Friday, 3 July 2009


It's my own fault for ignoring my instincts, but after five weeks of no wind, its starting to hurt.
With a sunny day contrary to the BBC forecast, the South Westerly breeze also seemed to be increasing. Normally, I make up my own mind whether its a sailable day, but when there has been a wind drought, the margin for error increases dramatically. Hence, with a heightened sense of wind-lust, I misinterpretted the general-public observation of 'oh its windy', and 'no its really windy' as being reliable.

Against my better judgement, I dropped everything to go for a windsurf. But, deep down I knew it was going to be iffy, and purposefully texted no-one. Nothing worse than rallying the troops and getting caught out; kind of leaves you in the hotseat.

Ignoring all the signs that suggested it was merely a gentle breeze, I did the walk of shame. As I climbed the pebble ridge, my heart sank as I realised it wasn't going to happen. I think this is when Laura snapped me at my moment of realisation.

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