This morning there was a gentle tapping on the hull.
I climbed out of the companionway and peered over the side in the drizzly rain to see Matilda in her dugout canoe. Matilda is a bit of an institution on the Rio. Every week she paddles upstream in her coverted log with a basket of freshly baked coconut rolls.
She's wrinkled and brown with a long grey plait of hair down to her waist and twinkly eyes. Difficult to age her she looks as old as the hills but in reality is probably younger than me. Certainly fitter as her short frame leans into the heavy wooden paddle ploughing her way through the currents of the river.
I buy a bag of rolls. She prepares the coconut herself, makes and bakes the bread and then undertakes boat deliveries. Wherever we are, anchored or marina bound Matilda finds us. I buy half a dozen, once I bought none and couldn't live with the guilt...
It's a bit of a different experience from popping down to Tesco's for a packet of croissants!