View to port

The babykins came for her regular hour or so of grandpa’s bespoke babysitting service. After a period of playing with the Rachel Maclean-alike scary toy, and a bit of Katie Morag on TV, she did what I’d do - fall asleep.
Later, I got that boat over to the pontoon. I thought I’d get it on there before the other crowd as their lift-out is on Thursday. Only to find that the politics have started already. The fellow Corinthian who has the boat in front of mine has moved further up the pontoon than he should have, judging by the plan, leaving me with a large gap at my bows. He’s done this, I’m quite sure, to make it awkward for the boat in front of him who he doesn’t care for much. Some guy who uses too many lines apparently, and leaves the loose ends untidily strewn around the cleats. And never goes sailing all year - infuriating! I’m entreated to also move further up, to present a united front. An unwelcoming party, if you like. Oh for a quiet life.