We arrived in Santander on Saturday 2nd September early in the morning and anchored outside the yacht club. Later that evening we took the orange dinghy and rowed of to the steps of the yacht club to take a look around the town. Dad attempted (emphasis attempted) to ask the door man in Spanish where the nearest paella restaurant was, all he managed to get out was “Paella… … Where (shrug)”, so instead we walked along the harbour wall to the market place where a medieval market was being held. Anyhow, eventually we managed to find the paella restaurant up a small side alley and hell was it one beast of a paella place. The second we got in, the waiter was ordering us a four man seafood speciality paella which took us hours to get through and brought about the new phrase - ‘ I’m Paella’d ’- which is literally translated as ‘ I’m stuffed full to the absolute brim of my plausible containment ability ’- good eh? So after squeezing out of our chairs we plodded back down to where the dinghy was moored and promptly encountered a problem which gave birth to anther phrase- ‘No-one accounted for the paella’. So it was up to dad to paddle us back as fast as possible before we sunk.
Next day George spent 4 or 5 hours speeding back and forth in the motored dinghy carrying bottles of water to fill up the tanks which were almost empty. Later that night we came about another episode of excitement; the story goes like this.
BOOM! “Dad” groans George sleepily “I think someone just drove into us” Within a few minutes we were all up on deck peering into the gloom to see who our attackers were but all we managed to spot was the rear end of a motor dinghy disappearing into the darkness. After a quick discussion we came up with the theory that they were trying to steal our motored dinghy (which we had foolishly left out). So we had to lift it out of the water and padlock it to the deck before anyone could go back to bed.