SCSC: a jam, a tangle and a lot of fun

A fun weekend. Great gig Friday night just outside Cheltenham, then a brilliant evening Saturday night playing to a packed out full house at The Railway in Bristol. But a late one. Band finished around 0030 Sunday morning, so I was home and in bed for around 0330ish.

Almost amusingly, according to Strava, the gig at The Railway was a better workout than either Saturday morning's karate or Sunday's racing. But in any case, I was back up, showered, shaved, kit bag packed and back on the road for 0920 the following morning to get to the Club for 1000 to meet Alex and his dad Mark and rig the GP14 for the day's racing. 

The wind was a bit lighter this week, and a lot steadier. South, veering southwest, 12 knots gusting into the high teens, but building significantly as the day wore on. The usual two races, a pursuit starting at 1100 followed back to back by a general handicap. 

We were slow rigging the new boat again, so about three minutes late on the water and late to the start for the first race. But we soon caught up with the back of the fleet and started to work our way through the backmarkers. Conditions were easy as we bore away around the second mark of the course onto a short run. 

Me: "Shall we put the kite up?"

Alex: "Definitely!"

The hoist was almost smooth, except the kite's sheet tangled around the prodder on the bow. No idea what you call it but that's my name for it. It's essentially an inconsequential looking six inch extension that looks like a tongue depressor you'd find in a doctor's office, and it's purpose is to stop the spinnaker lines from slipping under the bow of the boat.

In this case, said line had wrapped around it whilst we were rigging and was now preventing the launch.

Advantage of a twelve year old crew is that they are light, very nimble and up for anything. So I eased he halyard a little and sent him scampering out on to the foredeck to untangle the sheet, then Alex safely back in the cockpit, completed the launch.

At which point it was time to drop it again, and harden up amongst the crowd onto a very close reach up to the next mark.

The usual marks of the course at South Cerney are numbered buoys at various relatively static points around the lake, working clockwise from 1 to 6. The morning's course was a beat to a port rounding at #4, a close reach to round #1 on port, a run down to a port rounding at #6, a very close reach to a port rounding at #4, a beat up to round #2 on port, followed by a long run down the length of the lake to gybe around #5 on starboard.

The second hoist for the stretch down to #5 was much better so we enjoyed a long, easy run under the kite to the gybe mark, but left the drop a little late so had a rushed, inelegant mark rounding. Second lap, and and inelegance of the last drop paid us back when we hoisted the kite again for the short run down to #6 and the kite came up hour-glass wrapped in a nasty figure-of-eight.

Alex is a Cadet sailor and so has a lot of practice crewing with spinnakers, although the Cadet is a significantly smaller boat with an accordingly smaller suite of sails. But he was admirably calm working out the tangle in the brief time and space we had on the run down the leg to the rapidly closing mark, working the sheets, and talking me through easing the halyard to help whilst I tried not to collide with any of the surrounding Lasers and Solos also running for the same mark.

The kit straightened out and flew clean for a brief moment before we had to drop it and harden up onto the next let.

For the the third and what became the final lap the hoist was clean and the kite flew well, but when we got to the drop, the halyard jammed and the kite refused to come down. We rounded #6 and hardened up onto a reach, letting the main spill, Alex taking the tiller whilst I stood up on the foredeck to try and work out what the problem was.

I could see the spinnaker halyard wrapped around the head of the genoa, possibly caught on the shackle of the sail's halyard, but couldn't work out how to free it out on the water. The safety boat loitered nearby, asking if we needed assistance, but we declined, and limped back to land at the pontoon near the committee hut.

Alongside, I released the rig tension and we stepped onto the pontoon with the intention of capsizing the boat so I could reach the tangle, but the wind filled the kite, and with the tension out of the rig was enough to pull the sail loose. Alex reboarded and stowed the kite, I untangled the genoa that was wrapped around the forestay, and we relaunched, me pulling the rig tension back on as we left the pontoon.

We'd dropped out of the back of the fleet, but hadn't missed a mark or accepted outside assistance, so as the race finished a few minutes later, we still took a place, albeit last with an inglorious 12th.

The wind built for the second race, but we'd untangled all the tangles and were getting quickly comfortable with the boat. We had a great start, on the line and moving as the gun went, in relatively clean air with just a solo to windward and slightly astern. We gradually pulled ahead and as the fleet tacked off on to port behind us, we followed, putting us clear ahead of most for the windward rounding.

The course remained the same, and the hoists and drops were becoming practiced. We had a few tangles on the beat with the genoa where it tangled with the spinnaker pole because we'd failed to stow it properly after the drop, but no more tangles or mishaps with the kite.

