This post is for those of you sitting back in bankrupt Ireland looking out the window at the rain traversing the country horizontally, I'm going to try to make things a little better by letting you in on a little talked about fact that these cruisers keep to themselves. The palm trees, the sunset cocktails and mile after mile of wind kissed downwind sailing; arse. That's it, absolute lies, conjured up by some magazine editor to sell more issues. Now before letting you all get too despondent let me add a wee caveat to this notice. It happens, there are the great days, there are sun-drenched beaches and as far as I'm aware the palm trees are still doing their thing, but, and this is the crux of the argument, but, at a stretch, that's about 10% of your time. To push it any further would be like saying you spent your entire two week holiday in West Cork basking in glorious sunshine, it can happen but how often? From whence does this argument spring forth? It springth forth from the inaugural meeting of the Cammeray marina gentlemen's club on Thursday night. Laani has fled West to spend some time with her friends and family before striking out on our adventure. Being a sociable kind of chap I invited John next door and Greg out on the mooring (this is how they are actually referred to) over for a few beers on Thursday evening. By midnight we had this cruising life boxed off and put a fair dent in a few beers and awful bottle of lime flavoured vodka thats been sitting around the place for over a year now. It all began when I innocently said something along the lines of 'I can't wait until we are actually going and I can start enjoying the sailing and not spend every day adding jobs to a never increasing list'. This statement brought forth raucous laughter from both John and Greg who, with many many cruising miles and a couple of Pacific crossings under their respective belts, eventually managed to wipe the tears from their eyes and stop laughing for long enough to explain that it never stops, in fact this is considered by some the easy part. As they pointed out, I know where the chandlery and nearest hardware shop is, I know where the supermarket is, I've a fair idea how much something should be so know if I'm getting a good deal or being taken to the cleaners. All this is gone as soon as you slip the marina and head for new waters. Feckin marvellous. With abandoned glee Greg rejoiced in telling me how, after just completing an 18 month trip from the UK to Australia, the jobs list is bigger than ever and is still growing, by his reckoning the list is a small as its ever going to be just before setting off. Well that's me screwed.
I would write more but you see there are a few jobs I need to attend to. At some stage I'll bore you with the never ending paperwork, admin and bureaucracy involved in something as simple as sailing from one country to another. Then there are the funnier stories like when Jack Nicholson rocked up the survey the boat for registration, the head off him, I swear. Until then I'll get back to work and I suggest all those in Ireland do likewise and sort that country out before I get back there.