Grab some bits from Screwfix on my way to the boat, some magnetic catches for the underbed drawers and some brass cleats for the Roman blinds on the front doors. The cleats are a nice addition, but the magnetic catches are less effective than the blu-tack they replace. Roller catches may be the way to go, I think. After lunch I am joined by the First Mate and we set off to Sherborne Wharf to get the crap pumped out. This involves the tricksy manoeuvre of entering the Oozells Street Loop at the farther end, a 315 o turn or thereabouts. I have to do this as the outlet is on my port side and coming in from the easy end would have me starboard side on to the wharf. The First mate suggests turning inside the loop but I'm not sure if this is possible (it is). Anyway, as is always the case, there are large numbers of spectators about to watch me arse up the turn and wedge the boat diagonally in front of the Sea life centre. For some reason the Police appear to be giving people rides on wetbikes up and down Brindley Place. Most odd, considering wet bikes are usually used on the plane and these are wallowing about in displacement mode being restricted to the same 4mph as the rest of us. I get the boat around by playing the human bow-thruster while the First Mate drives, and we skulk off to Sherborne. The tank is emptied without incident, and with no leaks either more pleasingly. I'm now forced to spin around in the loop, as I know that you can't get a 64' boat out at the far end, and this time we get facing the other way without manual intervention. Back out into the Mainline and I nearly run down one of the aforementioned wetbikes. They are a bit low in the water and I have a great new blind spot thanks to my newly acquired roof box. That would have taken some explaining... The riders(?) are oblivious of their near-death experience, and wave cheerily as we pass. Ahem. After that, it's plain sailing to our usual spot past the Mailbox, and we decamp to partake of the night life there offered.