We awoke surrounded by yachts all numbered with guys peeing off the back of their boats and the smell of bcaon drifting across the water. We headed off looking forward to our sail back and had some wind and tacked through a narrow gap between two islands to a snall bay with turqiouse water and a stone marked with ‘No Water for cats leave here’ and various bits of graffiti on other rocks.

We snorkelled around the bay which was very cold and returned to lie in the sun over lunch emptying our provisions finally with mustard on bread and the never ending Croatian version of Parma Ham.

The sail back to Kremik Marina was abandoned with absolutely no wind so it was a long motor back, more emptying of the holding tanks and a final parking into our bay. Clean up the boat, leave the skipper to tidy up the paper work as we abandoned ship for the nearest bar. It wasn;t going to be an option to hang around the marina with the HSBC flotilla (not too sure if they had actaully left the marina as they seemed to be in the same position with G&Ts when we left) so we grabbed a bus to Primosten for a night on the town

A weeks sailing had taken its toll and we all slumbed in front of our lasagnes in a harbour front bar, back to the Hungarian waitress foa beer and then a walk along the shore before we almost al fell asleep so headed back to the boat for an early rise to fly back.

The morning of leaving consisted of making ourselves presentable to get on a plane so it was standing in a queue for the loo with a line of cabins farting and plopping in some bizarre musical sequence as shaving and showering continued in parallel.

Presentable we were on the bus back to the airport chatting with sailors telling tales of tall ship races and why Turkey was cheaper to sail in. We had to remove our batteries from checked baggage (they keep changing the rules!) and I managed to get through security with my swiss knife card due to enormous confusion with our metal hiped skipper and Andy’s leg baggage and metal leg.

With guilt I managed to get a jar of bath salts to take back to the wife, although she did have a few days in the Lake District walking with her mum arranged as recipricol recompense for 7 days sailing in Croatia…

Gatwick have decided to sole the DVT problem by having one toilet at one the end of the airport’s cathedral to duty free – you follow the sign, clamber up the stairs or join the queue for the single lift, wander through all the restaurants for what seems like a hike before finding it. I should have brought my gps along with me.