With the wind veering to the southwest, the long run down to the starboard rounding on the final gybe mark had turned into a dead run, so across the first couple of laps we had some valuable practice gybing with the spinnaker.

On the final lap, we rounded #2 and hoisted the kite, but couldn't lay the mark at #5 on a starboard tack. The conditions were getting boisterous as I called for the gybe, but Alex commented that things were getting too jumpy with the kite and suggested we drop.

A quick, flawless drop followed by a gybe onto port, just as the gust hit. The little boat leapt onto the plane and charged ahead as we trimmed the sails, slid back and hiked out to keep the boat flat and she flew down the leg. Back onto the rhumb line we gybed back onto port and closed up on the Solo ahead. A quick glance saw boats going down astern of us as they rounded #2 and up ahead we could see Garry's RS300 capsized and on its side with the safety boat in attendance very close to the mark. 

We won an overlap on the inside of the Solo well clear of the three boat lengths needed to give us rights at the mark, but he made it very clear he wasn't going to contest. We gybed neatly between the stricken RS and the buoy, then hardened up neatly onto the beat to cross the line and finish.

Of the eleven boats at the start, two retired, and we took a very creditable 4th place. Happy with the result and very happy with the boat. Especially as there's lots of obvious room for improvement.

sometimes you lose your soup, to find a better day

Still no sign of Carlos, but in the end a nice chap called Paul from DPD did deliver the Ninja to my door, as originally promised. Okay, as originally promised but eleven days later. Ninja Kitchens UK then sent me an email asking for another review for their website, rather than TrustPilot's, which I submitted with one star, a title "Soup Maker a Win, Customer Service an Abject Fail" and accompanying words to the effect of "great gadget shame about the customer service". 

They moderated and rejected the review, concluding "Our staff has read your review and values your contribution even though it did not meet all our website guidelines. Thanks for sharing, and we hope to publish next time!" which, I guess, tells you all you need to know about the reliability of reviews left on the actual manufacturer website. 

Needless to say, I don't think I'll be buying direct from them again.

And so, to conclude with a final song, this time no AI involved whatsoever, I give you "The Ballad of Sweet Potato, Carrot and Ginger Soup" . . . .

Weekend is almost here; usual plan, a couple of gigs Friday and Saturday then racing the GP14 on Sunday. Amanda's away this weekend, so a young man called Alex (aged 12) will be crewing with me.

SCSC: GP Sunday

Amanda and I took the GP14 out yesterday for her maiden race. Westerly, 15 knots gusting to a shade over 25, though to be fair, it felt more at times. As it almost always does when you're in the teeth of it. I couldn't persuade Amanda to fly the kite, but, secretly, was kind of glad one of us was being sensible about things.

She's a lovely boat, very good fun. Lower to the water than the Albacore, shorter in length but beamy and a little heavier, I think. The Albacore kind of glides through the tacks and gybes, whereas I found the GP14 more prone to stalling briefly. That could have been the conditions. It could be practice. It could be the fact that the balance of the GP is so much more biased towards the relatively huge genoa. With the Albie, when I pump in the main as we come back out of a roll tack, I feel a definite response. With the GP14 yesterday, not so much.

On the other hand, the GP is a slower boat, with a commensurately higher handicap, so you're very much in the thick of the racing with the other boats in a mixed fleet, which is definitely good fun.

With regards to the racing, we definitely did not cover ourselves in glory.

We were slow getting onto the water so very late on the start for the first race. But that wasn't unexpected, we were rigging a new boat for the first time with the help of the previous owner. Better to ask the questions and get things right in the first place. It's so much more complicated fixing things once you're on the water.

The second race initially looked much more promising. A small crowd of eleven boats made the start, and we hit the line close to the pin and moving nicely just as the gun went, which put us ahead of most of the pack as we rounded the windward mark.

Clean air and uncomplicated mark roundings made for a fast race, only spoilt by me on the third lap when we forgot that buoy #4 was a mark of the course and sailed a fast, fun, spray-soaked reach to #6 instead. We didn't spot our mistake until almost making the same unforced error on the fourth lap, at which point it was far to late to correct and so, in effect, retired. 

But we were having fun so continued to race, despite the fact we knew our race was already over. 

