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Lady Ann - An increasing state of disrepair



Since the previous log entry the atmosphere on board has changed remarkably. It has taken a couple of high tension phone calls for Maria to get back on speaking terms with her boyfriend. She keeps her diary very close and has been spotted sleeping with it safely tucked away under her pillow.

Thomas has also gotten very particular about his pillow. He exchanged it for a bright yellow version that at closer inspection turned out to be one of our Grab bags. He clings to it with a maniacal expression in his eyes and started hissing at everyone getting closer then five meters to it. This made some of the crew rather nervous. We have had to sedate him with a mean concoction of a random selection from the on board pharmacy.

Unfortunately Davide's situation has also deteriorated. Until a few days ago we could still have a decent conversation with him in between his daydreaming and his glassy staring across to the western horizon. It now proves impossible to talk to him for more then a minute without him changing the subject ever so subtly to the objects of his desire and the topic of his obsession: women & sex respectively. Him being from Sardinia of course to a large extent this should have been expected, but it is really embarrassing to see him frantically scanning the fleet position report for yachts in the vicinity with girls on board he might know, or to see his eyes gloss over (again) at the mere mention of bananas or melons when discussing what to have for desert. We have even caught him practising his English while at the helm, declaring loudly to the stars inthe sky 'I am Gods gift to womankind'.

Fritze seems to have been permanently affected by the 'Total F**k Up Day' trauma. We can't really tell what it is but he simply doesn't seem to beable to get his act together any longer. And it does not seem to help that we keep telling him that we really don't mind that he couldn't import the fleets position into MaxSea. Ever since he has this strange urge to make himself useful resulting for instance in him baking bread when we still have perfectly good bread available. Or in him asking for sandpaper and a pot of varnish and a brush to patch up Lady Ann's perfectly well varnished caprail. Inspecting this caprail he keeps uttering apologies for having stepped on it or having scratched it during his inspection. Bending down for another inspection he allows us a hairy (and scary) look on hisgenerous butt cleavage.

Ingo in the mean time has turned into Lady Ann's ballet dancer. Having played Ice Hockey for more than 50 years his sence for balance is close to perfection. The yachts irratic movements do not seem to affect him.

While we are all clumsily trying to swing from one handhold to the other, Ingo gracefully glides along as if we were firmly docked in St. Lucia, hugging his 'Boat Owner's Manual' with one hand and holding a cup of coffee in the other. By contrast Ingo has taken the killing of our catch of the day to the max. In fact he is willing to go to such extremes in this respect thatit is getting out of hand. We could just keep him from flinging himself overboard, knife firmly clenched between his teeth, blood thirsty look in his eyes, on top of another hooked Dorado to speed up the killing.

Always active, sometimes over active, Frank unfortunately suffered a severe 'burn, or rather melt down'. After his initial rush of activity, Frank has succumbed to a general state of total nothingness. He didn't fish, he didn't do the thing with the 'sextant' (much to Davide's regret), and he didn't do his laundry, he even officially declared that he wouldn't even read any longer.

Ronald, to finalise the summing up of the decline of the atmosphere onboard, is still looking at the stanchion with big question marks in his eyes. And to make matters worse, this morning we discovered that one of the cars that hold the mainsail to the mast, has detached itself from the sail. Ronald has spent a full day sowing the cars to the mainmast back in Las Palmas and no matter how many times we tell him that this could have happened to anyone, he still seems to take this as (yet another) defeat for which no one but himself can be blamed. Reassuring words to the contrary, a nicely heated noodle soup, not even a well timed ice cold can of beer can cheer him up.

But there is also good news. In all this increasing misery Edo seems totally unaffected. Solid as a rock, cheerful and optimitic as ever, he admirably tries to keep everybody in line and focussed. To many it might seem like a lost battle, but come what may, Edo doesn't show his desperation and will do everything in his power to get his slowly degenerating crew safely across the ocean.


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