Distant Wreck

I do like a Friday. The Friday paper. The Friday cycle about. The Friday pop into the yard*. The Friday sit out in the sun, late afternoon. 
Then a text from the Commodore. “Cameras now on-line caught you!” Gulp. What I’d been fearing. What to reply? “Keeping an eye on things", I pluckily reply and await the response. When it comes, a big phew from me…. "That’s good as long as it’s essential maintenance and checking xxx (his boat name here) I’m ok with it. Hope all well”
Latest Covid news: the Scottish Govt have launched a website asking for the public’s input to a framework (yawn) for decision making. No sooner is it launched than I'm in there, commenting plenty and giving a few upticks to suggestions to allow sailing and opening marinas etc.  And then I spot one which is actually “do not allow sailing.” Pourquoi you may well ask. Turns out he lives in Fleetwood and has a boat in Ardfern and his worry is that motoring up, he may pick up a virus on the way and infect the good folks of Ardfern! So he’ll “sit this one out” and "so should all the other stupid, selfish, short sighted sods who have supported the idea of getting sailing again.”
I’ve a better idea: you just stay in Fleetwood, son. 


* I took the very top of the mast off! Easier when it’s lying along the mast rack.