Red Sails in the Sunset

 I think that's an old Perry Como song.  For those of you who don't remember Perry Como, he was like the Michael Buble' of my parent's time.

Who's Michael Buble'?  Don't even start.

So the saga of the sails is drawing to a close.  It's a twisted tale of revenge and mayhem, betrayal and redemption.  No it's not, but that sounded good.  I should write a book.  

I had sent my sails in for repair before I left Fiji last time in late October '24.  Spoke with the guy on the dock, we went through what I wanted, he made notes.  I told him I would be back sometime next February ('25).  Don't rush.  (Pro tip:  Don't ever say 'Don't rush' in Fiji.). I was getting regular emails into December.  Ok.  Good...good.

Sent emails before I left.  Have you got my sails ready?  No response.  Again.  No response.  Finally I get a response to the effect that we will be sending them next week.  Ok, a little delay, I can handle that.  Week goes by, no sails.  Contact the office.  "Apologies for the delay.  We are sending them this week."  Ok, I have stuff to do...  Another missive:  "Please transfer money into this account."  Hello?  Where are my sails?

Then I get the WhatsApp message.  "We are starting on your sails."  Hello?  Sparky?  You've had my sails for four f***ing months, you've told me you're sending them, you've sent me the bill, and you're just starting them NOW?  So now I was getting like nine pictures every few hours of every step they were doing.  I was on three video calls so he could show me exactly what he was doing.  He was very proud of his work.

It took him two days.  Maybe three.  I made the money transfer.  The sails are being shipped up.  One of these days I get to leave the marina.