We were excited, properly excited. We had done it, we held it together week after week, in cold, uncomfortable conditions and passed our instructors course. I think even the less experienced could have predicted what might have come next. We fell apart.
Saturday came and brought the first aid course, a compulsory part of the instructors course and the final piece of the jigsaw. Could we meet at 8.30am. Sorry, 8.30? Haven't you been reading my blog, I'm quite tired, I've been very busy and would quite like a lie in with a cup of tea and several rounds of Candy Crush. Sure I'll be there. Secretly I was looking forward to a few rounds of CPR and the recovery position. That mixed with a few chest thrusts, that always causes a few giggles had the makings of a decent day. It did, but I was tired and the afternoon was a more sedate affair with more class based work. The highlight ended up with the chance to save Tom after his motorbike accident. Phil controlled the procedure reading from his book whilst I lay on the floor holding Tom's head to much amusement all round.
Now there's Rich. He has been helping my son and his friend learn to sail their 29er. A quite frankly ridiculous boat. Rich has an insatiable desire for life, so despite my best efforts to meet at a sensible 1pm on Sunday, Rich was having none of it and we met at 9.30. My date with my bed was going to have to wait another week. Up, off and out we went. I didn't feel brilliant, my voice had pretty much gone and I was definitely tired.
Once the boys had been set in motion, Matt and I agreed to sail the 12 o'clock race together in the vision. We signed on, smirked and lept in the boat. We had a certain pride to maintain. Matt's daughter Abi was racing, as was William, George and Simon. We meant business, we discussed our start. We planned to fly over the start line, starting from way back and crossing as the starting gun went. The one minute gun sounded, we pulled our sails in tight only for the wind to die and we drifted over the start line in last place. Great.
We began to pick up speed and gain places until we sat in 2nd place, we were mightily pleased with ourselves and even congratulated each other on our fine sailing, course made good and all that. That was until a young boy named William took it upon himself to teach us the rules of the road. "Starboard" he shouted. Sorry, William, what happened to ladies first? "Starboard", the little grinning face repeated as he held his position firm and pushed us off course. So there are rules. I thought that Mother rules trumped all. I had hoped to shout our loud, "Your mother coming through, please keep clear". But no, it appears that isn't acceptable. Really?
We limped over the finish line, last, just as we started.
Were were pretty broken, our voices had finally gone as our glands throbbed. But we were happy. We sail because we love it and we love to support those around us. The sun did shine all day and now I'm finally off to bed to play Candy Crush.