Rhumb - Day 13 - Tweetiepie learns the true meaning of pecking order

Picture the scene - a wonderful afternoon, blue ocean and skies. Rhumb trundling along nicely at 7+ kn, with crew pleasantly relaxed chatting in the cockpit, and George kindly looking after the helm.

Spotted in the distance, we see Solly the Sheerwater, diving, swooping, wing tips clipping the wave tops, soaring and swooping once again. But then, out of the corner of his eye he spots him on the boat - Tweetiepie (aka Tim), and thinks 'who's that new face on my turf'. Time to take action - so, another soar and swoop out of the sun, take aim and fire and then a resounding splat as he registers a direct hit on Tweetie.

In all the world out in this big ocean, in so many thousands of square miles did that happen, but didn't we laugh all the same.

On to the next classic. Brian thought it time to go fishing once again, so out with the rod (fishing) for a late afternoon's angling. Clearly, he was confident with his new lure as he predicted a bite at 6pm. Sure enough as he went down below to complete the 6pm boat log, the reel started screaming as metres of line sped from the reel. Up from down below he scrambles to begin the reel in, only to find he didn't know how to work the reel. After much level pulling and button pressing releasing more line, with the help of John, he began to reel in something pretty big. Tim and Ian were on camera duty and with the hotline to the editorial desk of the Angling Times already connected, the reel-in continued. It must have taken a good 20 minutes to get the end of the line close enough to see the catch of the day. We promise you it was there, but as the sinking weight and lure came closer it was clear that what ever was there, wasn't anymore. What a disappointment, especially for Brain, but he did look on the bright side once again, as it took his mind off his hurty toe, which took his mind off his hurty knee - I think you know how it goes now folks!!

Roger (aka Ian) has now been renamed Crusher Whitelock, as apart from his other duties of sleeping for the rest of us, he is now in charge of the can crusher and squashing the plastic water bottles to oblivion.

Conversation over the day ranged from politics, music and food through to 'why do boats have feminine names'? Couldn't work out why, so we thought we would just try changing the gender anyway. So, instead of Saucy Sue, we had Naughty Norman. For Mystic Rose we had Magic Malcolm, and so the sillyness went on until Roger, I meant Crusher, went off for another kip.

All good here as we are now in the 800's of miles to go - yippee.

Rhumb over - N17.07 W46.03