight Carol Service that Tony has organised. It will be one of the few occasions when both watches will be together for more than a few minutes. The current plan is to have it up on deck but at present the forecast is for severe gales! There's something special about taking a moment to do something traditional - almost 'normal' - when nothing about where we are or what we are doing is normal. The general consensus on board is that it is a delight to spend a Christmas away from the crazy commercialisation of Christmas that seems to start earlier every year but there is no getting away from thoughts of those  most dearest to us. We think about you all constantly. Those with young children are finding it especially hard. Our Carol service is one way of reminding us what you may be doing back at home at this time of year and, from a far, sharing a little in that. 

We had an awesome Christmas so please don't go thinking that I went without. It was really very special. We started at midnight on Christmas Eve with some of the most out of tune carol singing that you are ever likely to hear in 25 knots of wind. But this was made up for by some lovely moments of praying for those who have been lost at sea and for our loved ones back at home. All of this was done while clutching fiercely to hymn sheets that where doing good impressions of mini white sails and a thermos  mug of hot Ribena, which we were told was mulled wine. Oceans racing is great for developing ones active imagination!

Monday 1 December

I’m on Mother Watch from 6 am today so will be below deck cooking and cleaning for the day. I've just finished a watch and am absolutely buzzing.  My snake-pit buddy was on Mother Watch so I had to do the pit in the dark on my own.  A spinnaker sheet shredded and we had to do an emergency drop then pole out the number 1.  The learning curve for me was massive… again!  I loved it even though it was a tad pressured as the crew were waiting on me to control it all.  I no longer feel unsure of where all the ropes are!!!!  It was exactly what I needed.  I was forced into having to do it on my own and didn't make any mistakes.  I was a bit slow on some things though but tomorrow it should all feel a lot more automatic.  Hoorah!  I love it.  Well, I have to be back on watch in 3 1/2 hours so I had better go to sleep.  I can hear Loz on deck shouting "24 days to Christmas" as it has just gone midnight and is 1st December, so... Pinch Punch first of the month!  White Rabbits.  Ha! Got you all.

Love and hugs, Debra

-ends-

In summary this first week, as we have raced down the coast of South America, has been perfect for me.  We started with a steady wind for a few days which gave my leg more time to heal and me time to get my head around what all the multi coloured bits of string do.  (Ugh. The boat feels like it has just dropped out of the sky!  We must have fallen off the back of a hollow wave.  There's been a lot of that in the last 24 hours.) Then we had a few big bits of drama as we fought to save two sails (50% success rate) as we passed through two weather fronts - not ideal but excellent practice for what we can expect when we round Cape Horn later today.  The weather has got increasingly harsh and temperatures have plummeted every day further south we have ventured - more good practice for things to come - and all of this has been a fantastic way to get to know my crew mates.

The race ahead of us is incredibly exciting. As I type the leading three boats are within 1 mile of each other and jostling it out, which is staggering after over 6000 miles of racing. They should be crossing the finishing line any minute. We, on the other hand, are currently at the back but are about to do the most amazing overtaking maneuver. No, really we are! So far we have been lulling the rest of the fleet into a false sense of security with our position but, you see, it was actually all very carefully planned. Okay, so I'm lying but it's nice to dream! If the wind picks up we should be hitting the bar within 2 to 3 days.

(Pictures shows Debra being greeted by yachtswoman Emma Richards on arrival in New Zealand)

-ends-

My watch is off watch and it is hilarious observing the goings on. We are all desperately trying to find things to do with ourselves. Patience is in short supply for some people. Everyone is having showers, digging out that clean pair of pants they have been saving and packing up their personal kit. Now I'm just sitting and watching the others. They have started playing cards. Luckily, having spent the past month reading Wendy Bray's book 'The Art of Waiting' I'm feeling incredible peaceful about waiting for the whole arrival moment. It will happen when it happens. I also feel that I should be sovouring the moment. These are my last few hours onboard. It's been wonderful.

