Eight boats, and to be precise, eight competitive boats are now cavorting around the loch of a Friday, Saturday and even Sunday (those of us who don't go to church).
Of club news in general, there's not much to report. The club is still closed, the shed lock has been changed (someone messed with the combination, and it had to be cut off). Donald alone has the Key to the Underworld, in whose dark recesses lurk strange objects of dubious worth, the odd Seagull outboard, many pots of solid paint, rope, fenders etc.
The club house roof has still to be fixed, but never fear, it's not going to fall on your head, and someone has been tasked to expedite things (which usually means nothing's been done). But who needs a clubhouse when we have boats to sail and the water upon which to sail?
This post was suggested by the Commodore, by the way, as nothing much has been said since lockdown, but then there's little to be said.
Other than, if you do go down to the Wee Pier today, please keep your distance. It is by no means over; young people are now being hit hardest; your best friend might well be the one who kills you and, as Janey Godley says (or should that be Nicola Sturgeon?) WEAR A F***ING MASK.