Half Mast

A note first thing from the Commodore that old Jack had died. Not unexpected, after his illness, but a sad one - he was a huge figure in the club with his booming voice; he’d been a policeman, dare I say it when that required you to be of a certain stature. But that somehow doesn’t explain his largeness. A club legend, he is amusingly immortalised in the Epilogue of Nick Thorpe’s book, Adrift in Caledonia.  And he was such a friendly guy - he’d been a great help when I joined the club ten years ago. I’ve popped an extra in of when he came out for a sail with me in 2014. 
Anyway, Tam popped over to lower our shabby flags to half mast, as I saw later when I errr umm, was passing (the windspeed recorder is working!!!). Later I managed a cycle about - up to the Beerhive for my Wednesday night tipple. After selecting a couple of cans and bottles, the guy pointed out his Kegerator (the only one of its kind in Scotland apparently) and offered to fill me a 500ml bottle of their Tempest New World IPA - bottles are free, he said. Why not sez I, and he starts filling away. How much are they, I ask. Five pounds he says, quite good value really. He must have seen the Brompton parked outside.