 

The last time I wrote was when we could see dry land but were stuck in a wind hole so I should probably explain that the wind did finally pick up and it was awesome to sail into beautiful Wellington Harbour.  Bizarrely this is the first event I have finished where no one from my family was there to greet me and I hadn't prepared myself for how hard that was going to be.  While everyone else was crying and hugging their family members I just stood on deck hugging a bottle of Champagne, not really knowing what to do with myself (I guess there are worse things I could have been hugging!).  Thankfully Emma Richards (from Around Alone fame/also sponsored by Pindar) and Camilla from Pitch PR were there to greet us so I eventually found a few friendly faces to talk to, but in general it was a bit of an anticlimax. Sharing these experiences with your family makes all the difference. I won't make that mistake again next time. 

The next three days were a bit of a blur as the Kiwi's really know how to party! Nights were filled with celebrating and days were filled with boat de-store, cleaning and maintenance work.  I spent a whole day cleaning mould from between the wooden slats behind the bunks with a tooth brush - I would not recommend it as an effective hangover cure!  Then it was time to say my goodbyes to the crew.  Fortunately this was made easier by the fact that everyone just wanted to get away with friends and family and tour NZ so to some extent the team had already absconded - certainly mentally anyway. I too was distracted when I found out that Tim (my fiancée) was making a surprise visit thanks to a very generous sponsor.

The following day the freeze-dried food was left in the cupboard and Shonagh (IC of food) brought out the fresh potatoes, carrots, onions, garlic and peppers that she had been hiding for four weeks. Not exactly fresh by landlubber standards but the most incredible taste sensation to us. We even had some kind of turkey (I thought it best not to ask), Christmas decorations, crackers and Christmas pudding and custard (courtesy of the skippers Grandma). This was all topped of by a thimble sized paper cup of champagne. My family and friends (now well versed at having to pack ultra small waterproof Christmas presents for me!) completely excelled themselves. Mum's CD of Christmas Carols went down a storm with the crew, although it did get a bit much by midnight, having been played on repeat 100 times!

Now all of a sudden the sweep stake has been closed and pinned to the board for our ETA in Welly. It's looking like we may be there in a week or so. How did that happen? Over four weeks at sea have flown by and my mini adventure is sadly almost over. Consequently I'm finding it harder to sleep in my off watch, not wanting to miss a minute of the action. Although it is relatively calm today the action is definitely still in full flow. We have one yacht who is in the middle of a medical emergency, waiting a passing ship or possibly the NZ Navy to take the causality so that a helicopter can land on deck and whisk him off to hospital once they are in 400 mile chopper range of land. The race fleet is still phenomenally close together and we have gained on them well in the last 24 hours - amazing considering we are sailing down wind with limited spinnaker options having trashed one and left the other on the bottom of the ocean! An email arrived from a skipper from the last Global Challenge today explaining that in his race he was 600 miles behind the leader at this stage and caught up to lead the way into the Cook Straights. We are only 200 or so miles behind so it's going to be a very interesting final week of racing. Hoorah!

Big festive season hugs,

Debra x

 

-ends-

This is going to be an awesome adventure.  I just can’t wait to get going. Having had Andrew Pindar and Emma Richards (of Around Alone fame) here to encourage us at the beginning of the week we are more than ready. Bring it on!

 Love

 Debra

-ends-

Hi from on board Pindar. 

Well, we’re off!  What an awesome start.  I found the whole thing so exciting.  Loz, our skipper, timed if perfectly on the start line and we only had BG SPIRIT to windward of us so had relatively clean air (GET ME!  Am I sounding like I know what I'm talking about yet!?).  After an incredible start the wind picked up to 15 knots and we were flying along as one of the front runners.  The speed is so exhilarating - much better then rowing (Remind me why I did that?!). We were then treated to an amazing sunset, followed by more stars in the sky than seemed feasible.  But  they faded away after a blood red moon rose from the horizon and later lit the night as if it was day - AMAZING.  I had to hide my tears because I was so overwhelmed by the beauty of creation.  No wonder I found grace out here before.  It is all around us.  I was beginning to wonder if I was imagining life at sea to be better than it was but it's every bit as special as I had remembered it and some more. I'm so happy and feel so fortunate to be here.

I should point out (although it is probably blatantly obvious) that sailing is a fairly new discipline to me.  I attended a couple of training sails with Challenge Business, the race organisers, to learn the basics and that’s about it.  Still, I didn’t let the fact that I couldn’t row get in the way of rowing across the Atlantic.  To say I’m experiencing a steep learning curve would be an understatement. 

