Firstly, the Swedish boys are safe after a bit of (one hell of) a pounding and some significant breakages. They had youth on their side and now have a story to tell in bars across the world about leaving Beaufort, North Carolina in dodgy conditions and being pitched about like a drunk pole vaulter in a malfunctioning washing machine
I have become that character in a Two Ronnies sketch this week, the one who continually confuses their words. My week has been mostly stood on a trellis removing old varnish or painting new in its place. When I say trellis, I don’t mean trellis at all. I mean platform or at a stretch, trestle, but the word trellis is etched in the front of my brain and no amount of sand papering will rid it from my vocabulary. Perhaps I need an Australian cricketer to help. Sorry, American people, you won’t understand that.
My great Aunty Gladys was a legend and occasionally confused words too. When the video player was a new fangled addition to households up and down the country, she bought one. It never played video tapes as far as I am aware. She didn’t know how to use the machine. It was the most expensive digital clock you could buy. But the best bit was her name for this contraption. She called it her ‘vi – day – o’. Classy.
For you boaty people, I will share with you the list of jobs we have ticked off being here when we are floating in the water. Not before. After another week and a half of delays because the main engineer here was off sick, things are moving again and our mast may be vertical on Friday after a long rest in the horizontal position. Fingers, toes and trellises crossed.