Distance run over the last 24hrs = 176 nautical miles. Miles to Grenada 1831.
A slow news day, so some philosophical meanderings…
We three aboard took this voyage of enlightenment to harness the power of this vast expanse of oceanic emptiness to reflect, evaluate, and discover the hidden depths of our souls. Clearly we must lead fairly shallow lives as we have all already finished; with the, not unsurprising, result that we are relatively insignificant in the grand scheme of things!
With 2000 nautical miles of empty horizon to cover, we invented a new game to while away the days and hours of this passage; it’s called ‘mileage countdown trivial pursuit’. Earlier on, Gen X girl Bev wowed us with pop culture facts as we eased our way down through the 1990s and 1980s - who knew one person could amass so much knowledge about Jon Bon Jovi, George Michael, and that other Wham boy that no-one remembers. As the sun dipped low, it was Baby Boomer James’s turn to recollect on the years of a troubled UK in the 1970’s of coal strikes, blackouts, 3-day weeks and general discontent. Ade ‘Old Father Time’ Leppard has a way to go yet until the countdown reaches his wonder years of the 1840’s, but he is already boring us with stories of his youth shimmying up chimneys during the heyday of the industrial revolution - we may have to end this game soon!
With little else happening aboard I shall finish with a short meander around the Englishman’s favourite topic ‘the weather’. We had a feisty 30 knots of gusts last night; good for propelling us along at excitable speed, but a tad inconvenient for evening cockpit origami lessons which have been postponed to next week. We have taken a couple of waves across the deck, but most disturbing was Bev breaking out her foulies for protection against a light rain shower… just after she’d washed and dried her hair too!
That’s it… readers of this blog will probably now be hoping, even more so than us aboard, that something - anything - of more significance happens soon. Till tomorrow, this is Falcon signing out and continuing ever westward across the big blue wobbly Atlantic.
Photo of Falcon’s blog writer extraordinaire “James”
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