At the boatyard

‘No problem’, says the fisherman, but I highly doubt it when I see the large white Greek sheepdog coming straight at us with twisted lips and his mouth wide open. Our fearlessly barking Sammie seems to be his first target. As I lift a thick bamboo stick with both hands as high as possible above my head, I look straight into the big dog’s mouth. He doesn’t back down. Then I hit the stick on his head with all my strength. It breaks. Bamboo is not strong. Fortunately, the dog is put off anyway. Relieved, but still somewhat trembling, we enter the tavern, where we have just been invited for the remnants of the Easter table. Kalo Pascha (Happy Easter)!

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Four years of(f) freedom

It’s on a Thursday just over four years ago that I close the door to my office for the very last time. Friday we hand over the keys of our empty house to the new owners. That same day we drive for the last time in our fully packed and already sold VW Polo to Kollum in the North of Holland. It takes three days for all our last belongings to finally find a place in our new sailing home: a seven-meter-long Cornish Crabber. The great adventure can begin. Or actually: it has already started.

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