Saturday, 22 August 2009

Monday, 29 September 2008

A Message from Texas Pete

Hey all,
Multi-medic Texas Pete has been stabbed in the back by all his technological equipment recently but is slowly recovering in a Portugese institution for fragmented bloggers.

By all accounts the treatment is going well and normal service should be resumed shortly.

As you can see, the surrounding area of the Texans demise is of outstanding natural beauty.
Texas Pete tells me that it is going to be difficult catching up on all the adventures in 'past-tense' However, He endeavours to persevere with the BEST BLOG ON THE GODDAM PLANET.
so before the technology decides to present further troubles, I, (Texas Petes' Spokesperson) will as asked send unending amorous vibrations to those he left behind.

Tuesday, 26 August 2008

The Wedding of The Year

Photo 1; Mr and Mrs Rolfe
Photo 2; Some wedding fodder - Very nice it was too.
Photo 3; Another fine woman off the market!

The Marriage of Sir Christopher Rolfe to Dame Claire Hill was so exclusive that neither Hello, OK, Womans Weekly nor Razzle magazines were present to expoit the photo shoot. I, however, was present to exploit the situation and publish hundreds of photos on this ere blog but on the day I experienced major power performance issues on my recently purchased Samsung D-860, which meant that all I have to show you are 3 rather unprofessional images from The Wedding of The Year. So sorry about that, since then, my new digital camera has failed on me entirely- ASDA/WALMART have fallen short of their customer promise and guarantee and I can't even vent my anger towards them as I have returned to Portugal since, Total Scum shite corporate liars. 'Thank You for shopping with us. We hope that you are fully satisfied with your product, If you have any problem with your product then this over produced pamphlet (PAMPHLET! funny word- more than funny- A little Pam- Pamela vacated the area rapidly on her 50cc scooter- please send me your opinion of Pamphlet- There will be prizes!!) contains your 1 year unconditional ASDA ARE SO BRILL guarantee. Fuckin Liars. Now I am a liar thanks to them, how can I seriously call myself multi-media Texas Pete if I havent a camera. Life really sucks sometimes, and then your mates get married and you have a real good time with LOADS of old mates that haven't been seen for years. We've all grown up now- a little maybe - but characters never change. I could of stayed for an eternity in the refurbished headland fort that hosted the ceremony and reception.
Even though we all wander through life choosing various paths, experiencing different thrills of euphoria, different times of hardships and struggles, I can honestly say that I had forgotten how good friendships never tarnish, there were so many faces from my/our past, an infinite amount of memories came flooding back.
I feel as if it was someone else, I guess it's easy to overlook ones past as one plies into the future.
On the walls of the fort, there were photo collages of Claire and Chris' friends, we all looked so young - innocently plundering the world around us.
To Claire and Chris - Thank you for everything, I truly did not want to leave that oasis of love that surrounded your precious day. Thank You also for the photo collage - It did more than give a snapshot into our pasts, It reminded me of who I am, where I came from, the friends I have stomped streets with, the same friends that I still have. I was, and still am very moved by the whole occasion. Most definately the best flight I ever did take.
To everyone else, in and not in that collage, Thank You for being my friend. xxxxxxx
As I have already stated, I could of stayed at the wedding forever but I had to get back to Newquay to get my bag and return to Exeter for my flight back to Faro to continue with

I have a feeling that I won't be back to England for awhile. Touch wood, one of these days I will be in a position to invite you all out to my place,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,Wherever that may end up being.

Ladies and Gentlemen, raise your glasses to the Bride and Groom,

Mr and Mrs Rolfe.


Wednesday, 13 August 2008

Back To Blighty Almighty

May I first of all apologise to everybody that I did not get around to visiting whilst at home, as you will read my 20 days of vacation from nautical adventures were pretty much filled with the intentional and of course the unintentional exploits of Multimedia Texas Pete.
The old expression come to mind,

'How can I control my life when I cant control my hair'

The first impression of returning home was of course the airport.
After 3 months of living on the edge of civilisation, dealing with those who also exist outside the tabloid lifestyle of western culture my blood pressur rose as soon as the first overweight sunburnt Brit barged past me to the chocolate in the duty free lounge.
After a deep breath I chose expensive truffles for Mother, 200 superkings for Father, leaving enough Euros for 5 packs of Amberleaf rather than the 10 Golden Virginia that I was hoping to a.Distribute amongst my needy peers
b. Inhale myself over the coming dose of British summer

On arrival back to The O'Connor Ranch in Newquay, my Mother looked particulary strong considering the dehabilitating health circumstances that She has been through in the previous 7 months, however, thankfully, since my departure on April 14th three months had past and an obvious three months of improvement had been quietly going on.

