Lock up?

The club's socially distanced Flying Fifteen racing sorry, cruising in synchronicity is off to a cracking (literally in the case of Morgan vs Osborne, and Copestake vs (another) Osborne last weekend) start and the season, for all its uncertainties generally, could see a record turnout, numbers not seen on the water since the Flying Fifteen heyday.

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).

What is noteworthy is the appearance of a new racing mark at Otter Bank (named after the Capt HC Otter RN who first surveyed the area in 1849, unless anyone has seen any otters there recently).

We have to thank Paul for making it and more which are under construction at the factory and manufacturing complex formerly know as Peacock House.

The courses are now posted on the FF WhatsApp, which makes for no excuses unless your name is Morgan, in which case you will assume the second mark of the course is Otter, despite the rest of the fleet heading back to the starting mark.

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.

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