These lyrics sprang to mind yesterday morning as I was happily messing about on the little boat. My pal - the Hon. D. Fish is not one given to verbosity - in fact he is known in some circles as Monosyllabic Dave - was heard to grunt -"f-----g ell"
This prompted me to look up and there to my absolute admiration was a display of aeroaquabatics unfolding before my very eyes. My first thought was that this was something to do with the Windermere Air Display but I realised that is not for another week or so.
I always admired the way the old Pony Express riders mounted their galloping charges and so, having set the preamble, I will describe what followed.
A finger pontoon with the wind blowing onto it. Entrance 1 Westerley Centaur - fully crewed. A confident foredeck chappie with that air of authority denoting him to be the Skipper, is nonchalantly holding a line and standing on the rail ready to step with nimbleness and alacrity onto the pontoon.
Such was my assurance in the stance of the chappie that I returned to my messing about as this situation was so obviously not going to be a spectacle worth watching.
Cometh the aforementioned grunt from pal
Claymore looks up
Centaur doing a decent 4.5 kts under bare poles with a following breeze
Leaps the Skipper
Pad, Pad, Pad, Pad,Pad skips the Skipper along the pontoon with aforementioned in previous post, a grip on the gunwhale that would put Shard to shame.
Bow moves out from Pontoon, grip is not released, skipper moves out from Pontoon.
Skipper estimated 5'7" in height. Gap increases beyond 5'8"
Lightest of takeoffs from pontoon and most graceful of arcs described
For a time - such were the skills and willpower of Skipper that only the ankles became a tad damp.
Isn't gravity a bug-ger?
Claymore witnessed no more as eyes quietly filled with tears and convulsions overcame him.
Good to meet you Bob.
