The Pensioner’s many tales of maritime merriment have led me to take the plunge (hopefully not too literally).
Can’t wait to see the faces of the guys in the Royal Hibernian Yacht Club, when I park my sleek vessel next to theirs.*
Here we see Luca finding his marks around the aft** cabin.
You’ll have to imagine his heftier dad occupying the engine room just behind. And the rear platform is conveniently fitted with a bungee cord, to secure the beers.
Now all I am waiting for is the arrival of Odyssey’s finest neoprene apparel, to cling tight to my voluptuous shapes (Short – XL, that was a touch hard to swallow… And I’ll be floating in it, when I’ve lost all the weight…), my Typhoon 50 N buoyancy aid, and some clement weather.
In other words, it could be another while before the bottle of Perrier Jouet smashes against the hull of this floating beauty as she sets off on her maiden voyage.
The guy in the shed factory where I bought it in Kilkenny was most helpful (for a guy who builds sheds and lives 40 km from the nearest coastline, he knows a lot about sea kayaks).
He asked what colour I wanted (there was also blue, and yellow).
I just asked for the flashiest colour so as to minimise the risk of being sliced in two by a speeding motor yacht.
Not sure the bright colour will make much difference.
These guys are usually libidinous CEOs in their late fifties taking impressionable younger personal assistants for a spin. They are usually too busy staring at a micro bikini to waste any time scanning the flat surface of the Irish sea around them for sea kayakers in search of fresh mackerel for tea…
* Oops, shite, just found out that there is a long-ish waiting list measured in decades, and that you have to be a wealthy pillar of the local protestant community. I have been Church of Ireland for less than 150 days, and am a medical card holder, my chances of finding a referrer are pretty slim…
* *What? Aft is at the rear? Shite, they are really going to mock me at the Admiral’s Annual Ball…