Rolling About
Lowena
Michael & Amanda Dyer
Mon 26 Nov 2007 11:58
Back to me again. I hope mother dearest has entertained you during my brief intermission.
I write this whilst perched at the chart table, legs askew, doing my very best not to fall as the boat rolls between absurd angles. There's not an awful lot of wind. Probably just the right amount (15-20 knots) but with these infernal waves, the ride is certainly less than comfortable. It's just about bearable during daylight hours. It's cloudy, though warm, and sitting in the cockpit the motion of the boat reminds me of a rather too vigorous session on the playground swings – albeit one with an insensitive playmate. The one who only pushes harder if you ask him to stop.
Night, though, brings a different kind of torture. No matter how well you have stowed your cooking utensils/ food tins etc. there are at least ten that think that they would have been better suited in this world as percussion instruments. They roll, clatter, ting and rattle. All vaguely in time with the motion of the boat, though some are late (those who travel a distance before they percuss, sound like incompetent soldiers during drill practice). The unpredictability of the amplitude of the boat's motion creates a likewise unpredictable cacophony. Anyone who has ever heard someone snoring knows that this is the worst kind of sound. Lulled into a false sense of security by a temporarily silent period, the ensuing inevitable crash not only rouses one from demi-reverie, it makes one mad. Thus rendering further sleep impossible.
It's daddy's birthday tomorrow, and mother dearest decided to bake a cake. Needless to say it ended up on the floor as soon as it could escape the pressure cooker. I look forward to picking out the grit tomorrow.