-ends-

My leg is much better today.  I have a full range of movement and it only hurts when I overdo it.  General tasks are not a problem now.  Things are still great on board.  We can still see the front three boats and are right behind them.  I think we are about 5th but it is hard to tell as some have gone 60 miles off our port side but are still in a line with us. 

Dear all,

This sailing lark really is quite fantastic! In many ways it seems almost civilized but that's only because I am comparing it to solo ocean rowing. Here's how it works.  There are 18 of us on board.  Our Skipper Loz Marriott is the only professional sailor on board.  Graham is helping Loz out with the navigation and tactics then everyone else is split into two watches.  My watch is led by Andy Cameron (aka Cam).  Our watches are split up so that we sail for one 6 hour watch during the daylight hours then there are three lots of 4 hour watches during the night.  Every other day our watch has to do two of the night time watches with a four hour break in between:

Watch 1: 08:00 to 14:00
Watch 2: 14:00 to 20:00
Watch 3: 20:00 to Midnight
Watch 4: Midnight to 04:00
Watch 5: 04:00 to 0800

We go up on deck ten minutes before our watch begins to run through a thorough handover from our positions on the other watch.  Bizarrely this is the only time we get to see the other watch. My role on the boat is anything from the snake pit backwards but I try to sneak forward at any opportunity.

The snake pit is half way down the boat and is the area where almost all of the ropes run back to (about 21). When we are doing lots of sail changes in quick succession the pit gets filled with metres and metres of multicoloured rope - all tangled up and resembling a pit full of snakes (hence the name!) I sometimes go back to the next section towards the rear of the boat (the cockpit) to work the sheets (ropes) that trim the sails to get them looking lovely jubbly and full of wind.  Finally I also have to helm which entails turning the big wheel right at the stern.  Most of these skills are totally new to me so the learning curve has been almost vertical. But I'm loving it.

Only hours to go until we round Cape Horn

It's so wonderful to have email access but it's getting to the stage where it is increasingly difficult to type!  We are less than 50 miles from Cape Horn and the boat is heeled over at 40 degrees.  I have my feet against one wall, my back braced against another and the keyboard jammed between my knees. Everything takes so much longer at this angle. 

We are ploughing towards Cape Horn at great speed, having set the record for the most number of miles covered in 24 hours.  It was my first experience of helming in over 30 knots of wind (force 8) and with massive waves.  'Wow' is all I can say! 

In summary this first week, as we have raced down the coast of South America, has been perfect for me.  We started with a steady wind for a few days which gave my leg more time to heal and me time to get my head around what all the multi coloured bits of string do.  (Ugh. The boat feels like it has just dropped out of the sky!  We must have fallen off the back of a hollow wave.  There's been a lot of that in the last 24 hours.) Then we had a few big bits of drama as we fought to save two sails (50% success rate) as we passed through two weather fronts - not ideal but excellent practice for what we can expect when we round Cape Horn later today.  The weather has got increasingly harsh and temperatures have plummeted every day further south we have ventured - more good practice for things to come - and all of this has been a fantastic way to get to know my crew mates.

I now feel that I have found my place within the team (watch).  I'm so chuffed with the way we our working together.  The camaraderie and communication (particularly in strong winds when you can't hear a thing) is brilliant and this has dramatically increased the speed at which we are handling the all important manoeuvres like sail changes and putting a reef in the main sail (which makes the sail area smaller). 

-ends-

Only hours to go until we round Cape Horn

It's so wonderful to have email access but it's getting to the stage where it is increasingly difficult to type!  We are less than 50 miles from Cape Horn and the boat is heeled over at 40 degrees.  I have my feet against one wall, my back braced against another and the keyboard jammed between my knees. Everything takes so much longer at this angle. 

We are ploughing towards Cape Horn at great speed, having set the record for the most number of miles covered in 24 hours.  It was my first experience of helming in over 30 knots of wind (force 8) and with massive waves.  'Wow' is all I can say! 

I now feel that I have found my place within the team (watch).  I'm so chuffed with the way we our working together.  The camaraderie and communication (particularly in strong winds when you can't hear a thing) is brilliant and this has dramatically increased the speed at which we are handling the all important manoeuvres like sail changes and putting a reef in the main sail (which makes the sail area smaller). 

