This must be the first time that we've got this far through the year without Kantara having moved the tiniest bit. Apart from the obvious down-side of that (for the unimaginative amongst you, the downside is that we've not been anywhere near the places I planned to visit this year) is that spiders have had the time to colonise (nothing to do with our alimentary canals) the boat and multiply bigly, manifold times. Outside and in, there seems to be no square foot (929.0304 square centimetres for those who are too young to remember proper measurements) that hasn't had multiple webs woven across it many times. To put it simply - they're everywhere.
Inside, we can keep it under control - ish. The vacuum cleaner works wonders, and the feather duster is a good standby for sudden emergencies. But simply stepping up onto the well-deck means running one's face through miles (multiples of 1.6093439 kilometres) of thread. Walking down the jetty between Kantara and Emma Jane requires a brushing-down of the front of one's body from shoulder to foot at the end of it. And if you choose to walk back after as little as ten minutes, you'll have a repeat performance, such is the enthusiasm and skill of the flipping arachnids. On more than one occasion, each of us has had spiders trying to nest in our hair.
Some of the densest web is inside the cockpit, where it has coated the doors, the underside of the hatch and the morse handle, hidden the odometer, tied the drawer handles together, and thoroughly bound up a pair of my boots. Strangely, I have seen few spiders. They must hide very well. (Having said that, I've just this minute seen one hauling its way up to the ceiling from the table. Yes, this is a very poor photo of it.)
(Okay, I've just been around the entire boat on a spider-hunt, and counted thirty-eight. They're small. I just hadn't noticed them.)
Just to pad out this post, here's a bit of a Blogography gallery of recent marina moments.
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