Into the Murk

I don't know why I thought it would be fun to help out on the start boat for the Bass Rock Race. Still, I got to sound the horn as a 5 minute warning, then at 4 minutes, one minute (a long toot) and at the start. Squeal!
It was wet. And got wetter. Two of the boats dropped out within a couple of hours. One crew coming back for cocoa and a warm up, the other heading off to Queensferry for a bevvy.
As for me, I cycled home through the rain and then went to see the old bird for a chat.
Now the soaking evening is here, I'm off to the son's birthday swally. He's taken the jam pan and has plans to provide Sangria, egged on no doubt by his spanish flatmates. Hopefully they'll have sunlamps too.