When I was younger I was very keen on sailing. I owned and raced a dingy at the local yacht club on the Thames. When I was seventeen I decided to get another, better, boat. I arranged to buy a boat from another club member. The deal was done and the handover date was agreed for the Saturday. I turned up with my life savings (plus some from Mum and Dad) in hand. I handed over the cash and the boat was mine.
I was due to take part in a race the next day, having never sailed my new toy I was keen to get in some practice. My regular crew member was not at the club that day in fact there were few dingy sailors around, Jen the girl who crewed for the previous owner was in the club house having a cup of tea. I asked her to crew for me so I could get a feel for the boat, she said she did not have her sailing kit (clothes) with her but would come out anyway for a quick “flap round”. I rigged the boat and off we went Jen controlling the jib sheets, looking a bit out of place in her smart girl about town clothes.
The boat was performing well, in a light wind it was picking up good speed. After two or three runs up and down in front of the club house I push thing a bit too far and capsized the boat. No big deal I had capsized boats many times, as the boat went over I popped on to the side of the dingy put my foot on the centre board and righted it only getting my feet wet, then I looked round and saw Jen swimming, mascara running down her face (the Dusty Springfield, panda eyes look was the fashion at the time). I pulled her back on board, apologised and offered to return to the club, she said it was OK she couldn’t get any wetter. A few minutes later and the same thing happened, again, me with wet feet Jen swimming. I felt it was time to go in but of all the luck over she went again with the same result, it was obviously Jen had not perfected the trick of sitting on the side of the boat as it went over (maybe she a slow learner) there she was swimming for the third time in less than half an hour.
We got back on shore and I again apologised for dunking her three times, we were both only seventeen with no car between us (not that I would have let her get in mine if I had one, not in that state) so Jen would need to go home, across London, on the bus. What could I do? I asked if she would like to go out for a meal later to make up for it. We meet later, she had scrubbed up pretty well, I felt most uncomfortable during the meal as she recounted her journey home, the bus conductor made her stand on the platform all the way.
That was forty five years ago, three years after first sailing adventure together we got married and are still together, that must make that little dingy the most expensive boat ever.
Barry Needham
Thornhill, Dumfries
DG3 5NT