Up at Inverary in Argyllshire
for a Classic Boat Regatta just
before the main race we were
introduced to the organiser’s
wife. A lovely tall, slim,
mature lady who looked relaxed
and comfortable in an expensive
summer dress, narrow high heeled
shoes and a wide brimmed straw
hat that protected her from the
hot June sun that was staring
out of a background of deep
blue.
Our first impressions
of a rather aloof lady were
dispelled when she told us that
she would rather be out sailing
with us than being the feted,
important, big-hatted lady of
the day. We said “Why not-surely
most of the handshaking and
other duties will be after the
racing.”. Our wide brimmed new
friend suddenly said “God! –I
suppose I could-my husband will
cover for me but I’ve no oilies.”.
We told her that between us we
had a spare jacket and trousers
that she could borrow. “Can you
give me half an hour?- I’ll be
back in time to start the race.”
She took off up the quay at a
rate of knots, one hand holding
onto the big hat and the other
managing to control her handbag
and flowing skirts.
When she rerurned, the
dress and hat had been replaced
with jeans, tartan shirt, big
heavy sweater and a pair of
trainers.
She clambered into the
boat holding onto a plastic bag
that clinked of glass as it was
laid carefully in the cockpit. “
That’s something for while we
are sailing. An I’m Mary and you
have no idea how grateful I am
to be invited on this beautiful
old boat. How old is she?”
Stephen, the owner told her that
Vilia had been built in 1901.
Then almost right away we had to
leave and make our way out to
the starting line.
Mary managed into
Stephen’s oily jacket alright
and my trousers fitted except
for length, as the legs only
came to just below her calves.
No matter, she looked
great with her eyes shining with
pleasure
We had a pretty good
start and once we had settle
down to the business of racing,
Mary opened her plastic bag and
produced a bottle of champagne.
“Can you find something to put
this in” Mary asked. “What a
silly question.” I said and went
into the cabin to get some
glasses. We did rather well as
we scooted over the course and
with Stephen’s practised hand on
the tiller and –perhaps- some
assistance from the
champagne-induced light-hearted
banter, we overhauled most of
the boats in our class and some
others as well. As we jibed at
the far mark to head back to the
finish Mary dived into her
plastic bag again –“ If it’s OK
with the Skipper I’ve got one
here for the run back.”
Stephen smiled as he
eased the tiller towards him
–“By all means- it doesn’t seem
to have done as any harm at
all,” And we passed another of
our competitors.
Back at Inverary we
got Mary up onto the steps of
the quay. She turned round and
told us she had thoroughly
enjoyed the afternoon and
wouldn’t have missed it. Then
she was away along the quay
heading back to the official
world of the big hat.
That evening there was a
tremendous reception and the
prize giving was followed by
traditional music supplied by
crew members off the Classic and
Traditional boats that had
sailed from far and near to take
part in the regatta.
Conviviality is a good word to
describe the festive ambience of
music, song and laughter.
What a good day it had been.
The next day the Inverary
Festival was in full swing with
the streets full of parked cars
and people and the sun was still
shining as if there was nothing
unusual about the weather. The
pubs were slaking folk’s thirst
inside the premises and outside
and if there wasn’t a table or a
seat to be had on the pavement
then there was always window
sills and the kerbs.
The pier was full of kids
fleecing their parents of as
much cash as possible for ice
cream, chocolates, hamburgers
and every other kind pf gooey,
fat forming fast food. Stalls,
with people in light clothes and
bright colours all trying to
make their way either up the
pier or down the pier, eager to
see the rows of wooden
traditional craft but finding it
difficult with the press of
hundreds out on a beautiful day.
The Coastguard and the RNLI boat
crews were having a well earned
rest after conducting and
impressive rescue exhibition.
There was even a seaplane giving
trips.
In the middle of all this packed
humanity, a large limousine with
an Official Car sticker across
the top of the windscreen,
slowlymade its way through the
tight throng, then stopped. The
drivers door opened and a slim,
very elegant lady, carefully
emerged. A wide brimmed hat with
a flowing scarf tied round the
crown, ducked out of the
doorway. Slowly she pulled
herself up to stand on the seat
revealing a gorgeous. Gauzy,
rainbow coloured dress that
matched her hatband. She stood
with one white gloved hand
holding onto the car roof and
the other up to her eyes to
shade the sun, obviously looking
for someone. With practically
everyone of the densely packed
crowd watching her, she slowly
looked around from her vantage
point. Then came the moment of
the most acute embarrassment.
Mary started waving something
yellow around her head as she
called across to me-“Bill- Bill
darling – you forgot your
trousers.!”
How could all those laughing
cheering people know that it
really was an innocent return of
a pair of old waterproof
trousers?.
Timber Surgery .
At the old Club House the
Committee were all working hard
at various jobs on a cold and
frosty Saturday in January. Two
of us had been detailed to
investigate defective plumbing
in the ladies toilet. For some
reason this had been classed as
a priority by the lady members.
We found that it would be
necessary to inspect the pipes
running under the floor. The
floor was of very large section
chipboard with no access trap.
We decided that a square would
have to be cut out to allow
initial inspection. We had a
small circular saw but were a
bit apprehensive about possibly
cutting into the pipes that had
been laid close under the floor.
My friend and I were just
discussing what would be the
best way to avoid a watery
catastrophe, when the Club
Secretary came in to see how we
were getting on. Our Secretary
was a respected surgeon, a bone
specialist. He enquired what the
hold up was. We told him that we
were a bit reluctant to start
cutting in case we went too deep
and cut into the pipes
Our Secretary knelt beside us on
the floor and said “ Here – give
me the saw. “ As nice as
nine-pence he cut a section out
with the whirling blade going
through at floor thickness and
no more.
He smiled at us and said “ I’m
not allowed to go too deep.
Bill Mills