Kiloran of Edinburgh - Bloggin Catch Up

In an effort to do some mid Atlantic cost-cutting these three are coming
in tandem... or else we will lose our ability to download weather files.
Not that those have been of much use lately.


Day 6

The Weakest Link

While the rest of the fleet pray for wind, we are fruitfully using the
calm to get one up on each other in the Boating Bake Off. In the latest
competition, I baked a granery bread and ginger cake, Erica produced a
decidedly flat but decent semolina loaf and banana bread while David
rather curiously conjured up a 'home-made, oven cooled, quick-matured'
christmas pudding. Not quite the labour of love we expected, weak from
you David.

Speaking of love, HyperDino was literally the best thing and never again
will we refer to any of their products as 'Dino shite' following last
night's hit and miss baked sweet potato meddley and the following Cape
Verden products: orange lemons, yellow organes, green ripened (?)
bananas ('the conifers of the banana kingdom' (-David)) and non-ripening
giant avocados; oh and the dire lack of syrup. What on sea will we put
on our pancakes tomorrow morning, maybe we will have to stick to full
English?! Can you tell how my life is now revolving around edibles? My
tummy tells a similar story, as does Erica's bottom. John, on the other
hand, has successful passed the two-abreast galley backside test, so he
can stay on board for now, though probably not for long if his ginger
bread consumptive trajectory is maintained.

In other news, our much fabled tea party with Calla, who has closely
'tailed' us much of the way, is yet to occur. This is unfortunate for
both of us as I would certainly give a ginger bread cake to speak to an
extra-curicular person. On top of that, our daily dip fell at the mercy
of Articulate, which has left the crew divided and proved Skipper
Haddock as the weakest link. Doesn't bode well does it?

Over and Out xoxo

P.S. Latest from the Skipper is that the sun and the moon are 'different
ball games'. Please help us settle this, what dictates where the moon
rises and falls?


Day 7

S-quid's In

In spite of our daily press-up challenges and ludicrous exercising of
diaphragm, thanks to David's various eccentric tendancies, our butts
have not ceased to grow and the boat is certainly shrinking. However,
since the water is LFG (like F***ing glass) we have taken to the
spacious habitat around us on wakeboard, with several minorly stressful
(for floating John) MOB moments - and with relative lack of success in
terms of air time.

In other news, we are two group lectures down (on the much inspired
topics of How to Throw a Good Party and The Battle of Trifalgar). Oh how
I can't wait for Erica's rendition of The Aquatic Ape. Mine will be on
sustainable fishing... possibly less relevant than expected as we are
currently having no trouble abiding by the rules of maximum take
relative to unit effort of catch. We're 'squid's in' but our looted seas
have produced niltch for dinner - to the frozen bolognaise it is then.

Over and Out xoxo

P.S. Can someone please research if it is advisable to swim with wild
dolphins?


Day 8

Stop the boat, I want to get off.

Upon leaving for this 'adventure', I worried I might miss Christmas 2017
due to death by stormy seas or, arguably worse, spend it in a liferaft
doing number two's infront of eldery men as they develop kidney stones
and backache. Alas, it may be that I miss Christmas 2017 because Kiloran
is loitering somewhere mid Atlantic, perfectly whole and content but
going abosultely nowhere. Where are the tsunami rollers and rajing
storms I was promised by a combination of blanantly exaggerated
anecdotes and Google searches.

In other news, John has blocked the aft head with 'tissue paper' (?) but
on the other hand, has finally earned his spinnaker 1 badge. Spinnaker 2
requires night time specialisation apparnetly... so for some wind, any
wind, we shall await. In addition, the flies who thought there were
getting a free ride to St Lucia have died as en route, they will always
be remembered as the pioneers of their species. On the other hand, some
white 'egrets' (?) have more successfully hitched a ride for 24 hours.
Skipper tried to kill them with a spear gun at risk of bursting the rib,
Erica named them Bill and Bob, John has spent all night perfecting his
dove calls. In abusing David's gentle affection during his David
Attenborough moments this morning, they have pooped everywhere. Finally,
and as per usual, David is asleep, again.

"Here's to a nice motor." Over and Out xoxo

P.S. Could someone please find and send an accurate figure for the
number of sharks per kilometer area of mid Atlantic ocean? And also some
data on how hungry they are (on average)? We are conducting our on
experiments but could do with some assistance please (seriously you
input could be life-saving), thanks.