I think my Dad was in shock as I handed over the 200 smokes, the last time I came home from my travels bearing gifts was 1992.

A bacon sandwich and several cups of tea later my head hit the soft deep feathers of the spare rooms pillows. aaaaaaaaa!!!

The following day my folks weren't up to doing much so to my rescue, riding his Toyota Pick-up ( A.K.A. Land Rover Recovery Vehicle) strode Sir Graham of the Clan Burt to carry me away to the south coast where beautiful guitars lay restless in anticipation of the standby button being flicked to ON at another Doris Day Parking rehearsal at the Troubadour Studios Falmouth.

Hardly suprising that the boys had indeed improved as I sat listening and doing what every good roadie should do, ROLL.

With my ears and lungs full of the life I was once accustomed to we retired in preparation for the following days big outing.



DORIS DAY PARKING HAD A GIG !!!exclamations!!!

- A BIG ONE- !!!!even more exclamations!!!!

Supporting the AUSTRALIAN PINK FLOYD IN NEWQUAY- shit the bed.

I could tell the boys were a little twitchy as the night previously they actually coherently REHEARSED.

A Texas pep talk wasnt needed, they were in the zone

so with a honorary roadies pass, I was going too!

The consumate professional that I am, I arrived before the rest of THE BAND with enough plectrums to warrant my entry backstage to the greatest show on earth.

When I say I arrived before the band, not strictly true.

Graham (the guitarist) drove me (the roadie) to the gig but I still had plectrums.

With an estimated 2000 crowd the boys arrived and set up in the huge marquee-bigtop-massive tent on the Newquay Barrowfields.

Barrowfields, of course, being Barrow lands, in other words ancient burial grounds, Fuck the wierd shit, just play it loud boys, they cant hear ya down there!!!

Photo; Doris Day Parking on a really big stage.

I have tried to upload video of the boys in action but they are just too hot so hopefully soon I will attach a link for you to follow, Cool or what.

Unfortunately there were only a couple of hundred people at the venue as the boys played the early slot of 6.00 and the sun was out so most ticket holders for the event were still sunning themselves on the golden North coast beaches, I'm sure they still heard the band though, It was a memorable gig for me. Hats off to Doris Day Parking.

The following week was well chilled, just Graham, Arthur (Grahams Dog) and I, working on Grahams land in St. Austell, funnily enough after working the Lagos boatyard in 40 degree heat I found that I was burning in St. Austell!! O-ZONE MAN or the lack of. Whilst on the subject of the environment that we share, I would like to recommend a documentary called AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH. get your hands on a copy, That's it for preaching about what we already know and don't do fuck all about. Rant done. Yep.


Thanks Noel, Thanks Liam, Lord Tim Horner (a.k.a. Angry Youth, remember him?) and myself have made shedloads on the streets with Wonderwall. I promised myself (and Noel when I met him in a Newquay sports shop) that I'd stop playing it but me and Tim had a buskers reunion and still, after all these years, it's what the lager lout stag do's wanna sing to so an hour of G,Em,C and D £50 each it's off to the boozer when suddenly THE MEETING OF THE EX!!!!!! Why do ex girlfriends wanna stay friends eh? I mean why? what's the point! It's already been established that there is no future so ,,,,, Someone help me out on this one. Being in a happy frame of mind I couldn't bring myself to tell her go home to your Husband! so onwards to the rubbish (usedtobe) cheap nightclub for a booze. She said She's put on weight, I say Shes lookin great and so it continued sat outside on the grass, on the grass until the sun came up. TRIFFIC!

I miss her.

Next up comes a day that I would rather hide from. Instead I'm gonna plaster it across the web as an educational supplement for


It's high summer in Cornwall, all the kids are having fun, all the festivals are in town and 3 of my 4 brothers and sisters are going to Watergate Bay to get on down to the Stereo MCs and support, I join my brother and sisters and assorted friends, stock-up with a few crates of strongbow (courtesy of Don't Look Back in Anger) and a sherry for the girls (tee hee) and head for the beach to dance and frolic and drink and generally let our hair down. Whilst at the beach I bump into a couple of old team-mates from the Cornish Cup winning team of Godolphin Atlantic A.F.C. . . .Wonderful, Dancing and singing and falling about in the sand , What a giggle.

