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The UK went into full lockdown on Monday 23 March.  Our plan had to be put on hold. 

With the contract signed and deposit paid for the purchase of “Cerulean of Penryn”, we now had to wait until the lockdown was over so we could arrange the survey and sea trial.   In the meantime, we asked to be put in touch with the boat’s current owner, Richard, as we had numerous questions to ask so we could start to understand what we were taking on!  

We called Richard during the first week of lockdown.  He was very willing and extremely keen to talk about the boat.  Having recently returned from a 12 month round trip to the Caribbean, Richard had some valuable and interesting experience to pass on.  They had also kept a website, blog and facebook page of their travels, which we eagerly read as it contained detailed information of work, improvements and repairs carried out over the four years of their ownership.   After talking to Richard for over an hour, we finished the conversation feeling even more certain we had made the right choice with our decision to continue with the purchase.    For now though, there was nothing more we could do to move forward with the sale, except wait as we had made it clear we would not proceed until we could be present for the survey.

We were still living at Paul and Wendy’s in Acton, who had very generously thrown open their doors, lives and arms to welcome us into their bubble.  As with most other British people, both their jobs were affected, particularly Wendy’s, who owns and a café in Shepherds Bush.  By the weekend it became clear that the lockdown was going to last much longer than the initial three weeks the Government had announced and we started to consider how we could make the lockdown easier for all of us. 

Over the first lockdown weekend, we borrowed a couple of bikes and cycled into the central London on a bitterly cold afternoon.  It was an odd and surreal experience to cycle along empty roads and take in some of the sites of the city.   Notting Hill, Park Lane, Marble Arch were deserted – only mad cyclists would usually consider riding around Marble Arch, but we virtually had the road to ourselves.  We continued to Buckingham Palace and The Mall.  A man and his young daughter stood with us at the gates of the Palace and watched the guards marching in front of the building with an audience of four looking on.  The young girl had been so excited she had left her bike on its stand, in the middle of the roundabout – I wonder if she understood this could be the only time in her life that she would be able to do that!

We continued our bike ride down The Mall and into Trafalgar Square.   The usually busy square was virtually empty of people, except for a couple of policemen who obviously shared our amazement at witnessing this scene as they were taking photos of the deserted monument.   We biked to the front of the National Portrait Museum and drank in the site before agreeing to head towards Westminster Cathedral and start our return journey along the river.    Well, that’s what we intended to do, anyway!   I took off first, lazily biking along the paved area behind Trafalgar Square while Steve tried to warm up his hands, as I had nabbed the one pair of gloves!   As Steve peddled to catch me up, he was immediately stopped by a couple of policemen sitting in a car enjoying the empty scene in front of them.    I witnessed Steve being stopped and (I swear this is true….) had a conversation in my head which ended with me deciding to let Steve deal with their questions on his own…!   My reasoning was that I thought his kiwi accent may buy him some grace…  I was wrong, although he was not quite hauled off to the Tower (that would have been a great place to see though….), he was told in no uncertain terms that, if we continued to head to the river we would be issued with an immediate fine and were instructed to return home immediately via the road.

This meant going via Leicester Square, Chinatown, Tottenham Court Road and Paddington before biking alongside Hyde Park and back to Nottinghill, Shepherd’s Bush and Acton.   Not a bad alternative to the river and everywhere we looked felt like we were biking through a ghost town!  

It took me a couple of days to have my epiphany!   When we returned from France our original plan had been to head to Cornwall and spend time with my sister, Bea and, if necessary, remain there for the lockdown.  As things turned out, this was not possible, but Bea’s son, Piers and his family had managed to get down there.   It took me a while to realise that this meant Piers’ house in Watford was empty, so I suggested to them that we could housesit while they were away.   They were very willing to allow us to do this and it seemed the perfect scenario – giving Paul and Wendy back their home and giving us space for the indeterminate length of time we would be in isolation.

Wendy kindly drove us out to Watford and donated some much appreciated bags of food, including flour which was impossible to find in the shops.    Piers and Jenni have a lovely home on, what is usually, a busy main road, just outside Watford.  There is a small back garden which is paved with climbing plants on both sides of the courtyard. 

