The day's destination was somewhere near Southampton, a pretty little village surrounding an impressive boat yard to celebrate a long lost friend's wedding. The view of the boats was breathtaking, there is something awesome about the marina lifestyle, huge vessels with blacked out windows, gin palaces and fishing boats, the odd serious sailing yacht, a few dinghy's and everyone having a wonderful time. You can't help but smile around boats. I haven't always felt that way, childhood summers were spent sailing across the choppy Solent or against enormous waves on the way to the Isles of Scilly - vomit often swilling around the cockpit and eggs crashing to and fro in their egg boxes as my mum negotiated making omelettes in a storm 10. My introduction to sailing was in at the deep end should we say, but I have many happy memories of taking the dinghy ashore to the pub, rowing inadvertently into the Atlantic, jumping from the bow into freezing cold sea water and trailing your hands through the water to see phosphorescence.
It seems that A and P both have taken to boats. A couple of life jackets, a peanut dinghy (I know - what a fantastic name) and two proper oars and A got the hang of it after a a few minutes. They pulled their boat ashore as the tide was going out, rolled their jeans to their knees and squelched through the black mud, sea weed and dead crabs.
'When can we do that again mum? - that was the best thing ever!'