In Holyhead, North Wales, for the shortest stopover of the trip - only a few hours to draw breath. We got in at about 1pm and we sail again soon after 6pm. Time to use a land loo, get something to eat, and satisfy my blog-hungry readers. Then a short, sharp, overnight race to Liverpool, arriving at the mouth of the Mersey about 9am. Arrival at Albert Dock about 12:30pm. Tearful reunions at about 3pm after messing about on the river for a while.

I believe my blog-hungry readers found that The Shipping Blues had disappeared for a day or two. No idea what happened. Another interesting "feature" of the recent "upgrade" perhaps. Anyway, back online.

The race from Jersey was fairly mediocre. We came eighth. We had our usual cursed light winds for most of the time. Highlights were sighting the Lizard (our first glimpse of England since leaving) and an exciting final run into Holyhead this morning when Glasgow just pipped us to the line, while we beat Jersey.

The most boring part of the trip - the long trundle up along Cardigan Bay - happened during my Mother Watch sleep. Yes, despite promises to the contrary, MW reared its ugly head again. It wasn't too difficult, though. I shared with Fiona, who had a little more inspiration to cook than I had. She produced a fine Carbonara.

In general, the food has been good: I did the victualling for this race, so I made damn sure it was good: plenty of eggs, bacon and croissants for breakfasts, fresh milk and orange juice, and no tinned meat. Luxury cruising.

There was also a fair amount of final race booze consumed, which I felt went a bit OTT. Not that anyone got inebriated, but big powerful racing yachts are not a fit place to be sipping beers more than once a week.

I got a wee bit pissed off with some of the crew: there were people saying "Yeah, last race, let's go for it" and then sitting back enjoying the ride, beer in hand. Maybe I'm up tight.

The stopover in Jersey was relaxing, perhaps too much so. The locals laid on a great prizegiving night in Gorey Castle, complete with falconry display, costumed soldiers, and a male voice choir. Oh, and an archery lesson, which I though was a brave mixture with Clipper yachties and alcohol around. Nobody died.

And tomorrow it is over. My family are en route, and really I don't care about much else just now. From Monday, I help deliver the boat back to Gosport, but from then on it's just cruising.

I'm not sure how I feel about it all just yet. I think that will require a more considered blog than a quick few lines here. I do know that I feel less sense of achievement here than I did just getting across the Pacific. But I am very glad to be back in these waters. It is a lovely fresh summer day here in Holyhead. The wind is whistling through the masts and halyards in the marina, and there are green misty hills nearby. It feels like home. These are my latitudes, much more than the Tropics.

Plus of course, the Clan Mulvey is within arms reach of me now, and that feels best of all.