Didn’t matter what I wanted to do, time wasn’t working with me. When it blew 40knots it was dark, when I needed a train it was cancelled and as for the snowy city pictures, it rained. When the snow finally fell I was back in London where it threatened but never settled, though I’m not complaining, turns out Factory Media don’t just produce great mags, they throw a mean party.
You couldn’t accuse Jem of being a party animal, think he’d called it a day by 10:30 most nights in Jeri, so guess I’m blaming him for me making the most of a good night out. The build up to Christmas feels repetitive but being away makes you feel you’ve missed out, now that’s my official excuse for a 5:30 finish.
We’d arrived home with the weather being the only topic on the news so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise with Shaun’s answer “not on your Nellie”. I had to be at Factory for the late afternoon and wanted to get an early sail. Having been kept awake listening to the gate rattling itself apart I was broken to be stood on my own looking out to sea.
While the wind had dropped I can’t say there wasn’t enough, but a 7m in a subzero offshore wind had me retreating to the van. I’ve always thought the joy of windsurfing was sailing with your mates, thankfully I’ve always been vocal on this point which was my only defence when I dropped by Shaun’s for a cuppa “told you, not on your Nellie”.
