1930 hrs 12 June 2012
Going below on a yacht pitching and yawing at sea is an experience. First you have to negotiate the companionway steps which must be done with speed but not haste, lest you are pitched into the saloon below. Inevitably you will hit one of those beautifully rounded, but very hard, mahogany corners that adorn every cupboard, and surface. The impact on your body which you have honed to perfection by years of desk work will be painful, and provide another lasting memory.
Then you have to remove your lifejacket. Ours are the latest designer type from Spinlock. They are like one of those old parachute harnesses you see on fly boys in the old war movies. Ours are fully equipped with a whistle, a knife, a strobe light and an automatic gas cylinder. The knife is tastefully etched with the name “Enterprise” on it.
The crutch straps have to be stepped out of. So you gingerly shift your weight so you are on one leg, while at that very moment the yacht pitches and you fall – on to the seat – you smile at how you cleverly arranged that fall based on previous experiences of falling instead on to a mahogany corner.
Next, you must remove 3 layers of clothes that are crafted and engineered to remove sweat from your honed masterpiece. These clothes are of course expensive and have nice labels on them like Musto; Gill; Henri Llloyd and Dubarry.
Unfortunately, Jaz and I have rather less upmarket gear. Not for us the designer chandlery, or the outlet mall. No, we have the more "ma and pa" versions. Still functional, but they have probably seen too many spin cycles.
After this Biscay adventure I have promised Jaz she will be treated to one of the big name labels. I wonder if they will be warmer, more waterproof, or whether I will sweat enough to live up their formidable credentials.