T_S
New member
I was involved in a race on the Thames estuary on Sunday, boat at times with gusts of around 30 knots was healed well over and the three of us thinking we should have put in at least one reef.
Good fun with the rescue rib blasting past us with film crew videoing the event to be shown later on tv in the club house. Unfortunately the video did not capture my right trainer going TOB and me cussing fowl words at the lost of my beloved shoe afloat on the Thames....my Skipper 'Mike' asks if he should go about to rescue my trainer! but with the look of anguish in his eyes I can instantly tell that he knows our position in the race is a strong one. I quench his question by assuring him it was only an old trainer and remove the other and toss that in too shouting "God bless those who sail in her!"! (hopefully this should comfort his concern) Personally I was gutted as the old Rebok trainers had seen quite a few ports and quite a few countries and you trainer freaks will know that this comfortable foot wear becomes very personal and grows on you!
Soon the worse of my loss was at the back of my mind crossing the finishing line 2nd place, sails were furled keel wound up and steaming for the mooring....when....a gust blew my 'Uncle Albert' demin cap into the drink, this time I insisted we go about and armed with the trusty boat hook I miss the first attempt of rescuing another part of my add on anatomy, on the second about it was sh<font color="black">it</font> or bust 'Uncle Albert' was now level with the surface, water logged and about to sink down to 'Davey Jones's' mud when to my horror me cap disappeared under the port beam, scurrying aft and waiting what would seem an hour up popped my hat.
A desperate lunge soon had 'Uncle Albert' well on the hook and safely aboard.
Later in the bar and a few chuckles it was down to farewells to everyone and a drive home in my Plastimo wellies! It amazes me how we are affected as humans by losing loved ones, I am now having nightmares that some Asylum Seeker found my trainers washed up at Tower Bridge and is training them to walk to a local DHSS or to Mile End station to beg or flog cheap B&Hs!
Good fun with the rescue rib blasting past us with film crew videoing the event to be shown later on tv in the club house. Unfortunately the video did not capture my right trainer going TOB and me cussing fowl words at the lost of my beloved shoe afloat on the Thames....my Skipper 'Mike' asks if he should go about to rescue my trainer! but with the look of anguish in his eyes I can instantly tell that he knows our position in the race is a strong one. I quench his question by assuring him it was only an old trainer and remove the other and toss that in too shouting "God bless those who sail in her!"! (hopefully this should comfort his concern) Personally I was gutted as the old Rebok trainers had seen quite a few ports and quite a few countries and you trainer freaks will know that this comfortable foot wear becomes very personal and grows on you!
Soon the worse of my loss was at the back of my mind crossing the finishing line 2nd place, sails were furled keel wound up and steaming for the mooring....when....a gust blew my 'Uncle Albert' demin cap into the drink, this time I insisted we go about and armed with the trusty boat hook I miss the first attempt of rescuing another part of my add on anatomy, on the second about it was sh<font color="black">it</font> or bust 'Uncle Albert' was now level with the surface, water logged and about to sink down to 'Davey Jones's' mud when to my horror me cap disappeared under the port beam, scurrying aft and waiting what would seem an hour up popped my hat.
A desperate lunge soon had 'Uncle Albert' well on the hook and safely aboard.
Later in the bar and a few chuckles it was down to farewells to everyone and a drive home in my Plastimo wellies! It amazes me how we are affected as humans by losing loved ones, I am now having nightmares that some Asylum Seeker found my trainers washed up at Tower Bridge and is training them to walk to a local DHSS or to Mile End station to beg or flog cheap B&Hs!