It's hard to imagine just how bad the conditions are going to get in the next few weeks.  So far we have been sheltered by the coast to some extent but in a few hours we will round the Horn and boldly head out into the most treacherous ocean on the planet.  The wind is very strong around the bottom of the world which whips the waves up into a bit of a frenzy but what makes all this worse is that there are no land masses to stop the waves from growing.  They just keeping travelling round and round, getting bigger and bigger and for some stupid reason we have chosen to plough head first into them - against the prevailing winds and tides.  I guess we are about to find out why it is called the Worlds Toughest Yacht Race.  Sir Chay Blyth's closing slide of his presentation just before we left Buenos Aires was of his upturned trimaran off Cape Horn.  "I spent 19 hours in the water" he told us in his usual gruff Scottish way. Then with a little smirk he added "I wouldn't recommend it".  Thanks for the top advice Chay!

Debra

-ends-

Hello there,

It's all change here on Pindar for me but sadly still no change to our position in the race - trailing. However since last writing I have been swapped to the other watch and am now officially a 'Bow Babe'! One of the guys no longer wished to go swimming daily on the pointy bit of the boat so I offered to change my role (this was a very foolhardy and naive offer!). I'm now practising my front crawl daily in ice cold water!

I should probably explain that on these yachts the bow team tend to be the biggest, strongest and heaviest guys you have on the boat as you spend all of your time carrying sails to and from below deck, hanking them on the forestays and sweating the ropes at the mast to hoist them 90ft in the air, while constantly being washed off your feet by waves breaking over the bow. Obviously my huge stature will find this sort of work a breeze - not! It's most definitely the grunt work and I can honestly say that I have never experienced anything so physically challenging in my life. The last twenty feet of heaving to get the sails to the top of the mast makes my lungs feel like they are about to explode. I often return from the bow shaking, not from the cold, but from the excessive about of lactic acid that has flooded my muscles during the huge effort required for a sail change. I LOVE IT! This has got to be the most rewarding position on the yacht. I leave each watch feeling like I have pushed myself way beyond my physical max and it leaves me with an exhausted feeling that is somehow immensely satisfying.

Now let me tell you the less rosy news about being on the bow. There are normally four of us but two of our bow boys are out of action with back problems, so myself and the number 1 bowman Spike are having a mega tough time of it all. Injury is much more likely on the bow and they can be serious and race stopping, as one of the yachts in the race has just discovered. The No1 bowman on Stelmar was thrown against the forestay (metal wire that holds up the mast) with such force by a huge wave that it snapped the bone in the top of his arm in several places. The yacht has had to turn around and head for the nearest land, which in this case is Chile. They will be unable to restart as the insurance will not cover them to sail alone across the Southern Ocean, so far behind the rest of the fleet. We are still waiting to discover if it is the end of the race for them or if they can sail directly to Cape Town and join in on the last few legs of the race. The news has rocked our boat and has been a big wake up call for me. We can't afford to lose any more bowman and I quite fancy coming home in one piece so I shall be clipping on diligently and always trying to keep one hand free for the boat.

Thank you so much, again, to those who have sent emails this week. Some have made me laugh and some have made me cry and some have given us great topics of conversation for night watches (thanks Pat Younge at BBC Sport!) A few asked some questions which I shall try to answer in another update.

Big hugs,

Debra

 

-ends-

17 December 2004

 

Dear All

Mother here!  Well, at least I am for today anyhow. Mother Watch brings about a welcome change – I’ll be dry for the day, but still busy clinging onto a moving stove in an attempt to keep the 17 other people on board fed in a way that keeps them competitive and at the peek of their athletic ability. The second priority is to wipe clean every surface with some very whiffy smelling chemical stuff that stops bacteria growing.  It's also an opportunity to catch up on some much needed sleep. Although we have time off watch, mostly in 4 hour chunks, by the time we have gotten out of our dry suits, eaten a hot meal and washed/used the loo, then repeated the exercise in reverse before starting the next watch, it only allows for 2 hours 20 minutes of sleep. If you read or send emails this precious time reduces significantly.

