Sorry that there are bigger gaps between each post, I'm afraid I'm loosing the enthusiasm for it, and this has increasingly happened since I suddenly realised that in dog years, I'd be dead..
This has injected a certain urgency into my life. Blogging doesnt seem that important any more,
And as I drove to the dinghy exhibition with the boat on the roof and the car at 45 degrees because the friggin wind wouldnt go away I wondered how I'd look back on my Moth years. Would this latest effort be the great cresendo I had hoped? Or simply the end of a decent play, spoilt by a badly written third act?
So I was already slightly resentful and full of loathing when the show opended and some idiot wouldnt let me through a door despite it clearly saying "entrance" above it. And as he spat into his stupid microphone I nearly, very nearly broke his nose.
But then I bumped into Peter Thorpe, and my weekend changed. Peter was over from Australia representing CST. I last saw him in 1996 and he had an open wound on his cheek where a rose bush had been though it, a result of falling off the stage at Keil. We were racing in the Moth worlds at Ratzeburg and back then you rested on the race course so you could handle the evening...
Over the weekend Peter and I had a great time, He tried to put the fire out in my hotel that had everyone evacuated to the car park in their silver blankets. He cheered up a cold family in need of some smiles, he convinced an Eastern European taxi driver he really was driving an automatic, we ate lebanese, drank beer and reminised. I hope he will get a foiler moth soon. I know he'll be up there again. On the stage I mean.