I'll refrain from mentioning the offending dealer of the completely legal Herbal High tablet that was administered to yours truly. For the sake of modern science I swallowed.

Well What Happened Was............

From an innocent day of gay (easy now) abandon, being buried in sand by the local rug rats (The local bobby refused to assist), performing acrobatics with visiting Brazilian students (my older brothers Brazilian English student) and generally smiling alot, Yours truly, MultiMedia Texas Pete was off his proverbial fuckin tits!

The Stereo MCs were gettin connected, I was getting connected to the Stereo MCs, especially the backing singers, well, one of the backing singers in particular. Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls everywhere, I was lost in space and in Love. My herbal tinted specs stopped the world from turning and I wanted to get myself, I wanted to get myself, I wanted to get myself connected at the groin to mrs pineapple head over yonder.

Now as luck would have it at the end of the show, someone (only God knows who, and why!) told me the band were in the tour bus in the car park. with love in my heart I went to say thank you, I love you, Have my babies.

The six-four Security Guard (6-4 being his IQ of course) had other ideas, but made one terrible error. Through the tinted windows of the tour bus, sillhouetted against the light was mrs pineapple head, unless she had a hairdo double like rockstars do.

"They're not on the bus" said 6-4 . As we all know, a man in love is not to be lied to, and the games began. Being mightily more spritely than 6-4, a game of kiss chase began with off yer face Texas playing knock down ginger with the tour bus to gain the attention and that possible incy wincy moment of eye contact with Miss MCs.

Mr. 6-4 then cheated, a liar and a cheat, what a bitch. Up strolled reinforcements in the guise of the local Bobby who didn't wanna play sandcastles earlier but wanted to play with me now. I wouldn't let him, I was possessed.

The ride to the station was a comfortable one, nice wide seats, clean upholstery etc. Here is where I must say a big YO to the Custody Sergeant (the fella behind the desk when you arrive) who in his years of policing probably realised that mine was obviously a crime of passion and was very leniant. Indeed we chatted, I told him of my travelling No Fixed Abode status and of my blog to prove it and seconds later, there it was ! on his computer screen. We chatted, Regie's a blogger too, we went out back and smoked roll-ups and drank coffee and after half an hour in Her Majesties accomodation I was free. Back in town before my brother and sisters who had to wait an eternity for a regular taxi of their own. So thanks Regie, on return to my blog, He has left a comment for all to read attached to the entry PHOTOS VIDEOS AND STORIES wishing my Mum well and good luck on my adventures. Regie has just completed a John 'o' Groats to Lands End solo charity bike ride so if anyone wants to donate to his charity then send to Regie, Newquay Police Station, Cornwall. Nice one Regie

Of all the poxy stunts I've been arrested for in the past, this one must beat them. Who of you remember when I made the Papers in 1999? Page 4 of the Guardian 'TROUSER DROPPERS HARRASS WOMEN' read the two inch headlines referring to what is commonly known as 'pulling a moony'. I smile in jest whilst under it all there is a very serious message. A.Herbal Highs are well dodgy and B. Dont play Wonderwall cause Karma's gonna land you in a whole heap 'o' doo dooze. just look at Noel and Liam.


Whilst obviously being safer at sea, Texas Pete still had 10 days of land to navigate safely. This was achieved by grounding myself playing gemstones with my big sister. Off to The Maker Festival we went. Situated on the stunning Rame peninsula, South-West of Plymouth, spending time with my siblings was one of my intended directions to take while at home and here I was accomplishing something that I set out to do, what could possibly go wrong?


