Knotted a proper Turk's head for the rail, first try in years

Took down the old line off the stern rail this morning — cracked and grey as a wet cigarette. Spent the afternoon with my fid and a coil of three-strand, working a nine-lead Turk's head around the rail where I used to hang the fenders. It's not perfect; one lead wants to lie deeper than its neighbours, but it holds, and my hands remember things my head forgot. Somewhere between the salt and the swearing it turned into a meditation.