Flying Solo.

Certain logistical facts regarding Wendy being back in the water are proving to be a bit of a culture shock. Some of these are probably blindingly obvious to the knowing outsider. But in our haste to transform our vessel from a gracefully shaped lump of metal in a huge shed to her proper status as an actual floating boat in the big wide world we overlooked a lot, so a few basic lessons are being learned in a hurry. Jan kindly allowed me to climb the first mountain last weekend by granting me the use of Storebror’s RIB tender. I’ve driven it before, but only twice- and then briefly, and only under the watchful tuition of my employer. So my heart was in my mouth last Friday as the sun was setting and I found myself lowering the small boat into the water from the tug’s HIAB crane. After carefully making all the checks I could think of I started the recently serviced outboard motor, cast off, and opened the throttle extremely gingerly. I crawled across the river Itchen to a waiting Tim, and two fine steel vessels.
Over the course of the weekend I made three more short trips, one of which involved collecting Becky (!) and with each I learned something new, and I’m filled with the newly acquired knowledge that this pocket rocket must be treated with the utmost care and respect.

Thanks to Tim, and Jan, for providing me with some valuable insights in order that so far, I’ve not had to learn the hard way, mind you- there’s a first time for everything.


Other news this week is that the weather forecast is looking encouraging for taking Ms Ann round to Littlehampton on Wednesday. Not only am I nervous as all hell, but I’ve an awful lot of preparation to do, not to the boat itself, she’s as ready as she’ll ever be- but I’ve crews to organise, both for the actual trip, and to receive us on arrival, pilots and small workboats to arrange, and a myriad of other details, not one of which can be overlooked.

We live in interesting times indeed.