A Swatchway Rambler, that’s the life for me, Listening to Beethoven and drinking pots and pots of tea. Waiting for the tide and following the breeze, There’s no stress on board, all is at ease. At the end of the day, with the boogie stove aglow, I sup on pot noodle (but, that, no one really needs to know).
Rye Harbour is a lovely port, But make your stay there very short. —— Some sailors think the River Rother is hardly worth the bleeden bother, The tide is strong the mud is deep, best stay in Eastbourne and get some sleep! —— At Rye we tasted bread-based lasagna, Could this be what killed Melania?
When cruising in the ice, some think that coal is nice. But we are always dozy, under our blister cosy.
Please come to Brighton for the SpringtimeI’m stayin’ in that ugly marina and there is so much to doYou can sell your kimchi out on the pavementBy the office where I hope to be workin’ soonPlease come to BrightonBut she said “No – MG won’t you come home to me?” And she said, “Hey Swatchway guy now won’t cha settle down?”“Brighton ain’t your kinda town”“There ain’t no mud and nobody
To the uninitiated the landscape of the Essex coast,Is just as bland as a piece of toast.There are no mountains, and even the cliffs are few,Only swatchways and mud, but what is a sailor to do? Some say the even bigger shame,Is that Essex victuals are just as lame.Even MG, who so loved this coast,Described a tin of hot Spam as an Essex roast. A few weeks past we cruised
The cruising log is a unique literary genre, and can take many forms. Part fact and part fiction, a log can be as tedious as a week in the Horse Latitudes and/or as dramatic as a lee shore in a heavy gale. Here we have a log relating to the AOA July 2023 cruise to the Rivers Ore and Alde, on the East Anglian coast north of Felixstowe. However, the
After spending the winter warming his weary bones on the white sands of Majorca, Billy Blister found himself propping up the bar at the Butt & Oyster. He told himself he was waiting for the tide, but his plans extended no further than closing time. Anyhow, he casually turned over the mat on which stood his pint, and low and behold, a little rhyme hove into sight… Shotley Spit is
A few English aristocrats had pleasure yachts from as early as the mid 17th century and the hobby grew considerably in the following centuries, despite remaining the preserve of the wealthy. This history charts the evolution of yachting through the golden age before the First World War and into the era of affordable dinghies, plastic moulded hulls, and the record-breaking voyages of single-handed ocean sailors in recent decades. Review: Likely