We arrived at the Maker Sunshine Festival site in good time for organising the jewellery stand for the weekend. With the festival site being on a peninsula protruding into the English Channel, the weather, sunshine or no was gonna at least be windy, promising rain and maybe a ray or two of sunshine. Wellies at the ready, the construction of the stall went well in the dry and the merchandising of stock brought in the night and without inclination to erect a tent we slept in the market stall.The location that the organisers had given us for a 3x3 metre plot was only 2.5meters wide, leading to two of the four marquee legs being half a metre into the tarmac track, I looked at the tarmac, stared at the chunky pegs supplied with the marquee and wondered why I hadnt brought my power tools with me to erect a 3x3metre marquee! The remaining two legs were positioned beside a farm building with roughly 2 inches of topsoil to insert 8 inch of tent peg! awning lines and bungees and random buckets of scaffold clips held the whole show down. It's a festy, just make do the best ya can. My sister was scratching her head too and so as positively as I could said "it's a festy, let's just make of it the best we can.Running through the 3x3 plot we were given, ran the storm drain facilities, full of mud and hay and crud and general country life so I cleared them as best I could, not of course havin packed my shovel to erect a 3x3 marquee. An eventual pointless task as the stall downhill from us were already set up over their section of blocked rain channel. I'll refrain from spelling it out. My younger sister Kerry and Ohana, a family friend, had also travelled down with us and returned from the camping area asking if they could assist with anything but we had done as much as we could for that evening and decided on an early night as trading at festivals is a long day and there were 4 days of it to follow. So with plastic sheeting, blankets and sleeping bags we slept on the lumpy uneven area of land that was home til Monday.Not long after we discovered that my sisters new trading marquee was showerproof and not waterproof.Drip drip drip triffic, Come the morning my sister (Bo), the stock, the floor the blankets sleeping bags and I were sodden.I'm sure Bo would've called it a day and gone home if I wasn't there to help, I'm sure I would've called it a day and gone home if I hadn't of been there to help, we soldiered on getting slapped by wet flapping marquee awnings, jewellery boards constantly falling like dominos. What a mess.Fortunately, Bo had friends in a local village and we returned from Jason and Jaquelines with a large tarpaulin and Jaqueline was an angel tumbledrying our sleeping bags later on that day. With a reinforced stall and punters arriving we were in better spirits although the recently painted displays were somewhat tatty. It's a festival, no-one gives a damn I reassuringly insisted.It was not long after that the glands in my throat began to swell. The excesses of the previous week followed by a saturated sleep were catching up with me.

Photo; The jewellery boards were safer outside the sodden market stand gazebo thang.

The sun came out briefly, we dried the stall et al briefly but by now I could not swallow or speak. I was officially ill with three days in a windy rainy field to look forward to. What a bitch, The Falmouth Massive were at the festival providing the all night large facilities, The Heathens were playing the following day, Ruarri Joseph was playing the main stage, Dreadzone were doin their thing and all the wonderful world foods and general festival mayhem to be had and I was inna cold sweat. Balls.Of more concern to myself was if this illness worsens then I would miss Tuesdays wedding. With head throbbing I watched The Heathens' set and sadly, unable to play with my friends I retired to the car and held my head as the large bass rig shuddered through the car and my brain while I drifted in and out of sleep.I tried to man the stall as best I could, but with no powers of speech and a head like a hammer I wasn't being very benificial, Sunday night could not come soon enough, It came, we packed up the carnage and arrived home in the early hours and prepared to do it all again in the morning at the Boardmasters on Fistral beach. I'm sure life never used to be such a fuckin mission.


Strict instructions from the organisers, be at the site between 7 and 9 am because vehicles weren't allowed onsite thereafter. So at 7.05 I arrive before Bo in a taxi carrying stock to be informed that no vehicles were allowed on site until the skip lorry had done it's thing. Twats, I had to carry all the jewellery boards in the wind and rain while trying to find the organisers while explaining to security officers that I'm tryin to find which stall I'm at "Hey Boys, why don't you be secure security and watch this lot while I organise an organiser. What a crock of shit.

A 3metre x 1.5metre area was the designated plot of real estate that Bo had forked out £800 quid for. The privilege of mixing with Newquays corporate elite. Very very fortunately, the people we were to share the 3 metre x 3 metre tent with were an animal activist lot and didnt need their space to trade as they were walking around with clipboards for the duration so a whole 3x3 plot of Fistral car park was ours!!

Wind and rain came of course, it was August. Half hour later Bo arrives with all the rants that I had for the previous half hour been thinking of ranting but had no-one to rant at. Eventually a promised table had arrived and we could start turning this piece of car park into a shop. Trade was slow but there was some trade, I went home in the afternoon to organise another table as the organisers had no more even though I could see some! So off home to steal the garden furniture and return in time to help pack away.

Up the next morning for much the same but I couldn't stick around for too long,,,,,


Tune in soon for THE WEDDING OF THE YEAR, the day Mr. Chris Rolfe broke the hearts of thousands of chicks worldwide.

I've been a busy boy back in Portugal so I promise to get up to date with my blog very soon.

Multi-media Texas Pete says Chao for Now

You guys can check out Doris Day Parking on MySpace- incidentally.