Over the next few days/weeks we explored the area, going for walks, shopping and getting to know the neighbours.   Every Thursday evening at 8pm we joined the rest of the street in clapping for the NHS.  Each week more people joined in, cheering, banging pots and blowing horns as the street erupted in a cacophony of noise for one minute.   It was a heartwarming experience and always brought a smile and wave from neighbours across the street and nextdoor.

As days turned into weeks and weeks into months our frustration and impatience started to grow.  It was exasperating to go for a walk and see people blatantly ignoring the social distancing requirements – gathering in groups, playing football or catching up with friends in the park.   As numbers of daily deaths continued to escalate to over 600 per day the death toll of the virus had now outstripped the number of Londoners killed during the Blitz over a shorter period of time.  We had stopped leaving the house unless it was for essential shopping, preferring to spend our time gardening, building a website for my uncle or studying instead of trying to dodge what seemed like the inevitability of contracting the virus.   Our lovely neighbour, Lawrence, helped Steve attack the hedging plants and I planted herbs and gathered seeds to start a small vegetable garden.  The weather was fabulous and we enjoyed a few weeks sunning ourselves in the small garden enjoying the unusually warm spring weather.

I started studying for my YachtMasters certificate, soon realising I didn’t know as much as I thought, but learning lots and enjoyed the challenge and learning process.

As we approached the last day of April we decided it was time to put a stake in the ground and plan for the next step in the boat purchasing process.   As soon as restrictions start to ease, all yachties will want to get their boats in the water and salvage what will be left of the short sailing season, and we did not want to be left at the back of a long queue of boats wanting to be launched.   We decided to pencil in the boat survey for Friday 5 June and arrange for the boat to be splashed as soon as it was possible.   The surveyor agreed to start inspecting the boat in early May and we arranged for an engine survey as soon as we splashed.  After talking to the boat owner, Richard, again we organised a sea trial for 6 June and had another good chat with him about the boat. 

So, things are progressing, all be it slowly.  We both feel excited about what is to come in the next few weeks and look forward to continuing our journey in an attempt to keep the dream alive.

Following our rushed trip to France our mind was made up.  We had found our boat.  The more boats we saw, the more we were convinced the Seastream – Ceruleum – was the right boat for us.  However, with everything in chaos and countries closed, was it the right time to proceed?  

Once again, it was time for us to have a serious talk about our plans!  This seems to be a regular occurrence as everything is changing so quickly.   The outcome was that we would proceed with the purchase but for everything to be put on hold until after the lockdown, which at this point had not been announced yet but was obviously imminent. 

Our broker had remained in regular contact, although he was now in The British Virgin Isles overseeing a refit on a storm damaged boat.   He had previously sent us a contract which we had refused to sign as it contained deadlines which we felt were unreasonable in the changing environment we were now in.    We had chosen our broker due to a recommendation on a YouTube channel I had watched who said it was a good idea to employ a broker that works for you, not the vendor and they can navigate you through all the processes and legal requirements when purchasing a boat overseas.   This seemed like a good idea as we wanted someone on the ground, working for our best interest.  When the day came for us to start negotiating on the purchase for Ceruleum, he asked us for a price band to give him the freedom to start negotiating low and bargain hard for us.   A few days later he informed us that he had secured Ceruleum at our maximum price braclet.  We were not too concerned about this as we felt we were still getting a great boat at a good price. 

A few days later our broker called us and said he was sending the contract and invoice for a deposit.  He said the contract stated we were paying £4k less than he had told us as the selling broker would not split the commission with him.  He was therefore passing that cost onto us.   We were a bit confused but we had secured the boat for a price well within our budget and didn’t think too much about it – on reflection a silly mistake. 

We allowed the boat purchase to slow down as we were concerned about the changing effects of Covid-19 and how this was going to disrupt our plans.  We certainly didn’t want to commit to purchasing a boat and then discover we were unable to sail anywhere in her and be left with large marina fees in the process.  Once we heard that other people were viewing her, we needed to make a decision and asked our broker to arrange for the contract to be changed to reflect the current situation and adjust the length of time stated between signing the purchase agreement and arranging a survey/sea trial.  

