Coffee morning

A call in to see old Robin - it had been a month and I was wondering how he was. So we sat and chatted in his front room - I wished I could have taken along some of my anchor chain. But our conversation ranged widely from his apprenticeship and national service to the progression of his illness and thoughts of selling his boat. Sheesh. 
Onward to Port Edgar for some engine oil and back to town to meet with the sitting man for an excellent conversation. I mean, poetry podcasts, yes really. And anxiety, the scourge of our young people. Even back in JS’s day which is comparatively recent, there was no such thing as self harming. But then again, as he observed, there wasn’t a single gay person at his school. Same as mine!
Then a bit of shopping as there’s a birthday upcoming. Chocolates again, eh? Back home before getting the boat over to the pontoon. My first experience of driving Rubber Dumbo about the harbour! With J who has views on outboards. And much else, as he’s a bit of a lockdown sceptic, but not like myself on epidemiological grounds (ahem), rather because it’s all about societal control, he asserts. Have you read the Unabomber Manifesto, he asks? I haven’t, I must admit. Tell me more about these two stroke Mercury engines.