Carlos and the Lost Ninja Soup Maker

I've been occasionally know to peruse the Guardian's website (okay, occasionally as in most days, me being, according to some, a Guardian reading, tofu eating, bleeding heart liberal woke leftie) and at the beginning of this month a particular article caught my eye:

www.theguardian.com/thefilter/2026/feb/04/best-soup-maker-uk

Intrigued by the idea that there was a kitchen gadget that would make me soup, I decided I definitely needed one in my life, so hunted down the endearingly named "Ninja Foodi blender and soup maker" on Ninja Kitchen's website, and was thrilled to find that not only had they discounted it to £129.99 but that they were also offering a 10% introductory discount on the first purchase of anybody registering with them.

This was the 4th of Feb. Mindful that it would be imprudent to raid my savings account for what amounted to yet another impulse purchase, I put a note in my diary to revisit the idea on my next payday, the 10th.

The 10th rolls around, and I find myself still dreaming of soup for lunch. So, debit card gripped firmly between my teeth, I go surf the web back to the afore mentioned website, and buy myself a magic maker of soup from the Ninja people.

In short order, I receive a confirmation email and a promise of next day delivery via DPD.

Next day, an email from DPD telling me Carlos has my package, and that he'll be with me sometime between 1339 & 1439 that afternoon. I'm working from home anyway, so I note it's on its way, and duly forget about it.

And here's where it all goes wrong. Nikki, unusually, has the day off. She's looking after the twins as my daughter is still away up north (remember I had them the day before? now it's her turn). Around lunchtime, I'm getting hungry, the twins are getting noisy, and Nanny Nikki is looking a little fraught, so I suggest we take the kids out to KFC's for lunch.

Around an hour later, we get home, and I find a note from DPD in the letter box saying sorry but Carlos had missed us, but providing little other information other than a direction to go back to their website.

The tracking information on the DPD site shows the parcel arriving back at their depot at 0216 on the  morning of Thursday 12th, where it sits until 1438, when they report that they have my parcel and it's now on its way to me. Yey!

Except at 1439 the site then reports "Your DPD driver Carlos has been delayed" and that's it. Radio silence ensues.

The weekend passes, and nothing. I try to contact DPD, but they demand a package reference and delivery postcode, and then claim the package reference I give them doesn't exist.

Tuesday, and an invitation to review my new purchase on TrustPilot turns up in my inbox. So I post a one-star review observing that they evidently seem incapable of delivering the goods they sell and it's next to impossible to contact anybody for help. Within a very short while, I get an email from an endearingly titled "SharkNinja Consumer Experience Advocate" saying "Firstly, we're sorry to hear about your experience, and we'd like to make this right" and asking for some further details, which I immediately email back.

Three days of silence then follow. But the fact they reached out for me did enable Ninja to post a seeming prompt reply to my negative review to suggest they were dealing with it with all due dispatch. I guess appearance is everything in customer service these days.

By Wednesday I've found a "contact us" form in the Customer Care section of Ninja's website. I message them via this, whilst also emailing back the previously mentioned SharkNinja Consumer Experience Advocate to ask for an update. Both ghost me.

Annoyingly, the DPD warehouse where, presumably, my missing gadget is currently lodged, is behind my own office, little more than a stone's throw away, as you can see from the picture at the top of this post. Although I'm acutely conscious that if I actually start throwing stones, I might get into trouble.

So I take my frustrations onto Facebook, tagging in both Ninja Kitchen UK's page and DPD UK's and getting ignored by both, but I do get lots of sympathy from friends after I post a screenshot of the DPD tracking page, voicing my growing concerns for Carlos, who hasn't been seen since Thursday 12th. Suggestions are made that he might have eloped with my Soup Maker; one friend, Hayley, mentions they've just seen Carlos on TikTok with his new show, "Making soup with Carlos"

Then another friend, Jen, suggests the whole thing sounds like a country song.

So I ask ChatGPT to write me the lyrics to a country song called "Carlos and the Lost Ninja Soup Maker" and threaten Ninja Kitchen UK and DPD UK to find and deliver my soup maker safe and sound and unharmed within the next 24 hours, or I'm going to put a tune and some chords to those AI-fever-dream lyrics and record them a song. I observe that the world really doesn't want me to start singing Country (although singing along to Country songs is, in fact, one of my guilty pleasures in life) 

Of course, I'd overlooked the fact that if I can use AI to generate some lyrics, a cousin of mine, Matt, following the story along with some amusement, can easily use it (in this case, Suno AI) to create the full production. Which he duly produced.

This then, is the ballad of Carlos and the Lost Soup Maker, credits to Matt G (and Suno AI) for the composition, production and recording and yours truly (and ChatGPT) for the lyrics.

I found myself both amused, impressed and just a little bit frightened. And I'm seriously thinking about actually covering the song with my band.

