Tribute for 12 Years. Malta. Sails

Tribute for 12 Years. Malta. Sails ‪ Malta ‬ still won’t let us go. First there were storms, and we didn’t go anywhere. Then we waited a long time for the new sails while they were made and remade. Now the Gods are exacting tribute. As for the tribute—the valiant laundry failed to return Nastya’s knitted vest with a fur-trimmed hood, all the way from Paris itself. Our young sailor dearly loved it. But that was only half the trouble. She had another favourite possession, the most precious and deeply revered of all—a touchscreen phone. Today we drowned it. This is how it happened: Andrey turned the bosun’s chair into a swing, and Nastya happily swung from the mast between the shrouds and ropes. It looked cool. And then it occurred to us to take some photos of this “coolness” on the phone. The photos came out well, but they will never see the light of day. Once the photo shoot was over, I headed along the deck towards the cockpit, cheerfully waving the instrument of the photo session about so I could put it somewhere safe. Meanwhile Nastya, still swinging in the bosun’s chair, performed the “never stand under a swinging boom” manoeuvre. The result: with a light flick of her foot, our daughter knocked the device out of my hands. As if in slow motion, the phone flipped open its case in a plaintive “Farewell” and sank into the sea... There was enough grief for the whole marina. Our soft-hearted German neighbours, after listening attentively to this Yaroslavna’s lament, gave her a waterproof pouch for her future new phone. Now the child has a dream. And a few days later, they did finally return the vest to us. That cheered the inconsolable young sailor up a little. Just a little. Sails And at last the new sails arrived. The days were windy, so we had to fit the new sails in gusty conditions, which took us almost the whole day. Remarkably, the wind always chose to blow especially hard straight into the raised and almost secured mainsail. It was great fun and hard on the knuckles. Next— Storms and Torn Sails. From Malta to Gibraltar