Friday, 2 August 2019


I didn't sail last weekend. Just the one gig, but a Saturday night, so it put paid to any chance of heading down to Plymouth and Calstar; Dad really doesn't like going down and coming back same day, but with two and a half hours drive each way I guess I can't blame him.

The kids came around Sunday. All three of them in the house at the same time, that hasn't happened for a while. Although it was the pitiful, painful state of my arm, specifically my right elbow at the moment, that stopped me from heading down to the lake to sail. The dermatitis was also a consideration, and the thought of reigniting it with fresh dunking; it's much, much better now than it was, but not entirely cleared up yet.

They cleared the weed out from the centre area of the lake last week. Tonnes of the stuff. That's given us a clear patch in the middle where we can race. It might have mitigated the snail problem that's triggered the allergy I've previously mentioned and turned the greater mass of my skin's surface area into an inflamed nightmare that's plagued me for a couple of months now.

Unfortunately, the only way to find out would be to try it and see. I'm generally not adverse to controlled risk or calculated odds, but I really don't know how I feel about that. Interestingly, I've asked around, and nobody else at the Club has had this problem. Which is a good thing, but leaves me feeling somewhat isolated.

Misery likes company. Selfish, I know.

Anyway, back to last Sunday's gardening leave. My daughter Tash decided she was going to attack the overgrowth of the back yard with a set of pruners. She did a fine job, taking out whatever demons were driving her on a rampant Virginia Creeper that had taken over most of the shrubbery on the right hand side of the garden. It is, to my pleasure and relief, pretty much totally gone now.

Although I expect it'll grow back. Such is the nature of the beast.

Ben and Sam between them decided to drag out the old metal incinerator from the shed and incinerate the dried out cuttings of last year's overgrowth. I say overgrowth, but that's a bit of an understatement; last year I had to use a chainsaw to clear the worst of it. Boys and fire, somethings never change. It kept us both warm and entertained for most of the afternoon and well into the evening.

With three large dogs, I'm neither proud nor fussy of my back lawn. Probably just as well.

It was so good to have the family all in one place together for an evening, happens so infrequently these days. I didn't miss sailing at all.

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