I’ve just completed my first watch. Me. I’ve just helmed a 50m motor yacht from Marmaris, Turkey, into international waters. I’m now officially one of the big boys. I wonder what nautical tattoo I’ve earned? Image of a gin and tonic on my forearm?
Of course I’m not really one of the big boys since I only own my yachtmaster theory, which is about twenty nine thousand levels beneath a commercially-endoursed ocean yacht-master like our skipper, Rodney, but hey, don’t steal my thunder man. It’s another box to tick off, innit? I wonder if Liz feels the same way about having to cook for seven other people, since she is now official galley bee-atch. (I’ll let her tell you about the curried banana soup).This was never the intention, you understand. We were invited to come along on a ‘jolly’ but it seems someone misunderstood the implications of delivering a rather large boat with only a few experienced crew!
Ooops, looks like we’ve got our first sea-sickness victim. With some slop created by a previous front the boat started to yaw a bit and our owner, trying to sleep in the master cabin at the front of Rama was obviously feeling it a bit. Nothing that a bit of fresh air and a snooze couldn’t sort out but if you will insist on sleeping in the cabin with the king size bed, jacuzzi and mirrored ceiling you’ve got no one to blame but yourself, he mutters jealously.
Come off watch and straight into the galley to prepare dinner! Liz, bless her, having only had nine hours sleep was feeling a little tired. The rest of us sneaked in three hours last night. Gordon and Stanley hadn’t slept at all (and at the time of typing this, still haven’t dozed for more than ten minutes).
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