THERE is no one quite like Dame Ellen MacArthur. Yesterday she reached Falmouth, the port she left 72 days before. She set off as a commoner, bristling with hope and ambition, she landed as a dame, a record-holder and one of the finest single-handed sailors to draw breath.
She crossed the finish line, between the Lizard and Ushant, late on Monday night. “I saw the light flashing. It was the first time I began to relax since I left the dock here,” she said. And as her back-up team boarded the boat and her task was officially complete, she was able to do the one thing she had been unable to do for all those days: sleep. The deed was done; yesterday was reserved for