Three boats down from the candy

evening all,

this year we felt was to be our year.

We had the manpower, we had the tools, we had the plan, we had the competitive fervour needed to propel us to victory,  we'd invested considerable time and effort......

we were ready.

the bag of sweets which was the top prize for building the longest burning volcano were as good as eaten.

Then, we drew pitch no:4,  the one closest to the onrushing sea, worst pitch on the beach.

There was a mutiny among the diggers, closely followed by a bout of structural indecision in the design team, the firestarters lost power to their nuclear blast furnace lighters, leaving them shooting sparks like caveman with flint and steel, and the firestokers got wet feet and retreated to the safety of the sand dunes.

The sea roared in, the title floated away like so much flotsam and jetsam.

we were sunk. Defeated, drowned in a morass of apathy and indecision.

So we all went to the pub to consider a plan for next year's event.

night all.


marillion