At last, the weather broke, + some sunshine at last. A rather hazy day, but real sun for all that. And so, for the first time, we were able to obtain a sextant reading. Unfortunately, it showed us to be a good bit further back than we’d thought, but then it’s no good being nourished by false notions. Also managed to pick up the BBC, + so discover that Britain had launched their invasion of the Falklands, + had established a bridgehead, that the Pope was shortly arriving in Britain, that Aston Villa had won the European Cup, that Spurs and QPR had drawn in the Cup Final. The replay was tomorrow, being broadcast live over the World Service, + so we were hoping to pick it up. It felt almost uncanny to be listening in on England – we even caught a snatch of the Top 20 being played – + may have had something to do with our homesickness rising again. Val + I had one of our periodic conversations about food – cups of tea, buttered buns, hot crumpets… Perfick, as Larkin would say (Pa, not Philip.) A fine meal in the evening – chili, followed by cold rice pudding. For once, there was even enough for me. And then first watch for me, under a starry sky.
Things seem to be moving along just fine, with even the weather contributing. And news from home is always good, even though it does create a certain tension, as I have to use the ship’s radio, and Jack does not think this is a valuable use of it.
Larkin, by the way, is a reference to a series of novels by H E Bates about the Larkin family – well worth reading, if English bucolic is your thing.
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