Wind, rain and mist.

A planned escape at 06:00 today was abandoned with wind howling even in the shelter of the harbour. A later conversation with the harbourmaster confirmed the decision. "Ye'd be knocked to ****" was the professional opinion. "Do you think all them lobster boats want to be tied up there? When you see them move you'll know the weather's improving.". This seems likely to be a more reliable source of I information than MetEirann, whose belated warnings have become the stuff of wry jokes.

Plans for next stages expand in proportion to the frustration of being stuck. Don't be surprised if the next entry is from New England.

A day of catching up on minor tasks like shaving and rigging Barbour haulers for the jib sheets. It seemed appropriate to sample the pub for a lunchtime pint before feeding ourselves on toasted cheese on wheaten. This became true Sunday lunch with the addition of chips from the local carry-out.

Book reading; tide calculating; course plotting; a little doze; only to waken to find the wind still howling and the rain lashing. Such is Sunday in Kilmore in July.