Due to our broker being in the British Virgin Isles, we talked directly with Sam from Ancasta, the selling broker.  On the Monday, Sam arranged for a revised contract to be drawn up and we were happy with the wording.  I told Sam I was convinced we would go into lockdown by Wednesday so wanted to delay the surveyor inspection until later in the week.

We went into lockdown that night!

Tuesday morning we received a call from Mike, our broker’s boss.  He informed us that he had just fired our broker due to some discrepancies in accounting practices.  Basically, it transpired that our broker had asked us to pay all monies for the boat directly to him, and not Ancasta.  

Buying a boat is similar to buying property – you strike a deal, sign a contract, pay a deposit.  The deposit is held in a trust account, which the broker legally has to have to keep the money safe for both the purchaser and vendor.  It transpired that our broker was not using a trust account, but was asking us to pay the money into his newly formed company account.  As he was now in the British Virgin Isles, I shudder to think what could have happened if we had paid the deposit as he instructed.

Sam and Mike were both hugely apologetic and assured us everything could proceed as normal now, just not with the original broker involved.  Fortunately we had signed nothing and had no financial commitment to anyone at this stage.   We were then informed that, in fact, Ancasta had agreed to split the commission with the broker, so he was hoping to be paid twice!  The positive to all this is that the price we were now paying for the boat has reduced by £4k!

We felt a little bruised and gun-shy as we looked over the contract.  Was the universe trying to tell us something?!   We had another HandS downloading session and decided this was still the right boat, it was just the wrong man who had been involved.   It was time to move forward!

Our broker met us on board CoP as we were lifting floorboards, looking in the bilges, opening cupboards and inspecting the flexiteak decks.  Our first impressions were even better than we were expecting.  The layout, space and quality of fittings were excellent and we tried to contain our excitement as we continued to explore above and below deck.   While there were areas that needed attention we felt none of them were unsurmountable. 

We left CoP with a sense that we had found our benchmark – now all the other boats we had arranged to view needed to meet the standard set by her.  

We spent the rest of the afternoon and the next morning looking at boats – a Freedom, Najad, Swan and Oyster 42.  I really liked the Oyster 42 but the owners had just accepted an offer on her so she was out of contention. 

We met the brother of a good friend for lunch in a pub by the water in Lymington.  Mike and Ali had met while both participating in the Clipper round the world challenge.  Mike now does repairs and preparation work for Clipper and both were keen to hear about our plans as we were keen to hear of their experiences living on and racing a boat around the world. 

On returning to London we dropped off our hire car at Shepherds Bush and made our way through rush hour buses to meet friends, Tina and Andy, in a Chiswick pub.  Along the way we bumped into a security guard who had helped us with directions the previous day and here we were, wearing the same clothes, pulling the same cases with the same determined and slightly anxious looks on our faces.  He gave us a quizzical nod as we strode past and must’ve wondered whether we were still lost or just odd – (almost certainly the latter!).

Tina and Andy had managed to get hold of the key for Jocs’ apartment.  Jocs is another family member who was holidaying with her partner, Dave, in Mexico.  Jocs’ 13 year old daughter, Bella, had been in the flat to put clean sheets on the bed so we were able to drop into bed when we arrived – exhausted from the drive and still suffering the effects of jetlag.

We woke up early on Friday morning and scoured the news. The only news was about the spread of Covid19 (Coronavirus) and the different ways countries were handling the pandemic.   As more and more cases were being reported in Europe each day we started to understand how this could derail our plans unless we acted fast.  We felt we had little choice but to continue as planned until we were told, or forced to stop.  With no income and time ticking, we needed to continue our search for the perfect boat, regardless of whether we may believe we had already seen her.  It would be foolhardy to dismiss the other boats we had spent months researching when we knew there were good options for us to look at in France, but was it crazy to head to France when the Covid19 situation was worsening daily? Knowing what we know now, we would not make the same decision, but at the time the information was so sketchy so “boxing on” seemed the right thing to do.

