31 January 2011


... or at least, I think that was what he said. Difficult to tell mind (despite repetition), he was on the other side of a door and seemed to have had something in his mouth.

Another few days at sea. Another team member yawning in glorious technicolor. Pretty sure 'thermal shock' was the cause this time though, as opposed to the standard rock 'n' roll. The sea conditions were perfect, certainly the best experienced thus far. Perfect small cetacean weather, even post-sunset, when their gaspy breaths were easily audible above the slappy laps of wavelet on bow. It was -3 before windchill though, probably nearer -8 after; and it would appear that, if you've plumped for sou'westers, oilskins, gumboots and 'Fisherman's Friends', instead of Goretex, etc., the temperature to which your body will drop will contrast enough with that experienced on re-entering the living quarters, that all manner of anatomical reactions will occur, mostly resulting in the projectile repositioning of your lunch to a place much more visible than it was before.

Birdwise it was, predictably, all rather quiet just a few divers and scoters disturbing the 'I-wonder-if-I'd-look-like-Ophelia-if-I-threw-myself-overboard' line of thought.

[NB. The above is a woefully late post for which I, lacking in all humility, refuse to apologise.]

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