George said yesterday that my head looks like a campfire that's gone out. I rather liked that.George is a friend of Pelican John, and they're constructing the nets between the bowsprit and the outriggers, complete with the Caribbean Dunny. This is a hole at one corner, Crew, For The Use Of. Oh, just use your imagination, OK?

Pelican John came round on Sunday evening with his guitar and entertained us all. He's very good. Stuart will be providing a video, which is definitely worth watching and listening to.

Jim and I had a long chat last week about bikes. He's an HD rider, of course (large, black leather, fringes, all that), but had no problem with me and The Old Dear. Jolly nice chap

Miss Rose is 80 and owns Shorty's. On Saturday night there was a street dance, and she arrived on the back of Jim's Harley, which was decked with red, white and blue ribbons.

On Sunday afternoon one of Jim's friends went round to see him and found him dead in his chair. There'll be one hell of a wake.

Jim is the manager of West Marine, where we're buying most of the kit for the boat. Another lovely guy, and as we see each other almost every morning he reckons I should just move in. It's only 20 miles from here (all the way to Corpus Christi), and I love driving the F150 pickup - Stuart rented it because he's gone native, and both of us are fully-paid-up rednecks now, and anyway we need it to cart stuff around.

Jeff is a magician. He knows all about boats, climbs up masts a lot, and has gorgeous legs. His invariable response to anything is "O-key-dokey."

And there's Janie our lovely landlady, Dennis (the Menace) at the marina, Steven the nice young doctor, Tessa the Mad Aussie and her husband Jim, Reba the boatcleaner, Jesse the odd-job man with the ulcer . . .