May Day's

A rugged, cold high pressure draws in Northerly winds, this is the start of May. Gone the balmy days of Aprils sun showers, where the Quay filled with basking dollies and dudes, sunshaded and barely chested, blanketed out, absorbing every ounce of the sea's airs and graces.

May brings, 'paying for the visit and for a shower yachts and yachties', as my own Merchant Navy mermaid escapes my net to swim back to her other world across the sea, leaving me alone to survive the season. A season that starts with Inspecting boat surveyors with a unique perception of regulations, taking a brief look at languishing craft, nodding unknowingly and leaving before a decision had to be made.

Passing through Germans, filming a 'Travelogue' of the Westcountry, wishing to see Clovelly from the sea but not understanding why the boat wouldn't lie still. Naughty Northerly billow!! Our gig racing stars return fresh faced from the Scilly Isles, proud to have stayed the course and having helped drink the islands dry.

Ready and waiting fishermen head off to the lobster grounds with more and more pots, filling their hopes if not their boats. Ice Cream tourists shiver along the shore to gape at a waterfall dribbling to the beach; while thanks to the general election, canvasing would-be, ballot box political types leave unread leaflets in locked doorways in a vain attempt to secure our allegiance, and our Lording land owner objects at the colour of some of his householders prefered candidate.

So the month of May continues and we are carried along with it, cruising towards our destination, that is a long, hot, glorious summer; let's hope that no mistakes are made this year in the natural navigation of our passage, and we enjoy the fruits of the long laboured hours of winter.