Having been ghosted my both their Customer Care website and their "SharkNinja Consumer Experience Advocate" I finally resorted to messaging Ninja Kitchen UK's Facebook page, detailing the history of my frustrations, and sending them a link to the song we'd written for them.

This morning, to my delight (and a little trepidation) I find a message back from them saying how sad they are about this situation (I guess Country music will do that to a body) and that they've marked the original order as lost in transit and that a replacement order was on its way.

So, it looks like Soup for Monday!

Or, as they now say in Country and Western circles, "Sometimes you lose your soup, to find a better day."

SCSC: GP14 13862

In something of an impulse purchase, Amanda and I have downsized from the Albacore to a GP14. It's a boat I know quite well, quite often viewed from astern as we've raced against her for more than a few years at South Cerney. 

Aside from having been immaculately maintained and looked after, with an excellent pedigree of results, the main attraction is that the GP14 has a spinnaker. I've only ever used them rarely, and never raced with one; until last Sunday when we took the boat out for a trial, Amanda had never flown a spinnaker before.

So, a new challenge, with new skills to learn. This coming Sunday will be our first race. I'm not expecting much; I'll be happy if we just manage to get the kite up a couple of times without going for a swim.

Meanwhile, if you happen to know anybody that might be interested in a much loved, hard used Albacore?

Tame the Moon

I've never been especially big on cards, and firmly believe chocolates and flowers shouldn't be reserved as gifts for a particular day of the year. Jaded romantic that I am, I do make a point of wishing my wife a happy Valentine's on the morning of the day concerned, and one of us will aim to cook the other something nice for supper.

This year, with the day concerned falling on a Saturday, instead I had a gig.

The soundtrack to the above video is a song I wrote some years ago. I think we recorded it for the band's second album, so the vintage would be distinctly pre-millennium. 

With the advent and accessibility of home-recording in recent years, it was one of the songs I re-recorded for myself, free from the meddling influence of the other musicians in my band. I love playing with the band, but it's nice having full, creative control (for better, or I guess, more often worse) of all the instruments and aspects of a song's production and recording.

At some point last week, this song came up on rotation on the morning alarm that gets me grudgingly out of bed each day, and in my sleep-fogged state of mind, I irrationally thought "I wonder if I can find some clever AI on the Internet to create a video for this song? I think it should involve a couple of mice!"

Then I climbed blearily out of bed, brushed my teeth, showered, and once dressed to meet the day, went looking. This was the result. 

The song is called Tame the Moon, penned and recorded by yours truly, the video is by some monster AI entity (freebeat.ai) that, I suspect, will one day devour the world. It is, of course, dedicated to my wife, Nikki.

Oh, and as for Valentine's? I invited Nik to the gig, but she gracefully declined and said she'd rather enjoy a night in. I got home early hours Sunday morning to find her asleep on the sofa "waiting up for me" and a still warm lasagne waiting for me in the oven.

If that's not romance, I don't know what is.

an unfinished Valentine

cradled within the promise of a storm
life is desperate poetry a manic tapestry 
caught within the snare of where you're from
stolen moments unexpected draw a map

I could have been
almost happy free of burden and debt
and responsibility alone with my guitar
a small boat and the wide wild sea
I could have been
almost complete without tie obligation
or commitment just the open road
and an honest song

I could have been almost free

but life is tapestry of broken hearts and second chances
a patchwork of opportunity lost and found
taken or not
you were my first chance and my last
you are my first choice and my last
as inevitable as the tide you leave me high as the sky
you are the only chance I need

double trouble & a bookshelf

It's that time of year again, when the highlight of the week is that I built bookshelf and tidied my room. Boo seems impressed, Lottie somewhat less so. Actually, building the bookshelf was fun, and finally getting my various bags and cases off the floor rewarding. As was having a place for my few remaining books, which appear to cover cooking, sailing, karate and music. The rest of my library is on my Kindle these days. 

I also changed a kitchen tap and fixed a leaking sink later in this same week; it's been a very practical minded February for me so far. But the highlight of the week was taking the day off work Tuesday to look after the twins.

My daughter had to travel north to look after a friend, and Nikki couldn't get the day off, so Grandad volunteered to the amusement of both, and slight if unspoken concern of my daughter. You'd think from her poorly obscured nervousness at leaving the three of us unsupervised I'd never done this before.

To be fair, from the moment I got them up to the moment I put them to bed, it was exhausting, occasionally very messy,  but very good fun. They're great company. Both very distinct characters now, but both very mobile, adventurous, curious and robust. Keeping up with them all day was certainly a full time job.

