Red faced and loving it.... part one

Warning: this post is related to a different kind of Craft...and comes to you in editions..because there's so much to brag about.  I want to record the last weekend here for loads of reasons; to share, to thank, and because Mr Dunnit described it as one of the best weekends of his life.  Now that's lyrical. So here's the scene setting post.  

When my parents lived in Australia, I had a conversation with them about how often we would visit. We were on our second visit in four years and I laughingly pointed out that we saw less of our Cousins who live in Cornwall. Well, twenty odd years later, we've rectified that.  Thanks to Facebook, decent familial communication has taken place over a couple years and Me and Mr Dunnit found ourselves wanting to go see the Tall Ships at Falmouth last weekend.  I have no sea connections, but the combination of sail and sea - possibly the romance? - made me want to be there.  Weird huh. 

You had to be there to fully appreciate my excitement....and we really were....in the (normal sized) yacht at front right...that's me right at the front pointy end...

The stars aligned, and we went to visit with the Cornish cousins.  Oh my life.  They live a very outdoors based lifestyle.  They always have, but now they live by the sea too - so it is inevitably a wet outdoorsy lifestyle.  I (we, this end of the family) is really not outdoorsy.  I craft..it's an indoor hobby...enough said.  Everything we did and they planned was focussed on the Tall Ships Regatta and our seeing and experiencing as much of it as possible.  Which means the cousins put up with landlubber behaviour.  Oh yeah.

Saturday evening was fine proof.  Wrapped up warm in our non-waterproof, non sports style coats and wearing fairly obviously quite new trainers (but at least not specifically bought for the occcasion!), we went to watch fireworks from the water.  We used the 'launch'.  It was a wooden boat, as big as a dingy with an outboard motor.  Kindly and with high regard for landlubber safety, Robin leapt into it at it's mooring, fired it up and brought it around to a pier so that we could simply step into it.  Yeah.  Step.  You aren't allowed to step onto the plank-type seats, obviously.  So step off the pier and down into the boat. Easy. For everyone except me apparently.  I couldn't see the bottom (it was dark, remember) and of course, managed to step onto the slopey side.  Which inevitably caused alarming listing, rocking and erm, falling. Luckily, I fell into the launch and didn't wobble anyone out of it.  Hilarious.  The Cousins must be used to it because I think they laughed with me.  I'd like to point out that the pier from which I fell into the launch is completely and thoughtfully covered in a brilliant non slip material.  I swear it's a thin layer of sand and broken glass.  I should know.

Have you ever watched fireworks from the water?  They were launched on a headland and so we got the most amazing view, total darkness and - big bonus - really muffled sound.  It was marvellous.  Nor can I understate the thrill of being in a group of fifty-some-things and going out for fun at about 8.30 on a Saturday night...come on - usually we're coming home at that point!  Remember too, all of this time, that me and Cousin Jane are talking.  Really, talking and not letting the boys get a word in really.  I remember four lots of laughter though, so can only assume that they were enjoying our noise!

We motored gently back to the pier and disembarked.  I just don't have long enough legs. And now, apparently, I have no dignity either.  I could only reach the pier by getting out (I can't call it disembarking) in a kneeling/crawling position.  It's OK gentle reader, despite being lit with a sea faring style street lamp, I like to think that the light was so poor that no-one will have noticed.  Except my knees and hands....argh, that non-slip surface! 
We were tired - Jane says it's the negative Ions and sea air.  I believe her because I'm totally caught up in it.  And let's face it, it can't be our hosts making us yawn like that; perhaps the wine and late night chat had something to do with it. Who knows.  To bed, ignorant of the way you actually physically get on a yacht and therefore with a head full of fireworks and the joy of family reunions.