Journal of the fortyninth day on board

20th June, 1999

The good weather lasted just a few hours. We are once again in port fastened to the typical "dead weight" that, even if dead, is saying:

"But when are they going to get out there these Mission Sharks people? They always seem stuck at port. Shouldn't they be in the middle of the sea looking for the sharks?"

You're right my dear dead weight, we should have been 10 miles south of Filfla and certainly not here anchored to you and your filthy rope.

Ennio: our dead weight

It's scarce consolation to know we're not the only ones in port. Yes, because everyone has come back and we are surrounded by craft much bigger than ours, all hemmed in by a north westerly Force 7.

Realising the nuisance of the local "dead weight" we've thought of taking one back home with us, to Pescara to be precise.