Logs and Shanties

This is not a funny log, this is not a jolly celebration of humorous errors past, rather it is a hard-hitting and often shocking account of the events that took place yesterday aboard Wood Sorrel. All from the point of view of my right shoe.

So what can I tell you about my right shoe; it's a size twelve, non-marking, non-slip, white trainer that usually enjoys the comforts of a tennis court or sofa. I took it on harriers because of reasons like it's grip, experience and namely the fact that it works well in a pair.

The day started well, with the tireless trainers winning favour over my sandals, however in the space of only a few hours this decision would be regretted by all.

My shoe was contented. It's owner was lying on the warm cabin roof as Barton flew by on either side. However there was trouble afoot. The mate of its boat, who shall remain nameless, had secretly got hold of a sail tie and was in the process of attaching the trainer bearer to the topping lift and the cabin roof ropes. The shoe was rightly worried.

But all was not lost for its owner awoke and began to squirm in desperation with all his might, working the new balance 1009 very hard. Then he made a dive for the well, surely the skipper would help a shoe and its owner in distress? But no, it was not to be. Then Johnny made a last ditch grab for the trainer as it flew through the air upon entry to the well. A mighty struggle ensued, in which many laces were tightened and much flesh was cleaved, unfortunately the mate won out.

The white piece of footwear then looked on in horror as the formerly attached crew member made a dash across the cabin roof, forgetting that his sock could not provide the same amount of quality grip as it. However the correct application of hand to boom was provided and he just survived.

Then, as the stylish non-slip trainer felt itself being tied to the birgee halyard, the courageous crew member displayed a kind of loyalty usually reserved only for family members and food. His agile body threw his aerodynamic body the entire length of the cabin roof culminating in a brilliant body slam.

Following this all the trainer can remember is a flashing view of water and then darkness, the type of darkness that can only be brought on by an armpit. The next thing it saw was its loving owner fending off the skipper and snatching the shoe from Johnny whilst simultaneously bellowing at Xander I thought you were my friend!

Again darkness. When it came round it was still dry, but most importantly it was adorning the perfectly shaped, hygienic, non-smelly foot of its owner, as opposed to the mates armpits. It was a nervous silence, with lots of tense glances towards it, and the limb that wore it, but it was a lasting ceasefire nonetheless.

A small footnote to this sorry tale is that when in service on Lullaby later that day during a dubious mooring in Ludham, the size twelve foot apparel was cruelly thrust into the cold broads water.

The shoe is now applying for a transfer to another boat. All possible foster skippers please remember; it is a size twelve, non-marking, non-slip, white trainer wanting some peace and quiet. Comes with crew.

I once had a mate and I had to obey it, to bake a fresh cake that was chocolate and chip,
I put on the apron and turned on the oven, took out the frying pan, started to flip.
To bake my cake, I had to make sure I made no mistake.
I found my cake a bit of a devil to bake.

The pan I found, upon the ground, it gave me a cake so rich and round.
Oh the hours I had to spend before I mastered it in the end.
But that was yesterday, and just today, I looked in the usual place,
There was the case, but the cake itself was missing,

Oh where can it have gone, hasn't you hasn't anyone seen my cake
Oh where can it have gone, what a blow, now I know I'm unable to eat my cooked dough.
Who swiped that cake?
I bet you a quid somebody did,
Knowing I found a good recipe and wanted to use it
Afraid of my talent at baking the cake,
For early today to my utter dismay it had vanished away like a sun-washed snowflake.

Yummy.

I've lost that cake, I know I was making it yesterday,
I've lost that cake, I've lost that cake, found that cake take-
There's not much hope of getting it back but I'd willingly pay a reward.

I know some Harriers who sail the broads would eat it without second thoughts.
Gone away, gone away, was it one of them who took it away?
Will you kindly return that cake, oh where is the skipper who pinched my cake?
I shall tell Commodore,
I want that stale cake back.
I miss its sweetness more and more and more,
Without that cake my sanity will surely break
Oooooo-ooooooooo-oooooooooo

Knowing I'd found a good recipe and wanted use it,
Displaying my talent at baking the cake,
But early today to my utter dismay it has totally vanished away.
I baked that cake and I wanted to eat it but somebody took it away,
I baked that cake and was longing to eat it but somebody took it away,
The skippers asleep in his bed,
I'll soon make him wish he were dead,
I'll put laxatives in his bread!