Tuesday, 12 August 2008

Texas Takes Lagos (Volume 2)

Photo; Johannas and I having a terrible time in Babylon.

Photo; Dave works hard rolling roll-ups, not rolling paint onto the yacht.

Ten days later, more than 200 hours spent on Anasus' hull I even found a little time to attend to the hull of a German girl by the name of Eva, however, when she asked
"What shall I cook for dinner tonight darling?"
Multi-media Texas Pete was gone!!!

Had to attend to other more pressing matters.

My Skipper, The Doc, was due back from Southampton the following night, The Good Lady Fisher had been simply a place to rest and eat for the duration of the works in hand and needed some interior attention herself, surfaces need to be polished prior to The Return of The Doc!

Anasu needed just 'one more push' to finish before the increasing heat dried her completely and left her as a pile of old bones.

Photo; Anasu after priming

Besides, after 10 days of bad coffee from the machine in the boatyard, I had just found the button that provided a long strong sweet cappucino for 40 European centimes.
I had far more pressing engagements than getting engaged to the lovely Eva, no matter how handsome was her transom.

Photo; Varying Degrees of Completion

Photo; Dave puts His fag out and applies the finishing touches, I did the rest!

At last came the morning of the launch, I was late!!!
After a hedonistic night of undying passion

I eventually freed myself from the Germanic talons and was late for the re-launching of Anasu.
Only 5 minutes too late but GODDAMN.

Dave was already steering Anasu back round to the Marina where I met up with him and apologisingly celebrated with a big fry-up and pint in the Lazy Jacks Bar.

The Doc returned to a clean Lady Fisher, Dave payed up the balance for my work,

Our next move was to Alvor a short way down the coast,

My next move , while I had the cash in my pocket, was to book a flight home to the Marriage of Mr. Chris Rolfe and Ms Claire Hill.

Alvor was beautiful, but after waking on the yacht, a dinghy to town, a bus to the railway station, a train to another town another bus to the Airport.

With Three clicks of my Ruby Red DCSHOECOMPANY heels,

Multi-media Portugeezer Texas Painting Pete was flying home

Texas Takes Lagos (Volume 1)

Photo; Never too busy to create on two hobs

Photo; The poor old Hull of Anasu- Gimme Some Lovin'
Photo; Lots of Scraping Later............

Photo; THE BOYS; L-R Incidental German Bloke Holgar, Johannas The Large, Senor Dave and The Portugeezer Pete with Portugeezer Moustache.

The Lagos Days,
The Doc returned to Southampton for a fortnight, leaving Dave, Johannas and Myself to the rigors of Babylon, Full English Breakfasts, Happy Hour Pints of Portugese Lager and Girls Girls Girls.
No time for loving in the Algarve. 'ANASU' Daves beloved Old Wood Boat needed all the love we had to spare.
In the 35 degree heat ANASU was lifted out of the water and the removal of 40 years of anti-fouling on her hull commenced.
As a result of the heat, the timbers of Anasu were going to dry out FAST.
We had a selection of fine scrapers and an English Pub 'LAZY JACKS' to keep us powered up with real bacon and sausages and beans.
Lazy Jacks Bar also gave me the opportunity to play my dulcit tones for the Lagos Massif at open mic nite, leading to 'Joao and Malcolm' (artisan musicians from The School of Dramatic Artisan Bohemian Dramatic Musician Society Instituted Darlings) inviting me to play on their own night at the pub which lead to 'Kai' (University of I'll watch the tele whilst hacking out busking classics at maximum volume, the correct lyrics don't mean a damn if I'm still getting paid after all these years, I ROCK Society) inviting me to play my toons whilst he took a spliff break round the corner behind the bins. Sadly reminding me of me at my very worst!!!! Although my lack of an unfortunate lisp made me feel better about not being quite as bad as Kai at my Very worst,, and my interlude jokes are infinately funnier. Lisp or no.Photo; Joao, Malcolm and I, Kai in the background chin on hand (charismatic fellow!!)
So inbetween all this newfound local fame, Anasu needed stripping, filling, priming, repairing, painting, polishing and LOVING.
Johannas helped for a couple of days repairing the rudder but apart from that it was up to Mr David Coady (remember the fella who gave me a beer on arrival in La Coruna while I was containing my desire to inflict pain on my original skipper Paddy- Captain Cock) well thats Dave.
From now on He shall be referred to as Dave.
Cyberspace wants me to publish now, Volume 2 of Texas Takes Lagos following Dreckly.