Fortunately, my sister lives in Paris so we talked to her about what would happen if France/UK locked down while we were there and made loose arrangements if that situation arose.  We felt a false sense of security as we boarded our EasyJet flight to Marseille on Monday afternoon.   London was still busy with the tubes, trains and buses not noticeable less crowded.  There was only one moment of concern when Steve was delayed at the boarding gate when an airline staff member questioned whether someone travelling on a New Zealand passport was allowed to enter France.  He attempted to make a phone call to check, but no-one answered and, with me telling him it was fine, of course a kiwi can board the flight, he handed back Steve’s passport and let us through! 

Marseille was warm with clear blue skies which was a welcome temperature difference to London which was still experiencing winter temperatures and gloomy skies!   We collected a hire car, which only I was authorised to drive.   It takes a while to retrain your brain into driving on the right side of the road and changing gears with your right hand – well it took my tired brain a while.  I think the car hire company staff must’ve watched us slowly leave the car park and wondered whether they had unleashed a lethal weapon onto the Marseille streets!

We arrived in Marseille city centre and were surprised how busy it was.  The streets were full of cars and people were milling around, however no restaurants, bars, shops or cafes were open.  France had started a lockdown of businesses to try and contain the spread of the virus.  Our apartment was on the 4^th floor of a five floored building overlooking an historic square which would normally be bristling with activity in the many restaurants that spilled onto the paved piazza.   The square was silent with the only people walking through usually wearing a face mask. 

We had left the car in an underground car park and walked to the apartment carrying our bags.  As we came close to the old port, a number of vans pulled up and, what looked like, an army of heavily armed, burly men wearing a dark blue padded uniform, jumped out and started patrolling the streets.  

It was hard for us to get an update on what was happening and we received mixed messages on whether the city/country was in lock down or not.   Having no definite confirmation one way or the other, we decided to continue with our planned meetings at Port Napoleon Marina, about a one hour drive from Marseille.

Port Napoleon is located off a long straight road, splattered with roundabouts.  The turning to the marina is easy to miss (I did), and then another long straight road which felt like it was leading us into a deserted backwater of truckyards rather than a large marina.

We met with two brokers, Sam and Philippe, who showed us the boats we were particularly keen to see.  Philippe was extremely knowledgeable and, in between him taking urgent family calls, he passed on a lot of information about the boats he was showing us and the process around buying in France.  He also explained that the country was in lockdown from mid-day – it was now 1.00pm.   Alarmed, we discussed where that left us.  Philippe calmly told us not to worry that, as long as we had the correct paperwork we would be fine, and he would give us the correct form.   Armed with this, we set off back to Marseille, happy that we had achieved what we set out to do! 

We returned the car to the airport and caught a bus into the city.   The city was deserted with more cars than people moving around and police questioning drivers as they drove through the centre.  They didn’t take much notice of us as we passed by with a baguette in our hand and headed to the apartment, which is where we stayed for the rest of the night, not daring to venture outside again onto the empty streets.

The next morning we left early to walk to the train station in plenty of time to catch the fast train to Paris.  On the way we waited to cross the road and a small car, packed with four burly men, drew to a halt in front of us.  The driver, dressed in casual clothes, identified himself as the police and asked us where we were going.  In my rather broken French I explained we were going to the train station to catch a train to Paris.  He looked at us quizzically and, probably realising it was useless asking us too much more, said as he drove away, “Don’t stay too long on the street”.    We were still not sure if they really were police or just vigilantes but we walked quickly to the station, only stopping to buy bread and croissants for the journey as we had been told the buffet car would be closed.   The train station was quiet and, due to a surprising lack of chairs, we perched ourselves on some tables, well away from anyone else.  There seemed to be no trains arriving or leaving in the hour we waited for the platform number to be displayed on the large board.  While we waited, several uniformed and muscled police officers walked past and stopped people at random to ask for papers.   They were closely followed by a small brigade of very serious looking soldiers in army fatigues carrying large machine guns as they walked through the station.  It was very intimidating but showed the seriousness of the situation.

