Sailing Orphans

When Mum was telling Diamond all about Dad going sailing on Friday, she referred to herself as a "Sailing Widow". On that basis we must be Sailing Orphans by now, as Dad is off sea-faring again. This time he blags his way on board SB Greta for her run from here round to Whitstable where she will (the Skipper hopes) be based right round to October enjoying a successful Summer of chartering.

Dad has to meet the barge at 09:00. They must shuffle ropes and un-bury themselves from behind SB Repertor before motoring gently down the creek to the Swale. It's a lovely warm sunny day with little breeze. That's OK with Dad because in these gentle conditions, Steve the owner-skipper trusts Dad with the helm as he and 1st Mate Rob hoist the topsail and drop a leeboard. Dad reckons he's about 8th Mate behind those two, various family members and the two dogs, Alfie and Ludo (who we've met).

Dad then gets to keep the helm all way down the Swale and Eastwards and then south (including a deliberate "dough-nut" allowing the topsail, which has to be on the starb'd side of the boat to be lowered, to get there with a southerly wind) till they are actually inside Whistable harbour mouth. With big solid walls looming and some jiggery pokery needed with an anchor dropped so that the barge can be swung round the anchor into the correct position for berthing port-side in (head to wind), Steve takes over, and Dad is only too happy to surrender the wheel!

All home safe and sound now - although Dad snuck off again to get some route directions for an upcoming 2CV convoy round Grove Ferry, Reculver and Sarre windmill.

It's all go round here (unless you're a dog!)

Deefski

Dirt Bikes

Not for any reason other than it's pretty, it's got Dad's 2CV in the picture and it's right near where his 2CV crowd are doing up their project car, Mademoiselle d'Armentieres; a picture of Sarre Windmill, in Kent

http://www.open-sandwich.co.uk/mills/sarre.htm

Look at that blue sky. That's how it's been here for the last couple of days - a good thing in some ways. not in others. "Not" when it keeps Dad away playing 2CV's without us, "not" when he disappears up to the allotment without us for hours digging (something about the havoc we create when allowed off the lead to rootle in peoples' compost heaps for mice , rats and hibernating hedgehogs, or trample all over their plots). Allegedly.

Good though when Dad manages to get off work at a sensible hour and there's hours of bright daylight for us to have a sensible walk across the Abbey Fields. The fields are within 5 minutes of our front door and the bone of much contention in the town. Bought off the local farmer(s) at least 13 years ago, by a developper - he has earmarked them for the usual thousand or so dwellings, but the locals have so far fought him off.

So the fields are abandonned arable land, gradually reverting to bramble and birch thickets, but kept nice and walkable by the passing of plenty of "herberts" on dirt bikes. Many locals seem to moan about the bikers, and I guess they can be noisy and just the odd one (usually the younger ones) can be a bit irresponsible with their speed and noise. But we've found the vast majority to be OK, polite and respectful of the fact that other people use the fields for dog walking. So, they get a huge playground to mess about in, we get an ever changing pattern of tracks where the passing of bikes has flattened or kept down the vegetation.

This fight between locals and developpers has dragged on now so long it's given Meg and Haggis superb walking territory, 5 minutes from the house, for all their long lives, and Dad, for one, is hoping it carries on that way fo my whole life and beyond. Saves using the car to get to the "countryside", anyway!

So we say fair play you (responsible) bikers. Long may your knobbly tyres keep our paths walk-able

Deefs