Naturally, I took them to town for lunch. The conclusion to which is we clearly don't pay our serving staff enough.

Archer

2154hrs, drinking Cosmopolitans on a terrace bar and in 24 hours more I'll be somewhere over the Atlantic on the way home.

When I went for my last drink, Archer, the barman, asked what I did for fun. I said walk my dogs, sail and sing. He said sing what, and I said not reggae, but I do know all the words to Redemption Song.

He said, so rap it. I don't rap. But we then sang it together, whilst he shook my drink in its shaker for percussion. I'm drinking it now, and it is good.

Most of the Americans in the bar ignored us, engrossed in a football game. But an elderly couple at the other end of the bar did give us a round of applause. 

I've grown quite fond of Jamaica. I shall come back one day.

The photo was yesterday's sunset. The only photo I have of today is of Nikki, but she refused to smile as she saw the camera coming. 

She's been smiling pretty much most of the last ten days though. We were thirty years married on 6th Jan, I count myself a lucky man.

Jamaica

So, we've barely seen the sun since we landed and it rained pretty much all day today.

But all is good. Spent yesterday afternoon on the beach in the shade of clouds but warm enough to warrant a frequent swim. 

Now sat on the veranda of the hotel bar in the balmy heat enjoying a dry martini, thinking I might indulge in another in a moment.

Life could be worse.

Clocking out, clocking in

 2025 is dead, long live 2026.

61 gigs made for a busy, occasionally fraught year, but we shared some amazing moments.

Upped the membership of Grandad's Gang by one with the happy arrival of Ben and Hannah's first, Freddie.

We spent 62 hours underway with Petrella over 235 nautical miles, which is to say, not nearly enough. This is high on my list of "must do better" for next year.

With fewer gigs in the diary, and little appetite for booking many more for the year to come, that might actually be achievable.

Ashore, I spent 682 hours in the dojo practicing karate. Ironically, after a bit of a slump in the third quarter of the year due to ill health, I appear to have got back to where I started.

Back on the water, I've spent 688 hours racing the Albacore with Amanda and, as her occasional sub, Alex, during which we've covered 166 nautical miles. The last race was with Alex on Boxing Day, where we took third place. The photo below was taken by William from his Wayfarer, the winning boat, just ahead. Alex and I are on frame-right, being neatly match-raced into the oblivion of third in the closing couple of minutes of the race by Vernon and his Solo, who took a well deserved second.

Sans crew, I spent 407 hours racing the Laser, over 65 nautical miles. So most of my time racing was spent being sociable in the double-hander, but I do love the convenience and freedom of single-handed sailing. Across both boats in total, that was 1095 hours and 231 nautical miles spent racing around the cans on Lake 16 at South Cerney.

I don't track the hours spent walking the dogs, but there have been more than a few statute miles passed underfoot, always in good company, if not always the most pleasant of weather. Both Lottie and Boo have seen in the new year both in good health, and looking forward to many more walks. This is the German Shepherd version of a turtle on a post.

After more than thirty years together (I think it was thirty-five as of November, but don't hold me to that) Nikki and I finally managed a holiday aboard together, with a week in Sharm El Sheik. I think she's gotten a taste for it.

So clocking out the old year, it has had its ups and its downs, but on reflection, mostly ups. It's been busy, perhaps a little too busy, but we've had song and sun and sand and sea and dolphins and dogs and children and grandchildren, and good friends, old and new.

And clocking in the new, in a few days time on the 6th Jan, Nikki and I will see in our thirtieth anniversary. Thirty years ago, pecuniary constraints and family commitments meant that our honeymoon was not really a lavish affair. Family friends gave us a room in their home in Norwich, and we spent a week exploring the town and surrounds. I'll always be grateful, but thought as she's managed to put up with me under contract for thirty years now, it was about time I did something better.

So tomorrow morning we're catching a plane out of Birmingham, to spend ten days in Jamaica.

Happy New Year everybody.

SCSC: end of season

Not all Sundays are created equal. A photo of Amanda and I sailing the Albacore, taken earlier today by William Gardiner. It was the last race of the Club's Sunday Swift Pursuit series. We missed out on taking the trophy by, I would guess, about six seconds. 

I find it hard to mind too much. 15 knots of wind, spiced up with some very lively gusts into the mid twenties, a lovely day's sailing on the lake. We were, in the end, beaten on those six seconds by a gentleman sailing a Flying Fifteen, our friend John, who at a guess, is close to thirty years my senior.

It was a very well deserved win, and we've had great fun over the last six weeks trying to deny it to him.

Just the Boxing Day race left now before the year's end.