Easterly winds are too good waste, and 58 hours and 352 miles after we set out from the Swale we are now in the picturesque little Cornish port of Fowey. The picture shows Bonita on one of the visitors' moorings.
This, like many seaside towns, is perhaps better appreciated from the water . We went ashore and found crowds of people everywhere. Few seemed to be wearing masks. Presumably many of those who might normally have spent half term relaxing on a foreign beach (or maybe in an airport departure lounge) are discovering the bracing delights of a holiday at home.
Some shops sell so many things of no practical use at such high prices that you wonder how they balance the books. The showers in the yacht club are closed due to the risk of coronavirus, but we were unsure about whether this was truly evidence based. Many of the pubs and restaurants were fully booked so it was with some relief that, notwithstanding our unwashed state, we found a very welcome meal in the Royal Fowey Yacht Club.
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