We were relieved to get on the train and found our reserved seats on the top deck of the express train to Paris.   The train was full and, although passengers did try not to sit together, it was impossible in our carriage.

My sister, Judy, met us at Gare de Lyon.  It was wonderful to see her at the gate but we were not able to hug or touch one another (particularly in public), so hopefully the excitement of seeing her showed on our faces.  Judy led us through the deserted metro and trolley bus back to her house in the 20^th arrondissement in NE Paris.  It was great to see Jean-Paul when we arrived and be able to introduce him to Steve by the banging of forearms together! 

We had a good sleep and woke to a warm morning with clear skies.  We decided the best thing for us to do was to return to London as soon as possible, in case the UK closed their borders to foreign nationals.   Although I have a UK passport, Steve doesn’t so it would have caused a whole lot of other issues if he was refused entry!

We booked an EasyJet flight leaving Paris for Gatwick at 4pm but decided to give ourselves plenty of time to get to the airport, just in case of any travel issues on the metro and train.   Judy walked us to Porte de Bagnotlet Metro station and made sure we bought the correct tickets.  With excellent directions in our hand, we said goodbye to Judy after a visit that was far too short, so she could return home to conform with the country lockdown.  

All the stations and trains were eerily quiet and we arrived at Charles de Galle airport about 40 minutes later.  The airport was deserted.  We had no luggage to check in so we continued through security to wait the 2hrs for our flight to leave.   On checking the departure board it showed our flight was delayed 30 minutes.   In the departure area we headed towards our gate – a comfortable looking lounge caught our eye and, thinking this would be a perfect place to wait, we made ourselves at home entertaining ourselves doing cryptic crossword puzzles.   Time passed quickly …. A little too quickly, and the next time we looked at our watch, we realised there was not much time to get to the gate as the flight was due to leave in 30 minutes.  It soon became apparent we had not heard any announcements while enjoying the comfortable lounge.  

When we started walking, it became clear the gate was not as close as we had originally thought and we still had to clear through passport control – easy for me, but a little longer for Steve.   Once through we started running – the gate lounge was in front of us but deserted apart from two EasyJet staff.   We announced our arrival and they informed us we had missed the flight – even though it was displayed as delayed, “It had left early” the man informed us with a “couldn’t care less” shrug! 

I have to say, how we handled this news was a credit to us both!   Our initial disbelieve, self-flagellation and despair soon turned into action and planning our next move!  We stuck together and worked through it as a team.  It would’ve been easy to blame each other, get angry at EasyJet and dissolve into a quivering puddle on the floor but there was no point.  If we wanted to apportion blame, we need look no further than ourselves, so it was best to just get on with it and find out what our options were going forward.

We booked a later flight, leaving in just under two hours, and waited beside the gate – we weren’t going to make the same mistake again!

Back in London, life was very different.  The airport was busy, the train, station and streets were full of people.  It was such a contrast to France, I found it difficult to comprehend.  We were all supposed to be fighting this virus together, but there appeared to be a huge difference between countries and how the Governments were choosing to react to it.  Instead of acting early and avoiding a huge spike in illness and death, the UK Government seemed to have taken the route to delay taking significant action until the number of those infected has increased.  Here we were in London where all shops, cafes and pubs were open, public transport packed and roads still very busy. 

Paul and Wendy, were now out of isolation and warmly welcomed us into their comfortable home in Acton.   Gradually London closed down.  First the pubs, cafes, restaurants and entertainment centres; next libraries and leisure centres; then all shops except supermarkets, chemists and banks and eventually a complete lockdown to prevent movement.

Prior to the lockdown, we had considered our options.  We considered returning to NZ but with no home, jobs or place to self-isolate, we ruled this out.  We had hoped to head to Cornwall and spend the lockdown with my sister Bea and her family, but with pleas from the Cornish communities to stop a further huge influx of people who had headed to Cornwall, we felt we would be adding to the problem.  Our only option was to stay with Paul and Wendy – great for us, but how would they feel? 

Fortunately they were in agreement and continued to be welcoming and fantastic company – hopefully they’ll feel the same in three weeks time!