I was out at Dendy St Brighton last night - a place i hadnt sailed for probably 2 years - and i was quickly reminded of what a damn good sport this windsurfing caper is when it comes to good sorts. No, not Cameron Diaz good sorts (mores the pity) but people who say g'day for no other reason than you're wearing a harness.
First it was Paul. Now even though he's a bloke who works in a windsurf shop and hence may have a vested interest in being your mate, he never gives that impression. In fact, given the amount of his time i have seriously wasted asking for hints and tips on gear (after all, windsurfing is a gear freaks paradise), you'd think he'd run a mile from talking such stuff on his time off. No...
Then onto the water. Wind was dying, as was my duck gybe attempts (ARGGH... but thats another story...) and past shoots Hamish. Hamish i wouldnt have known from a house brick till a month or two ago when he wandered up and asked about some gear he saw in the trailer and we got chatting. Seems he knew the Mistress P in a previous life (yet again: small world, but i wouldnt wanna paint it). I tried some heli tacks (shocking.. but thats another story) and Hamish and i swapped smirks and later a chat on the beach.
Back on terra firma Evan also introduces himself. Evan is the master of the forward loop, as I have witnessed on several occasions from close range as a blue helmet went whizzing through the air. His freestyle tricks arent bad either. Had a chat about life the universe and everything, (but mostly windsurfing).
So for a night when i imagined i'd be out somewhere alone I was anything but. Maybe i should start wearing a harness down the shops (a step up, i must say, from the Hampton East regulation pair of moccas)...
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