So, little time for wasting it in front of a computer. That's why my blogging rate inevitably drops as the weather improves, and it's the same for all the others I follow.
Yesterday, for example, was a classic case in point. A glorious spring day, the whole of which was spent working on club boats down at the shore where the Royal Loch Broom Sailing Club has its elegant clubhouse...
|Commodore Copestake in front of the clubhouse. Lady member Margaret Steventon sits at the table where a light al fresco luncheon will soon be served by the club steward.|
Meanwhile, hard at work, the club bosun and a team of paid hands in spotless, monogrammed overalls, are carefully burnishing the antifouling on the fleet of brand-new Flying Fifteens. Nearby, members' cruising yachts - a collection of some of the finest marques - in handsome, purpose-built cradles await launching day.
|The Royal Loch Broom, with sweeping lawn(s) down to the sea, the elegant clubhouse to the right and a selection of members' yachts on purpose-built trailers.|
In the evening, the commodore and his lady wife and members of the committee sit at the top table, under the club role of honour, distinguished yachtsmen all, with a range of gallant exploits to their names: an ambitious circumnavigation of the remote Summer Isles; a daring attempt to force a passage through the Sound of Harris; a late season cruise to Badachro...
|The club launch, which ferries crews to and from the fleet of Flying Fifteens, can be seen dried out alongside the jetty. The absence of members suggests that luncheon is being served in the walnut-panelled dining room...|