That was different. A week of holiday? In a manner of speaking yes. All our boys went to scout camp, Saturday to Saturday. And, in place of a holiday, or carrying on regardless, we decided to spend a week on an RYA Day Skipper practical course.
We looked around for availability and price about six weeks ago and, following a trail of good feedback and confidence building chats with possible course providers we picked Broadreach Sailing in Gosport, run by Simon. They were offering the practical course running 5 days, Sunday evening to Friday evening, which was just perfect for the time we had available.
The details of the course are not very interesting, so I won't bore with a journal of the whole thing, but just mention a few highlights. First I'll mention that the course was a fantastic learning experience, and the week's tutor was called Nick. Nick is a superb sailor and he has his own way of doing things. Almost all the other ways of doing these things are wrong! The boat was a very neat Jeanneau 36 foot yacht, about two years old and just cleaned below the water line.
We left Gosport on Sunday night and circulated between there, Cowes and Hamble. It is, partly, essential to revisit places on the course since part of the practical is to plan and execute a passage plan in familiar waters. It is also essential to gain four hours of experience on watch during a night passage. In order to make my life interesting, these two aspects of the course were combined, so my first ever passage plan and skippering were at night on a route I had seen once, from the opposite direction, during the day. We didn't hit anything we had planned to miss, so that went alright.
There was a good focus on practicing approaching and leaving the quay in various conditions of tide and wind. As a slightly unexpected bonus, with the weather on our side, we also had some huge fun sailing. Top speed through the water was about 7.5 knots and we managed to heel to about 30 degrees a few times.
Everyone, including the boys, survived their week, but I have to say the house has been a little subdued since then. The washing machine has been working the hardest I think.
Monday 29 August 2011
Friday 12 August 2011
Difficult listening
One way, or another, I found plenty of time to practice playing the mandolin last weekend. I guess I was making progress, maybe learning another piece.
Monday and Tuesday the family went North, visiting. We dropped in to see the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight headquarters at Coningsby, where we were lucky to find all aircraft in the hangar and the Dakota testing an engine.
The weather has been very August this week. Never cold, or not biting anyway. Rain occasional and variable, torrential to light drizzle. Sun, occasional (never torrential) but episodically gorgeous; face the shining bright, arms outstretched and smile warm. The clouds have been dramatic and stormy, flat and high, fluffy and broken or cotton wool patches; never quite a Simpson's sky.
The range of insects is at a peak, butterflies, bees, hover-flies, wasps, blue, green, shiny, hairy. The spiders are having a ball.
And when I picked up the mandolin again, it was absent mindedly, carelessly, and I played something I had learned and I stopped to find that I wasn't practicing, I was playing. Playing for simple pleasure, even if not hugely well. I struggle to see technical progress (I know that I improve week by week, but the days are not always forward), but here there was a big step. I played and had enough self left over to be able to listen too, not just listen to the bad notes, the buzz, the accidental brushes of strings and the notes I miss because the left hand still doesn't talk to the right, or the right is off on its own. I heard myself play.
At the weekend I forgot my credit card PIN. I use the card half a dozen times a week for 8 years, then I forget the number. I got it third time; I know numbers, I remember them. I'd forgotten though and, faced with a novel terminal, the pattern just wouldn't arrive. Back in time to find the digit sequence, the digits were easy, but just how many possibilities are there? 4P4, 4! maybe that's why they only give three attempts. Easier than the lottery to guess right. My spare card expired a year ago, cancelled by the bank because I never used it. Maybe I should do something about finding a new spare.
Monday and Tuesday the family went North, visiting. We dropped in to see the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight headquarters at Coningsby, where we were lucky to find all aircraft in the hangar and the Dakota testing an engine.
The weather has been very August this week. Never cold, or not biting anyway. Rain occasional and variable, torrential to light drizzle. Sun, occasional (never torrential) but episodically gorgeous; face the shining bright, arms outstretched and smile warm. The clouds have been dramatic and stormy, flat and high, fluffy and broken or cotton wool patches; never quite a Simpson's sky.
The range of insects is at a peak, butterflies, bees, hover-flies, wasps, blue, green, shiny, hairy. The spiders are having a ball.
And when I picked up the mandolin again, it was absent mindedly, carelessly, and I played something I had learned and I stopped to find that I wasn't practicing, I was playing. Playing for simple pleasure, even if not hugely well. I struggle to see technical progress (I know that I improve week by week, but the days are not always forward), but here there was a big step. I played and had enough self left over to be able to listen too, not just listen to the bad notes, the buzz, the accidental brushes of strings and the notes I miss because the left hand still doesn't talk to the right, or the right is off on its own. I heard myself play.
At the weekend I forgot my credit card PIN. I use the card half a dozen times a week for 8 years, then I forget the number. I got it third time; I know numbers, I remember them. I'd forgotten though and, faced with a novel terminal, the pattern just wouldn't arrive. Back in time to find the digit sequence, the digits were easy, but just how many possibilities are there? 4P4, 4! maybe that's why they only give three attempts. Easier than the lottery to guess right. My spare card expired a year ago, cancelled by the bank because I never used it. Maybe I should do something about finding a new spare.
Tuesday 2 August 2011
hands together and apart
Hot weather for August, a month in which we have become accustomed to damp and bluster, especially when living under canvas. Hot in the car park and, as it to be expected, freezing by my desk at work. There was a moment when the generators were being tested that we thought that perhaps the air conditioning had failed, since it went momentarily quiet, but no such luck. I had my jersey on by 1:30pm.
After a gap of only 29 years, I walked out to be blessed by vampires after lunch on Monday. My blood is red as ever, whilst the rest of me goes gray. I felt it only reasonable to overcome my irrational fear of fainting, given that when my eldest was in hospital in June, there were always a few units available in case of emergency.
I have to go back and forth in my musical education. After a few weeks of trying to find the notes as fast as possible I am reminded that finding them in the correct rhythm is probably a better grounding. I detest the tune of a dance to the beat of a funeral drum, but, it is necessary. My fingers are much less painful now, and my fingers are getting more used to the exercise of fretting. I managed to fret a 3-finger G chord for a few seconds today. Although I have found that accidental disconnection between what the two hands are doing is not advantageous I am now faced with the opposite problem to some extent. If I try to play gently, quietly, I find that my left hand becomes more gentle too and I don't press hard enough on the frets. If I fret with attitude to get clear notes, my right hand jumps in with full volume - the tension travels up the left arm, across the shoulders and down the right arm and it all gets very LOUD.
The G-string has at last been introduced in Hal's book. Texas Gales to learn next.
After a gap of only 29 years, I walked out to be blessed by vampires after lunch on Monday. My blood is red as ever, whilst the rest of me goes gray. I felt it only reasonable to overcome my irrational fear of fainting, given that when my eldest was in hospital in June, there were always a few units available in case of emergency.
I have to go back and forth in my musical education. After a few weeks of trying to find the notes as fast as possible I am reminded that finding them in the correct rhythm is probably a better grounding. I detest the tune of a dance to the beat of a funeral drum, but, it is necessary. My fingers are much less painful now, and my fingers are getting more used to the exercise of fretting. I managed to fret a 3-finger G chord for a few seconds today. Although I have found that accidental disconnection between what the two hands are doing is not advantageous I am now faced with the opposite problem to some extent. If I try to play gently, quietly, I find that my left hand becomes more gentle too and I don't press hard enough on the frets. If I fret with attitude to get clear notes, my right hand jumps in with full volume - the tension travels up the left arm, across the shoulders and down the right arm and it all gets very LOUD.
The G-string has at last been introduced in Hal's book. Texas Gales to learn next.
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