Nick wrote:.
Tigh an Truish is our local, as most of you know. It is the very best pub in the entire universe, and we are just this minute back from yet another wonderful evening, a friend's 50th with a superb band. In some ways we prefer it in the Winter when us locals have it to ourselves, but it is wonderful when the season starts and all manner of sailors start coming over the hill. I have even been recognised from my avatar and been bought a drink on the strength of it.
I knew the T&T of old from nights at anchor over the hill of course. Almost a year to the day before we moved to Seil I was delivering a boat up to Oban and we spent the last night of the trip in Puillabdobhrain. I sat in the wooden 'stalls' at the end of the bar and remarked plaintively that I wished it was my local. Almost exactly a year later I was sitting in the same seat and realised that it was.
Probably the only really good move I ever made . . . . apart from getting hitched to SWMBO of course. And maybe spending a year away in warmer waters on Fairwinds . . . oh OK, it hasn't been such a bad life, but the pub is the icing on the cake
Happy Valentines day everyone.
I guess you are one of the lucky ones then, in the since that Kathy was prepared to move up there, wish mine would, I'd be out of here tomorrow and somewhere up that way, unfortunatly though I cant ever see it hapening.
Was the night you are waxing so lyrically about the same night that Parhelion dragged her anchor and when we came back from the T&T she had moved considerably away from her original position.
I remember being on anchor watch for the rest of the night to make sure she stayed put.
The Skipper was going around the boat shouting " It's a F@*&ing disaster" much to the amusement of the crew.
Possibly my recollection could be blurred by the hospitality at the T&T.
Shurely shome mishtake - I seem to remember you were so drunk we had to lock you in the brig for your own good and that after the exciting but immensely educational exercise in night (re)anchoring it was me who stayed up all night on anchor watch.
But sometimes in the early hours when the gout is playing up and sleep is murdered by guilt I still hear, floating through the briny darkness, that tiny but oh so irritating home counties voice:
'Parhelion? Parhelion? Is that you? You seem to have dragged rather badly. We'll talk insurance in the morning . . . '
