All We Hear Is . . .

IT’S been raining for the past couple of days, so I took the opportunity to get some paperwork done.

USCG documentation is already done, so that just left the ship’s station and operator’s licences for the VHF and SSB radio, and registration of the EPIRB (a helpful device that alerts the Coast Guard if we sink and tells them where we were when it happened).

Because this is the Age of Wonders, all this could be achieved from the comfort of my leather armchair (which I will miss) through the miracle of the Series of Tubes.

I have a love-hate relationship with the Interwebs. On the one hand, all the things that Bill & Stef had to search through chandleries and write (letters, ye gods!) to suppliers for, we just type into Google, compare prices, and then have delivered to our door. If I need information on how to repair my forehatch, I can find that online in seconds, probably in greater detail than I need.

On the other hand, it’s a time-thief of monstrous proportions, sucking away hour after hour into a vortex of tropes and cat videos. That part, I will not miss.

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