Missed chances and blubometers

Here's a picture of a ploughed field just beyond Mylor Harbour. I loved the furrows in contrast to the skyline and the trees..... and it's to cheer up one of my dearest friends who is having a really terrible time at the moment.

After the tumultuous last few weeks, my flat is quiet all of a sudden. Last night was the first I’d spent alone for five weeks. The lone sailor is on his boat in St Mawes, as we speak, testing the autopilot. And after the roaring adrenaline of last week, I am exhausted so it's good to have time and peace to myself.

While it would have been lovely to have gone as well, my stomach is not up to getting in and out of dinghies, let alone climbing ladders or hauling sheets (ropes) or being tossed around (it’s very lumpy out there today). I had thought that as the six week period approaches I would feel magically better. While I am much more mobile and able to get around more, I’m still wary about driving (in case I have to do an emergency stop), my stitches tug a lot of the time, and I'm still having to wear baggy clothes which makes me feel somewhat androgynous, which is not me at all.

I was to have gone on a press jolly today, on a ferry welcoming the Tres Hombres tall ship into Falmouth. Sadly the PR rang me - they’ll be going two miles out into the Bay and she was worried in case it might be a bit rough for me (ie my stitches). I consulted with weather forecast, lone sailor and others and decided, reluctantly, to err on the side of caution. Not like me, but I so want to get better as soon as I can and I daren’t risk anything that might set me back. And on the bright side, it means I don't have to cancel our singing rehearsal.

Still, I’m meeting the ship’s cook on Thursday for an interview, so hopefully I will be able to get on board without mishap and have a good snoop which will be just as interesting, and without the fear of being seasick. (Though I can't wait to get on the water.)

I went to singing for the last 15 minutes last week and we sang The Lower Lights which always tends to make me a bit misty eyed. I’d had a very busy week work wise and was coming to the end of four deadlines so I was stressed and over emotional, and the words made me think of losing Pip, as they always do. Of the special men in my life. Of how we just never know what’s going to happen (which can be a blessing). Soon I was gulping hard - not easy when you’re trying to sing. In fact, impossible.

When we finished, by which time I was a blotchy eyed mess, our musical director looked over at me and said fondly, “Oh Sue. You’re my blubometer. If you don’t cry when we sing that number, I know we’ve done something wrong.”

And lastly, here's a sun drenched bank of primroses down at Helford Village on Sunday,with Cornwall looking at its very best.