Ever Decreasing Circles

JT: Lovely weekend for it  

Pogo lady: yes, lovely weekend.  

JT: are you going anywhere nice? 

Pogo Lady: I think we'll head over to the pub in Cowes, and you? 

JT: Oh we're going to head out of here, turn left then right a bit and just keep going until we get bored and come back again. See you at the bar on Sunday?

It's that time of year already when we have to knuckle down and do a few things to prepare for the first race of the year, actually my only planned race of the year (there will be more, I just don't plan far ahead normally)

Sue popped round to say hello and since the weather looked quite nice, we thought it a good time to nip out to get our qualifying passage done for the Yachting Monthly Triangle race. It's not particularly arduous at only 125 miles, but finding the time where we were both available and the weather was ok is the hard part.

Before we set off Sue made a rough passage plan and then suggested we use the log to...

no wait, Sue, the thing is, erm, my log, well, I haven't got one. Well, I have, but it's at Raymarine still. I forgot to get it back from them. Yeah I know, I took it there last October...

so we had to tot up the miles the modern old fashioned way using GPS lat and long, join the dots and measure it on a paper chart.

Sue, completely unfazed by my apparent lack of essential equipment didn't so much as bat an eye and just started a comprehensive hourly note taking and log book routine. 

And for once I was chef rather than heater-upper. Though, I'm no Steven Seagal...

bye bye Solent, we are finally out of it's clutches with a bit of help from the iron sail. 

must remember to replace that top batten...

sunrise amidst the shipping

chasing the wind meant we generally had a decent speed most of the time. But it did mean we went around in circles. 

the plant (on the left of shot in a cut off vittel bottle) I have fondly called Seymour is just a plant based creature that refuses to die. It came as part of a bunch of flowers a year ago and has continued to grow and sprout new growth in just a water container without soil. When faced with something so resilient, I can't help but admire it despite it's ungainly appearance. It's a fighter. I love a fighter. 

The dog assumes his primary position. On a bunk, near a cushion. His night shift involved cuddles for nearly 2 hours on, 2 hours off.  

if you look carefully, you'll see our meandering course. We had a lovely time with the shipping in the night. 

So, that's us done for the moment. we'll be back to talk proper nonsense in the near future. 

erm, wait a moment... A word from the figure head

whoa whoa whoa, not so fast there, I think you'll find I'm the spokesperson around here when there's the need for a third voice.

"I don't know what's going on here, but at no point above do I see any mention of being honked at by that massive ship leaving the Solent because dipstick one and dipstick two failed to make their intentions clear to the myopic watch of the bridge, like pointing me at the fort wasn't clear enough, or Sue having a minor moment of "ee bygum there's a lotta ships in the dark" and I've seen no mention of the chaos of re-entry to Portsmouth Harbour (3 ferries coming in, 1 ferry going out, two tugs escorting a ship in, a floating dredging raft blocking half the entrance and Jayne almost breaking a sweat)

No mention of Sue being passive aggressive to the little tupperware that completely pretended Boogie Nights wasn't there and no mention of the scrappy mooring offered by Jaynes cack-handed berthing skills.

but hey, I won't mention it if you don't ay ladies? You don't mind me calling you both dipsticks do you?  

Do you?  

Hey, where's my arrival beer?"