I was going to tell you all about going down in the scrum at the Hallaton Bottle Kicking yesterday, but then realised it was Tuesday, and therefore Find The Fault Day. So my heroic exploits on the side of a steep Leicestershire hill will of course have to wait. So, yet another boat picture. My experiences under sail are limited to getting my head bashed in (bit like yesterday) by a rapidly moving boom on Rutland Water, and thinking I was going to be unceremoniously swept down to Davy Jones' Locker from the decks of a Thames sailing barge in a gigantic squall off Brightlingsea. "Women, children, Unmitigated Bloggers first!". It's just that water never really agrees. Anything to do with me and my feeble attempts to swim are usually accompanied by someone running down a towpath or promenade shouting and waving a lifebelt. But I do like the idea of sailing, preferably with one of those big wood and cloth models you get in places like Aldeburgh, watching one of the children poke it about with a stick on the sailing pond while I read the Telegraph.
7 comments:
Good Morning Peter. Hmm, well, I'm not sure that all the sails are being filled from the same direction, but more crucially there seems to be sea anchor line stretched taut from the bow of the boat. When under full sail? With no bow wave or wake? It must be week-enders aboard.
Office 'the ship's cat, afore the mast' Pest.
You're up early Office Pest. You must be out in the garden digging up carrots to help you see so perceptibly. The card indeed does say: 'Sails should not be set with yacht at anchor.'
Where is everybody else? Still stuck in traffic jams on the A38?
Still puzzling! I'm not very good at these sailing ones.
Something non-nautical next week Caroline, I promise.
I remember when the anchor had become fouled, off the end of Clacton Pier, and there was no other way to break it out other than by "sailing it out". i.e. sailing her round the fixed point and exerting strain from as many different angles as possible You see,the boat wasn`t equipped with the luxury of an auxiliary so sails had to be set.
Perhaps the real fault then is that the cliffs aren't white, as English cliffs should be (unless stripey as at Hunstanton). Instead they seem to be obscured by an approaching Saharan sandstorm. Now, what part of the world could that be I wonder.
Are you spying on me Mr Ashley? Yes I have indeed been digging, turning over the vegetable plots, ready to plant the potatoes and set the seed for the credit-crunchy carrots.
From the colour of the clouds, it looks like something has just gone very wrong at Sizewell.
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