Everything down below is damp. Our heating has failed to work since we hit the Southern Ocean, so on returning below deck in sopping wet kit and making contact with the heat from the galley stove the most excessive about of condensation is created. My mission, which I have chosen to accept, is to do everything possible to keep the following items dry: My fleece neck snuggle thingy that is pulled up to just below my eyes when on deck, my mid-layers (a rather fetching bright red adult-sized baby grow), the interior of my Sealskinz waterproof socks (best piece of kit on the boat - don't leave home without them-thanks for these Liz!) and the socks that go inside these ones and, of course, Woody! Life is significantly more comfortable and enjoyable when these items are kept dry.  If they get even slightly damp I put them inside my sleeping bag so that the heat from my body can dry them out. These tricks of the trade have been passed down from Global Challengers of yester-year and make life onboard bearable.

It doesn't, however, stop the loo seat from being unbearably cold and damp to sit on. Aiming and achieving contact with the seat initially is a saga as the boat leaps from side to side and up and down. Keeping one's posterior in contact, particularly when falling off the back of high waves should be made into an extreme sport in it's own right. Letting go with one hand to wipe is precarious and made more taxing by the need to then reach out and place the offending paper in a plastic bag that is hanging opposite (nothing goes down the loo unless it has been consumed first!).  But by far the worst dilemma is timing that moment between waves when you let go with both hands and make a mad dash for your pants and thermals and hope that they can be yanked up before the next big wave hits. Bearing in mind that we do not have solid doors on the loo's (only a curtain) if you time this bit wrong there is a potentially high risk of ending up in a heap in the corridor with your thermals around your ankles.

Today we reached the 'half way' milestone and at this point we are about 200 miles behind the rest of the fleet. It's hard not to constantly analyse why it is that we are off the pace of the other boats as it is certainly not for want of trying. The Southern Ocean really is proving to be a very strange place. We have had a few days of blizzard snow storms that last for only 5 or 10 minutes, followed by a burst of sunshine. These are always short lived
and very rare. Sadly the most apt word to describe what it is like down here is 'grey'. You know those black and white greetings cards you can buy of a little girl holding a red balloon and only the balloon is in colour?... well that's exactly what it is like. As we sit on deck in our bright yellow dry suits we are the red balloons in a black and white photo. It is almost always overcast here and the sea is often angry, but there is a beauty in this angry greyness that is quite breathtaking at times. Frustratingly we have not seen any stars though and for me this is a big disappointment. The vast starry skies are one of the things I often daydreamed about when I thought about my Atlantic Row. I long to see them again and am hopeful that as we near New Zealand they will come out to play of a night time.

Finally, you'll be pleased to hear that Woody has now been returned to my bunk and is safe and well. I am hoping that he is not too emotionally scared. I suspect the Skipper was behind the dastardly action but am yet to find conclusive evidence, however plans are already underway to attain revenge. This will be done when he is off guard to achieve maximum effect. Suggestions of how this can be done would be gratefully received but please bear in mind that, as Skipper, we are pretty reliant on him getting us to Wellington safely so pain-free suggestions only please.

Big hugs,

Debra x

 

-ends-

The racing is quite exceptional. All yachts received an email from Sir Chay Blyth this morning saying that he had never seen such close racing before in his life. Four thousand miles of racing and only 45 miles separates the first nine yachts.  He went on to say "let no one say that the Skippers and Crews on the Global Challenge 2004 round the world yacht race were not competitive and that goes for all of the yachts, even the back yacht is only 234 which would be more like the normal distance (between the leaders). You must all be working feverishly as very committed Teams". Thanks Chay – yes we are! We are, of course, the yacht at the back that he is talking about.

During a silent moment on deck yesterday one of the guys said out of the blue "I wonder which Bond movie will be on TV this Christmas?". It's funny how the little things we take for granted seem so important when you are thousands  of miles away. I can guarantee that every single one of us will have a moment (if not 20!) on Christmas day when we wish more than anything that we could be back at home, snuggled up with family on the sofa's watching a good old Bond movie. A phrase that you often hear on board when we are talking about being here for Christmas is "well, there'll never be another one like it" Funny... I remember saying exactly the same thing to myself three years ago and yet here I am again!!! Another Christmas on a different ocean – I must be mad. Thank you to my friends, family and in particular to my amazing chap, Tim, for being so supportive and putting up with my crazy antics.

Big love and Christmas Blessings, Dx

 

-ends-

28 December 2004

 

Dear All,

Ju