Trekking across the middle of the Island from Freshwater arriving in East Cowes, we found the tide out and the fantastic sun (something for which the Island is not commonly known) baking the mud and producing a pungent aroma that put me in mind of Pompey, and in particular Grotport. I put these nasty thought from my mind and we started off for the Chain Ferry (or Floating Bridge as Puppa used to call it) and the heady mixture of beer and upper class tossers that is Cowes itself.
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