Stargazer’s barometer performs an Irish stepdance, upon her bulkhead: kicking high, stomping low. Chimeral skies alternate between blue and black. The whistle, of the wind, falls silent, before returning with a gleeful shriek. As the eye, of Erin, passes through.
The season is on the march. Autumnal September about to arrive. Bearing the equinox at its tail. Which is often marked by a Channel gale.
Aboard Stargazer, spirits have risen. With confirmation, from DPD, that three replacement batteries are on their way.
Short sharp downpours punctuate the sunshine. Through a drear blur, of raindrops, a rainbow burns bright.
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