ZefenderMaster Practical

[tcm]

I am anxioulsy awaiting the results of my ZefenderMaster Practical which took place over the last few days in the south of france.

Zefender and the delightful Mrs Z arrived on Friday. I am fairly confident of the parts of the exam where we had to stay up eating and drinking very late, and I also managed not to go too bonkers when we had to change the shorepower plug whislt Mrs Z chucked some other plug parts overboard. I did eventually complete the manufacture of a plywood shark fin although i took rather a long time about it and had to beg some black paint from nearby boatfixy types.

During the course of the Saturday Mrs Z had a series of conversations with Emma, our crew person, to establish whether really we were complete idiots, and wouldn't she prefer to be on a sailboat, and if so, how about a 40' Bavaria in the Solent?

The final test was on Monday when Z set the anchor in a vary very jammed position somehow, and even that was unjammed with minimal damage within 10 minutes.

There's always something new to learn, and Mrs Z introduced me to the idea of being nice about other people's boats, rather than walking round the pontoons slagging off each vessel in turn. She also explained that it is quite acceptable to drink "water" from time to time, instead of beer or wine or more wine or rum, even after midday.

If I have failed it will probably be be where I was rather unadventurous in not slicing straight through the field of 60 or more racing sailyboats competing in the Tour de France de Voile. Couldn't they see we were trying to go for lunch?





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[zefender]

Re: Interim inspection report

Having arrived via sleazyjet and waited for the long stay carpark 'discourtesy' bus to arrive finally, I regret to announce that my report is somewhat incomplete. At this stage then, I can only publish background material and chapter headings. I am also writing this from The Priory to allow the liver to recover , so please bear with me, as I recount my arduous voyage of discovery.

Background
TCM foolishly invites Mr & Mrs Zefender for long weekend aboard small runabout in french speaking part of the world. Mrs Z spends months selling home made macrame pots at craft stalls to pay for expedition. Mr Z fills large bag with emergency rations of 'Old Shag', removes excessive compost from beard and plots passage to Stansted. Bit of a fight at check-in as dividers are confiscated, putting at risk entire flight since crew appeared to be wholly reliant on electronics and my offer of secondary fixes entirely ignored.

Arriving at the quay, our taxi driver started to grunt a little and hold himself in an unusual manner as we approached the curvaceous lines of TCM's boat. We sought to explain that we were not planning to go on a Med cruiseliner to Casablanca and he must have the wrong boat. He continued to grunt unpleasantly so we paid him the required 450 Euro for the 2 mile run and stepped out. Our worries about dodgy internet meetings were heightened somewhat when Mrs TCM insisted we take our clothes off. We were standing there in our birthday suits but with deck shoes on, expecting some kind of pressure hosing before being allowed on board but it turned out we got it wrong and it was only the shoes that needed to be taken off - created quite a big crowd though. Once on board, serious disorientation set in. Miles of maple and silk, wide teak planking (as if the boat needs to look bigger!), sound system to cause Mr Bang to divorce Mrs Olufson on grounds of envy - and two very butch metal things that apparently turn the propellors, rather quickly it seems. TCM's main daily problem seemed to be to decide from one minute to the next which switch to press - which generator to use, a passarelle here and a engine room blower there. Some of the 250 instruments even worked! Awesome is not an exaggerated adjective for it.

Imbibing liquid apart from water seems to be a very motery thing to do. I always put myself in 1st, possibly 2nd division in this department but I was clearly totally outclassed by some sparkling premiership performances. After a few of these, TCM fired a(nother) button and I expected to see people on the quay fleeing with blood pouring from their ears but no, its actually rather quiet, in a post-industrial sort of way. OK, the clever brown nosey bit now. TCM drives rather well the kind of boat that would,in close quarters, have most snorting valium at the very thought and, in an instant, we were in open(ish) water doing a sedate (for this vessel) 18 or so knots. Mrs Z starting saying nice things about the foredeck area, which was large enough to play a set or two of badminton on. I found a stout shackle and clipped myself in under a nearby cushion and accepted another offer of rocket fuel from Emma, crewperson extrordinaire. 40 minutes later, we were in anotherplace, possibly another town, country, even continent. This is where TCM demonstrated the right way and the wrong way to set up a kedge to lie onto the swell. This involved no buttons at all and was quite clever really. We also met some friends of the TCMs who were raggies, proving TCM's closet tendancies in this regard.

Soon, however, the wind had reached a life threatening F3 and it was time to move on to the next destination and another chapter altogether, as well as securing a pension for yet another Saudi.

I admit the anchor spinning episode but clearly the implement had never been out before so it was an unfair test. As for Mrs Z evangelising Emma to the ultimate superiority of sail, this was a not-yet-implementated mutiny plan, in recognition of Mr and Mrs TCMs' trenchant views on the comfort facilities of raggie vehicles. Emma has agreed to slowly introduce deck cleaning wonder-fluid to each ticture poured over the coming months. We also worked our pursuasive powers on the two TCM-ettes who are clearly far too bright (and thus proof that there's no such thing as inherited brainpower) to remain doggedly stinkie for much longer.

We, being raggies, have all the time in the world and wait patiently for the inevitable to happen. The full-on TCM conversion from diesel to wind.

Embarrassing piccies and more prose to follow – perhaps. Meanwhile….Nurse! Nurse!

PS - Actually a rather fab weekend, fab company, fab boat (despite unseamanlike lack of mast) etc

PPS Met Deleted User and Mrs Deleted User and Deleted User-ette too. V smart boat, but can't be nice about two stinkie boats in one day.









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