New resolve

So here we are, close hauled and bound for the shelter of the harbour, our safe haven from the winter gales. I expect by now many of the resolutions convincingly made, are now to be found washed up broken and discarded upon the grey cruel shore of the New Year. We've survived, just! the Red Lion and festive indulgence to stagger into the irresponsible youth of January, fishing empty nets for no profits, with frozen hands and wet boots, watching spring tides raging through the bay, rattling windows with the icy, numbing East winds. Soon it will be time to set to and repair the ravages of gale and storm, wind and wave, as the Centuries old Quay wall succumbs to the constant finger picking of the sea, small holes becoming larger holes becoming noticeable; so bucketed and trowelled, armed with sand and cement, I come to fill, shore up, restore, replace, repair; putting right as best I can, the elements reclaiming wrongs and prolonging the life of the Quay.

What next? A whole untouched year ahead, full steam ahead; brimming with potential delights, events and festivals, a harbour of entertainment, lobster feasts, maritime extravaganzas, gig racing regatta's, showing off lifeboat day's. The "fit for a film set harbour," welcoming in visiting yachts, returning friends and first time explorers, a welcome sight and a sad farewell. People shall sit lining the wall with pint and picnic looking back at a village ignoring time; others will swim and leap, faith bound into the full Quay, while fishing boats continue doing as they've always done and head out and return home, work done, as for those of us that live here, we go into the new year with new resolve and take each day head on, we are fishermen, we are boatmen and this is our home.