Occasionally Bob sends fear surging through me. In the process of preparing lunch this day I stepped into the pilot house to enquire about his preference for food. No Bob in sight, out to the cockpit I went. No sign of him there, I peered through the windows: he was not to be seen.

Setting foot in the cockpit, it was possible to glimpse his feet and lower legs positioned upon the rails at the stern. These rapidly disappeared as he proceeded to climb upon the upper framework for the solar panels. There was My Beloved: no safety line attached, one hand gripping the backstay whilst holding a scraper in the other, a bucket of water resting between his feet. Having discovered the reason for the solar panels not charging as they should, he was cleaning them of bird poop whilst Gratis swayed. In between renewing the water for him, I watched on with my heart in my mouth, only relaxing once he set both feet upon the deck.