The Start of less than great things

I needed a sail, but it was going to be difficult given the early high tide and the fact that there was a club race on at the same time. Difficult to sneak out. So I made the best of it and offered myself up as crew if anyone would have me. Ho, they almost tore me apart, such was the demand for my legendary winching. Anyway,  we were holding our own in second place till the skipper opted for a bit of goosewinging on the downwind leg just as the wind fell. As you can imagine that gennie just collapsed. Soon we were tussling it out for fourth. Lordy, Lordy.
Home to relax and lift some tatties from the bone hard ground. Tiny wee things. Mind you, they were just supermarket tatties which we’d kept too long and which found their way into the old rhubarb bed.
Then to the Depot – a tiny crowd to see Vic Galloway in conversation with Rick Redbeard. And yet we knew three of those two dozen people there. It’s a village, this place. A bit of a disappointment really – Rick was a bit awkward and didn’t really rise to the occasion. Or maybe he’s just not that interesting, despite his lovely voice and his gift for melody. Could that be? I mean, have you met me? Let me tell you about my tatties, Vic.