Middle Pier

A day sailing Wayfarers, and no howlers to report. I should explain that my wry amusement with H's mishaps on the previous days is largely due to the nature of the chap. Several decades serving HM Forces have left a deeply serious man who rarely smiles and who is given to barking commands at yours truly. His wife refuses to sail with him. "Captain Bligh, is what she calls me", he morosely complained at the start of the course.
Actually, he's not bad, but you can't help a snigger when he slips on his erse on the poop deck.
And it turned sunny - so good I headed into town for a glass of wine with an auld pal. World Cup tomorrow! And the next day, and the next ... and the next...