Log on to see the NEW ANASU in glorious Technicolor

Monday, 14 July 2008

Photos, Videos and Stories.

Check out whose driving! This was in Cascais, The most expensive marina so far. The coastal resort for playboys and girls from Lisbon.
I met a cool Brazilian hippy couple who had been in Portugal for a fortnight with little handmade gems and a guitar, We hooked up, played some funky beach vibes and made €20, they were stoked having never made that kind of wedge since arriving. I have a video of William but unfortunately it's too many Megabytes to upload.

I have been meeting so many quality musicians on this trip that I have a dream of bringing them all to England for a tour, maybe one day.
Alrighty then, back to sailing.
The Voyage down as follows, Leiceos, Cascais, Peniche, Sines. It was in Sines that we caught up with an Irish lad 'Dave' who was the fella who gave me a cool beer when I was feeling like throttling my old skipper Paddy in La Coruna, He departed La Coruna a couple of days into my month of babysitting The Lady Fisher. It was cool to catch up with a familiar face, Ian and Myself had been together for a while by this time and another friend to converse with was much welcomed.
We stayed in Sines for about 12 days . The birthplace of Vasco De Gama (the Portugeezer who discovered India, if not for Vasco we Brits wouldnt have corner shops or curries, a VERY important sailor) Sines is a beautiful small town politically overrun with an oil refinery that was installed some time ago, so the authorities are trying very hard to install Culture and Arts and Music into the town to counterbalance the effect of the refinery and the Authorities are winning ! lots of vibrant concerts and exhibitions, theatres and museums it was a cool stopover but inevitably The Lady Fisher was chomping to sail, Onwards, around the Capo De San Vicente into The Algarve. Accompanied by Dave in his ship 'Anasu'

Travelling in tandem with Dave has been awesome, MANY beers and laughs, Dave, Ian and Myself have been like a trio of adolescents. anchored by the beach in Sagres, jumping off the boats into warm sea water, life at anchor is so much more rewarding than staying in marinas, the heightened sense of freedom leads to a healthier soul, even if sleeping patterns are upset through mild paranoia of The Lady Fisher slipping her anchor and smashing us to certain death on the rocks that loom menacingly. Also because of the lack of light pollution, the stars are magnificant, reminding me of how I fell for sleeping under the night sky all those years ago. If only I could understand Sir Patrick Moore.
Whilst at anchor in Sagres, during the night sky performing for the boys, another ship came an anchored close by.
The following day Ian, Dave and I were having a healthy day,trying desperately to reverse the aging process of 3 middle aged men. NO BOOZING, lots of swimming, diving, salads and copious amounts of water (35 degrees hot).
There was no sign of movement onboard our new neighbour flying a German flag.
We wanted healthy,
We really did
At around 4 pm the Deutshlander emerged, a brute of a man rowing a tiny dinghy waving a fourpack of booze 'Hello! I am Johannas. You must take a beer with me!' He cried as he rowed his oversized frame towards us.
How could we refuse, Now we were four, an awesome fortnight with Johannas was to follow-
He liked us.
What a Dude, He had just sailed from Germany solo handed, on the first stage of his two year round the world voyage, to take on the two Capes, Good Hope and Good Horn, many sailors circumnavigate, avoiding the Capes, prefering the gentler routes , taking the canals of Panama and Suez, this is why they were built, to make circumnavigation easier.
That evening we decided to dine ashore, we showered, shaved and donned our finest clobber to woo and wow the local beach bar Hunnies!
A swell was building in the bay as we prepared the dinghies for departure, getting to the beach was going to be tricky as the waves dumped upon the shore.
Dave, Ian, Myself in a larger dinghy with motor, Johannas in his tiny dinghy rowing- rowing almost as fast as we motored!!!!
We reached the shore just before Johannas, judging the swell correctly and beaching ourselves without too many problems.
As we turned to see how Johannas was fairing, a wave picked him up and upturned the tiny dinghy, all we saw was this huge German in His tiny dinghy being launched onto the shore backwards. In his black jeans and black t-shirt , Dumped and turned and dumped again, All because the lady loves milk tray was all I could think of as I rescued his phone, camera and cigars from the sand.
He took it well, undressing, wringing out his clothes, redressing and on to the restaurant. CLASSIC.!
On returning to the anchored yachts we lost Ian to the waves. Negotiating surf in dingies and anchoring in general is alot more fun than marina life.

One more night at anchor and then onto Lagos,

And that will be my next publication