BLUEMOMENT

Any recommendations of an on-line RYA Yachtmaster theory course? ....or any providers to avoid
Looking for something additional to do to use the time spent when social distancing

That's a good suggestion - at the moment I feel that ship has sailed for me, Dear Heart presented me with a list projects that 'all need doing'
I was rather hoping to develop my skype techniques and do a bit of writing.
All is lost

You could try navathome.com. I did one of their courses a few years ago, seemed OK.

thanks Jonas

claymore wrote:I was rather hoping to develop my skype techniques and do a bit of writing.
All is lost

Yes. Woman's Hour (radio 4 this morning) warned that a consequence of Covid will be lots of dreadful novels.

I feel that was a bit harsh - I only said I wanted to do a bit of writing and out of the blue(moment) I am branded as a cack novelist.
Charming....fekkin charming

That was amazing - fekkin gets over the line but S.H.I.T.E gets turned into scottish excrement. Why scottish?

Hey Navahome for me too , DS and YM online

claymore wrote:I feel that was a bit harsh - I only said I wanted to do a bit of writing and out of the blue(moment) I am branded as a cack novelist.
Charming....fekkin charming

Ye could start off practicing by writing a few cheques? I can supply relevant details.

Don't have a cheque book

It was a dark and stormy night. The rain fell in lumps onto the deserted pavement as the Webmaster wandered in a confused state. He had no idea why he was confused which, of course, naturally, fed his confusion.
On the other side of the reservoir, grinding against the stone sets of this fine Victorian edifice, an ageing Leisure 28, abandoned and neglected,


How am I doing?
Anyone taking up the keyboard from here - just a sentence - you know you'd like to.....

A collaborative novel could be an amusing idea to waste some self isolation time. (although actually I'm supposed to be working, we've got business pretty much as usual other than some hygiene rules).

It was a dark and stormy night. The rain fell in lumps onto the deserted pavement as the Webmaster wandered in a confused state. He had no idea why he was confused which, of course, naturally, fed his confusion.
On the other side of the reservoir, grinding against the stone sets of this fine Victorian edifice, an ageing Leisure 28, abandoned and neglected, and what was once gelcoat now seemed like frizzy, hairy carpet. "Albatross" was the just legible name across the stern, causing me to wonder which part of the southern hemisphere this wee cruiser had come from, and how it had got this far.
"Is this another restoration project?" he thought, or just a

mm5aho wrote:A collaborative novel could be an amusing idea to waste some self isolation time. (although actually I'm supposed to be working, we've got business pretty much as usual other than some hygiene rules).

It was a dark and stormy night. The rain fell in lumps onto the deserted pavement as the Webmaster wandered in a confused state. He had no idea why he was confused which, of course, naturally, fed his confusion.
On the other side of the reservoir, grinding against the stone sets of this fine Victorian edifice, an ageing Leisure 28, abandoned and neglected, and what was once gelcoat now seemed like frizzy, hairy carpet. "Albatross" was the just legible name across the stern, causing me to wonder which part of the southern hemisphere this wee cruiser had come from, and how it had got this far.
"Is this another restoration project?" he thought, or just a

another dead bird, washed up on a foreign shore. In his heart of hearts, the Webmeister knew he had to walk away but he couldn't remember the last time he walked away from anything. Walking away was for the lilly- livered, Webmeister was not a walker away from things - although perhaps he should have walked away from a brief encounter on Carnforth Station - but that is another story - not just another story - a blasted film that had made the fortunes of Celia Howard and Trevor Johnson

claymore wrote:

mm5aho wrote:A collaborative novel could be an amusing idea to waste some self isolation time. (although actually I'm supposed to be working, we've got business pretty much as usual other than some hygiene rules).

It was a dark and stormy night. The rain fell in lumps onto the deserted pavement as the Webmaster wandered in a confused state. He had no idea why he was confused which, of course, naturally, fed his confusion.
On the other side of the reservoir, grinding against the stone sets of this fine Victorian edifice, an ageing Leisure 28, abandoned and neglected, and what was once gelcoat now seemed like frizzy, hairy carpet. "Albatross" was the just legible name across the stern, causing me to wonder which part of the southern hemisphere this wee cruiser had come from, and how it had got this far.
"Is this another restoration project?" he thought, or just a

another dead bird, washed up on a foreign shore. In his heart of hearts, the Webmeister knew he had to walk away but he couldn't remember the last time he walked away from anything. Walking away was for the lilly- livered, Webmeister was not a walker away from things - although perhaps he should have walked away from a brief encounter on Carnforth Station - but that is another story - not just another story - a blasted film that had made the fortunes of Celia Howard and Trevor Johnson

acting rather aptly, he thought, of a promise of secret passion and excitement which only leads to unrequited love and misery. Webmeister hesitated but for the briefest moment and knew it would not, could not satisfy his deep desire to feel the gelcoat, see the gleam of T cut and wax. It would not take much, he pondered lazily as he glanced across the loch, just a touch here and there, tender love. No one need know, he could surreptitiously fettle away, restoring Albatross, maybe even