Pick up my previously ordered ironing board from those nice chappies at Screwfix and head off to the boat. Fitting the bleeding thing is an exercise in deciphering spartan instructions, but I think I got it right. It works well enough, anyway, although I didn't bring a crumpled shirt or an iron to properly test it. That's that wardrobe complete so the First Mate and I duly wander off into the Jewellery Quarter for a rather jolly Italian. Very nice it iss, too, although in hindsight perhaps it didn't need quite so much wine with it. *hic*