January Newsletter:
Dear friends and family
In my dictionary the word “FROG” has a plethora of meanings…
A FROG is a small tailless amphibian with long back legs
A FROG is a tough flexible pad in the middle of the sole of a horses hoof;
A FROG is a kick used in swimming breaststroke
A FROG is a steel plate used at a rail intersection
A FROG is an ornamental loop and button on a garment
A FROG is a support for flowers in an arrangement
A FROG is a nut used to tighten the strings on a violin (did you know that?)
And then finally the dictionary says
A FROG is a taboo term for a French person.
But our interpretation is:
Well wait till the end. I don’t want to influence your thoughts….
We meet all sorts and sometimes the strangest people while cruising
Some such are a bunch of,
well,
Frogs.
A species of red, white and blue French Flag-Flying cruisers.
Let me explain.
There are these crazy people….see what I mean?
Figure 1 Francoise, Cath (they are the mother and the father)
and Olivier and Gaelle are the froglets (shame, they didn’t have a chance)
Just so that you can make up your own minds, I will introduce them individually:
There is:
Figure 2 Francoise the Dad frog
Doesn’t he look the picture of innocence? (He’s actually a lot younger than he looks, but older than he thinks he is) And don’t be fooled; he may look like an intelligent, well-built, handsome, easy going, harmless sort of FROG, but in actual fact, there is quite a seedy side to the man.
For example: he talks of “Keeping His Hand on the Bottom” of the lady in the office (whose bottom is, if the truth were known, two axe handles wide which would take both of his hands, so he isn’t being fanatically honest either)
Then there is:
Figure 3 Cath; the Mom frog
Well, what can I say (she is my best yachtie friend so I can’t knock her too much) But I have to tell you truthfully:
Sometimes I really get homesick for Africa when I’m with her.
It’s the witchdoctors, you see.
If she had a black skin painted white, (instead of a white skin sometimes painted black) had a bladder tied in her hair and threw “the bones” I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. There are times when I see her on all fours with her family in tow – like a mommy pig and her piglets snuffling for truffles on the beach behind where Katrine is moored, digging for “mud muti”. (Muti is the African term for medicine) She says it’s a black clay that has medicinal healing properties (see what I mean?) and you wont believe where I’ve seen this stuff….I’ve seen clay bound around a foot to mend a broken bone, plastered on singed fingers to heal a burn, patted onto a midriff for a tummy ache….AND I even saw one of the lads at the Mutiara Riding Stables with a lump of clay on his head. He said it was to cure his receding hair-line! (sadly it didn’t work on Francoise)
Just mention that you are not feeling well and the potions appear. Take a look at this one and tell me I’m being dramatic……
Figure 4 "Tea" Can you see something with a face in there?
That was to sort out our food poisoning.
Its all so confusing, but to prove what excellent friends we are, we nod our acceptance of their strange concoctions and obediently swallow them all. I even have to admit that when they arrived on Katrine one day with his long and involved tried-and-true recipe for Cabbage Soup that was supposed to melt the fat off our bodies, we fell for it – hook, line and sinker. It nearly killed us. But every day we were encouraged to persevere and only on day five, when we noticed their dinghy was hailing us from afar did we begin to twig. We nearly blew Katrine right out of the water with the rumbles of flatulence.
OK Guys…remember – he who laughs last, laughs loudest, or as Don says, Every dog has his day, But this bulldog is going to have a weekend!
But to continue:
There are these two beautiful innocent children:
Figure 5 Gaelle our beautiful daughter
Despite the fact that there is a little confusion as to her parentage (she behaves more like us, so we think its fairly clear) and despite her FROG connection, our Gaelly is a darling whom we love dearly and whom we are still planning to steal before she is too badly influenced.
And lastly, but not leastly: Our son, Olivier who managed to escape but unfortunately for us, is back in Froggieland:
Figure 6 Olivier when he was healthy and tanned and living on Windcall (good looking hey girls?)
We are told he is at university studying….it seems, by the sound of the parties, anatomy and chemistry?
(We are still trying to figure out how to fix the windlass, but a pretty accurate model still works!)
And so there you have it. Oh I could go on and on and on with the stories but I’m sure you get the gist of what I’m saying?
Our interpretation of a FROG?
Four Roux’s Oh m’Gawd!
P.S.
So. We found this very inexpensive haul-out facility to do Windcall’s anti-fouling.
But there were a few pro’s and con’s.
The Pro’s were,
- It was inexpensive. (in fact it was free)
- There was cheap labour (in fact it was also free)
- There was cheap accommodation, food and drink. (in fact that, too was free)
But there was a big disadvantage…..
Windcall’s old antifouling had lost its effectiveness and there was a multitude of aquatic life that lived on the hull. Waste deep in the water, we set to cleaning the barnacles and limpets off her bottom, and collecting the muscles that hung there in their abundance. Then, to my mortification, I found that a few swimming prawns had found their way into another shelter in their haste to escape our scraper:
Figure 7 the discovery
Figure 8 and the mirth
These are our friends.