Move over Robbie Burns!

Brendan and Ellen’s Adventure to Warsash

“What event shall we go to?” Ellen did muse.
 “Well, at Tynemouth there will be lots of free booze.
 But Warsash is the one I think I will choose.
 Quick Brendan, let’s go – there’s no time to lose.”

Her driving’s erratic, is the end nigh?
 Brendan did wonder as he let out a sigh.
 “At least it’s hot and the boat should get dry,
 But that won’t matter if I’m going to die!”

The fleet was stacked, some great boats to mention:
 Ben Whaley, whose brow was crinkled in tension,
 Iain Martin, so old he’s collecting a pension,
 Tommy, Ollie and more – it was quite the collection.

“Quickly,” said Ellen, “we must rig up fast!”
 But in our haste, we lost a halyard up the mast.
 “Oh no, without that we will finish last!”
 But Will Taylor helped us out like he has in the past.

“Where’s the windward mark?” said Brendan on his way up the first beat.
 “The black one,” said Ellen, as she hiked off her feet.
 “But there’s four marks to windward, all a dark shade of peat…”
 So they chose one at random – and it worked out a treat.

Upwind, Owen had a beautiful slot,
 But downwind our boat was coming in hot.
 But alas, there was a twist in the plot,
 When the outer trapezoid mark we forgot.

Boats lined up for race 2 of the day.
 As it turned out, the left was starting to pay.
 Up the first beat, Tommy’s boatspeed was slay,
 But downhill, Owen’s skill let the pair fly away.

The next start had everyone fighting for the pin.
 Ben tried to work through the fleet as he was in the bin.
 Merick held him off though, with a cheeky ol’ grin.
 A fair race from all – there was no need to spin.

The race committee decided on a fourth race with excellent foresight.
 With tomorrow’s wind, this decision proved right.
 With the breeze up again, the racing was tight,
 Then the fleet headed home for an excellent night.

Once ashore, all the sailors could grab a drink.
 James and Ross fixed their boat, which had started to sink.
 The chilli was eaten before you could blink,
 Then the sailors headed home to grab forty winks.

Sunday morning dawned and the wind was quite fresh.
 We worried our legs might not be up to the test.
 But we needed to know whose sailing was best,
 So we sailed out and away from the west.

After the start, most boats tacked onto port.
 Owen, Tommy and Iain couldn’t be caught.
 When many boats capsized, everything else counted for nought.
 In the end, the Pro decided a sixth race shouldn’t be sought.

So in the end, Owen and Ben were victorious.
 Anything else I could say would be spurious.
 And I’m starting to find writing this poem laborious,
 So thanks to all for the weekend – I thought it was glorious.

Brendan Lynch

Results, prize winners, link to Oli King's fab photos, video by Liam Willis and Warsash SC video