Its your fault

Trapped in Brest with Mosquitoes for company

12th September 2011
Brest

 

Trapped in Brest with Mosquitoes for company!

 Brest is big


Big Breasts in Brest

No, not those Breast’s

I didn’t think I would ever say this but I’m fed up of being trapped in Brest and the mosquitoes here don’t help.  It is time to be weaned, to get onto solids and move on. I cannot even blame late night sessions on the bottle or the French fishing fleet for blockading the ports because their prime minister, for once, is NOT having an affair.

 

It is your fault we are still here.

The reason that we are still in Brest is down to all you inconsiderate people who gulp down cereal and milk in the morning, oh and Northerner’s. Don’t look bewildered and innocent as I have had time to work it all out. I also have a stack of eminent scientific papers to back me up. The weather here has really been blowing for a couple of days. I can only attribute this to global warming. Now stay with me here but I believe the global warming is caused by methane from Daisy three bellies incessant flatulence. It is therefore quiet obvious that if you ate toast in the morning with jam (no butter please) then we would have a change in the weather and we could leave in glorious sunshine. I know Donald Trump does not believe in global warming but with his hot air he is one of the biggest contributors.

 

Northerners are the worst

Stuck in Brest

Stuck in Brest

As for Northerners, they may only eat diced whippet and tripe in the morning but compound the problem by spooning down mountains of mushy peas. If you’re eating habits do not change then I have personally asked Al Gore to authorise the dropping of Agent Orange on our green and pleasant lands. Then Daisy has nothing to eat apart from her friends. It’s up to you but a scorched earth policy means that global warming will be ended and we can move on.  That’s far more important than having your fortified vitamin B and E in the morning.

 

Mosquitoes leave lady lumps in all the wrong places

Now Angelina may have a slight problem with what I have suggested. Not that she is a tree hugger or eats mushy peas. It is the hot weather she has problems with but it brings out her arch-enemy, the Mosquitoes. They love to gorge themselves on her and she has lady lumps in all the wrong places which is so confusing.

mosquitoes

Mosquitoes. Like a woman they can cause you a lifetime of pain

I don’t even know if she is facing towards or away from me when the lights go out. We have sought help and a Basil tree apparently keeps the little buggers away in which case she would gratefully be a tree hugger. In fact she would walk around like “Morrisy from the Smiths” if it would help keep the Mosquitoes away from her body parts. We do have the netting but didn’t have it up as it was the first time we had met them. They must have sent out an advanced scouting party, well camouflaged with orders to lay low as we have not even seen them. By day they must hide and merely observe but when the sun goes down Angelina is convinced that Mosquitoes have night vision goggles. They wait until she is asleep, abseil down to her, get the picnic table out and feast. She now says she is going to bed each night dressed as a Ninja so they cannot get to her. Does anyone know of a Basil smelling French maid’s outfit which I would much prefer her to wear?

 

What to do in bad weather

The other problem associated with bad weather is that as part of my stress relief therapy I have to find alternative things to do. I have tried joining all the bites on Angelina to see if Satan is trying to send us a message but he is either writing in an undecipherable code or it is Chinese for sweet and sour chicken. I have cleaned the boat, fixed and checked as many things as I can but sustenance is running low which means we will have to go to the shop again. I don’t mind food shopping the same as I don’t mind eating a McDonald’s apple pie straight out the oven, but walking from here into Brest means climbing lots and lots of steps.

The stairs in Brest

Getting off Brest marina

All three hundred and forty-eight, not that I’m counting but it always makes me feel like putting a hoody on, spinning round at the top and raising my hands in the air “Rocky” style. I say it makes me feel like this because usually I need to put on an oxygen mask and the only thing I can raise is my blood pressure.

 

We need to get lessons from a gynaecologist

Before we go anywhere on Cygnus III you are supposed to do something called a passage plan which sounds to me more like something that gynaecologists do. Anyway a passage plan consists of things like weather, getting out of wherever you are, the route, entry to a new port and alternatives should you end up in the brown smelly stuff( just like a gynaecologist really but as they would say, “were looking into it”).

Anyway, Jordan is doing the next passage plan so if there are no blogs in future it may be because we are somewhere where we shouldn’t be, like a rock. I remember once asking him to take the helm and shout if any boats were coming towards us whilst I went below. When I came up we were just about to run onto an island. His excuse; he had only been told to watch out for boats, not land. OK, granted he was six at the time but he has to take responsible for his actions and a quick keel hauling soon reinforced the message.

 

Health and safety

Our berth here has just become something akin to a crime scene without the bodies. I suppose they could ship a couple in from UK Hoody-Ville. We have plastic tape everywhere. Turns out our space is reserved for some 80 ft. racing boat to come in tomorrow. This is unusual as the French are not renowned for doing anything fast. They are like three-toed sloth’s playing hide and seek… 48 million coming ready or not, oh your still there!

They also have fishing rods bionically attached to their arms at birth. The one thing you won’t find the French wearing are those fluorescent jackets that everyone has to wear in the UK for health and safety reasons. Oh I wish I had invented them. They are the cat’s eyes of the modern generation. If you don’t have a fluorescent jacket it means you are nobody. I bet there is a heretical system depending on the colour you wear. Even accountants in offices have them for when they drop a pencil.

Anyway, back to the berth. We have to leave Brest by mid-day tomorrow, global warming or no global warming, so it looks like an early start depending on where Jordan takes us. It is likely to be somewhere that sells X-Box games and has no Mosquitoes.

 

Swan

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