No sex please

Seagulls and bouncing bombs, Lowestoft to Ipswich.

8th June 2011

Lowestoft to Ipswich

Rampant seagulls in Lowestoft


We discovered very quickly in Lowestoft when it is time to move. Then there are times when you are helped to move on by events or in our case, seagulls.

vicious seagulls in Lowestoft

No sex please were British Seagulls

In Lowestoft it was the seagulls or should I say two particular rampant and very noisy seagulls. They performed hourly public displays very close to our boat (although not close enough to hit with stones collected for their aerodynamic qualities). Every morning, evening and often during the day as well they were at it, one on top of the other, wings flapping for balance and making the loudest noises imaginable. Afterwards he would just hop off and was gone. No thank you, no kiss or hug, just gone, no doubt to get his head down or have a cigarette. There may be something nostalgic about the farmyard cock crowing in the morning but there was nothing nostalgic about this.These two should have been on Sky Sports.

 

Barnes Wallice and the bouncing bomb.

Whilst we were in Lowestoft we found that we could not get a TV picture. That was bad as England were playing football or at least attempting to do so. Terry, a very amiable and fascinating Canadian on the boat next door but one invited us to watch his TV and have a couple of Coors beers. He was telling us about being a Navy Pilot during the Vietnam conflict and working with Barnes Wallice of bouncing bomb fame. Then we were joined by Dave and Wendy from another boat.  John on the boat next door then came on board followed by Angelina. I don’t know where the time went or the alcohol but by midnight we had drunk everything we could lay our hands on. There was only one thing left to do so we found ourselves looking for the obligatory kebab or Chinese takeaway. We even managed to barter extra food to be thrown in. I got them to write my name in Chinese although Angelina thinks he may have just written “Dick head” so I may not get it tattooed anywhere.

There were some very red eyes and sore heads the next morning but we were enriched by meeting some more wonderful people on our travels.

The following day the seagulls were still going hard at it so we decided to get going as well. We had a wonderful eight hour sail down to Ipswich and at one point Jordan had the boat sailing at over 10 knots. To the uninitiated 10 knots in a boat under sail is pretty fast and to car owners without sails it cost us less than a pound in fuel.

 

Sailing to Ipswich

Up the Orwell to Ipswich

Up the Orwell to Ipswich

Coming up the River Orwell to Ipswich we had another member of our crew jump over the side. This time it was “Frank the fender” but with the aide of “Brian the boat hook” from Lowestoft we soon had him back where he was supposed to be.

Before we were even rafted up in Ipswich, a live aboard who runs the bar and cooks fantastic food here was shouting his welcomes. He does not usually open the bar at night but arranged to do so to welcome us back. He has also invited along other live aboard’s from the Marina for us to meet. We have to say that we really do feel humbled and honoured to be living the life we are and to meet such wonderful and friendly people.

 

Apologising for the moon.

Before I close this blog I owe someone a very large apology. Alan and Christine from Hull helped make our stay there very enjoyable. On one occasion we all went out for a large drink and Alan left his camera on board by mistake. It seemed a good idea when fuelled by alcohol to leave a picture on his camera to remember us by. You know the type, a good full moon. Anyway we returned the camera and said nothing. What we didn’t realise was that Christine had visited a relatives grave and taken pictures to show the family. As she was showing them guess who turned up in the middle of the sequence. Alan and Christine, what can I say? Sorry and it was all Angelina’s idea. Before they find us it is time to leave Ipswich and go elsewhere. Well anywhere apart from Lowestoft.

 

Swan

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