Living on a small boat…

… carries a problem. Let us call it “personal freshness”. OK, you can, and I do, swim in the sea to wash off the perspiration, but it leaves you encrusted with salt and seaweedy exhudations. Soap doesn’t lather too well in salt water, though shaving isn’t too bad with a wet razor and a tin of foam. Mind you, I had a nice soaking in fresh water during the storm, but its effects were somewhat blunted by the fact that I was fully dressed and later spent some time in the engine compartment. Clothes washing is another problem, and I resent using drinkable mineral water for washing.

However, this is quite a touristy spot, so I executed a cunning plan today. I shaved and spruced myself up as best I could, rolled up my swimming trunks and some dirty washing in a large orange ethnic knitted bag which I bought in Athens as a shopping bag, then took a walk along the beach. Shortly, I found a well-populated beachfront hotel with swimming pool. I strolled around the foyer, examining touristy stuff, discovering that my appearance was much more respectable than most of the residents. Then I changed in the (wonderful marble) loo, and swam in the fresh water pool for a while. Then I retired to the showers and rinsed through my smalls under a stream of warm fresh water, returning along the beach with my damp washing which I have since dried on the forestay (a bit of rope we sailors use to stop the mast falling over backwards). The only flaw in the plan was the orange knitted bag, which turned out to be far from colour-fast, and I am now the owner of some original tie-dyed orange underwear and shirts. But it feels so good to be salt-free and wearing clothes that aren’t scratchy with salt.

More importantly, I replied to Lionel thanking him for his warning and for his continued attention to the development of Desmëi’s tv career. He replied almost immediately, as follows:

Honoured Sir,
(Desmëi) has prevailed upon me to 
request that you arrange for an email to 
be sent directly to her (email address 
supplied) from Someone in Authority, 
assuring her that you are surrendering
yourself unto the tender mercies of the 
United Kingdom Legal Apparatus. 
I understand that this may be 
extraordinarily difficult for you, but 
I can only convey to you that which 
she has requested.

So I had to go to the local internet cafe and build a little temporary emailer on one of my UK-based websites which had a Crown Prosecution Service sender address of (I couldn’t resist that tv programme) and a nice logo I ripped off the CPS website. In the email, Kavanagh tells her:

Though it is not usual to communicate 
with outsiders in matters such as this, 
the witness in question has asked me to 
assure you that he is already in the UK, 
that I am in contact with him, and that 
everything is going to plan. I so assure 
Yours etc.
James Kavanagh Q.C.

As a bonus, if she does reply to the CPS, I reckon the Kavanagh name will cause the CPS to junk it as a prank. Obviously, the routing info in my email reveals it as NOT being genuine, but she isn’t going to know that. I almost wish I had thought of it myself – it’s such a nice ploy – but it was even better to respond when she asked. I’ve got a nice warm feeling about that.

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