Tom Cunliffe
The season is winding up and November gales are scattering the ashes of the boatyard bonfires. We won’t be seeing so much of our boats for a while and, as long as we can divert our attention from the attractions of TV and social media, we’ll be grabbing the opportunity offered by dark evenings for some proper reading. I’m writing this in the saloon of my boat as I sit out a rainy day in harbour. On the bookshelf opposite is a well-thumbed copy of Moby Dick which I managed to read from cover to cover this season. It hasn’t been all plain sailing. In fact, much of the process has been more akin to a stiff beat with a suit of canvas that would do credit to the tarpaulin covering Old Steptoe’s cart. Despite the headwinds, though, it’s been worth it for the good bits. It’s a delight to
