So then, finally the hard graft and endless faffing about with a multitude of tedious yet essential details has come to an end. Idris is ready to launch.

tightly bound. Now you stay there my lovely.

Tightly bound. Now you stay there my lovely.

Just the small matter of getting her across a muddy field onto the tarmac and then the nerve jangling 20 mile tow to Retreat Boatyard for her annual birthing ritual into the Exe. I hate this bit. It only takes about three quarters of an hour even at my cautious snails pace, but it seems like an eternity. Every bump, noise or flap sends me into a twitching frenzy of mirror searching for that imaginary loose strap/ wheel/ spray hood, desperate not too fall foul of the westcountry law of sod in the middle of the A30. Oh well, it saves me about £900 in yard storage every year and I try to move her first thing on a Sunday morning when there’s no other traffic about. It’s probably worth it.

The (muddy) road to freedom.

The (muddy) road to freedom.

This time next week I can throw off the shackles of land and it’ll all seem worthwhile again…hopefully.