So lonely at the top

What a metaphor

What a metaphor

Rosie’s seaboots









With the return to Tainui of Rosie and the arrival of lovely Beth, as a male I find myself seriously outnumbered. I am unable to win arguments and am continuously, unjustly put down.

“Just be quiet, John, we’re talking” is the oft-repeated mantra (Dirk, is that a tautology?). Once again I have to re-sync my hormonal cycle, to talk about how I am feeling, and and to sit through endless discussions about hair, makeup and dish washing procedures.


Such are the trials of a male skipper in Tainui. As I have said, it is very lonely here at the top (the bottom?). The boat is in a serious mess. My “cabin” is a plastic dish on the saloon seat, containing all my personal possessions. Mind you, there are consolations. The effervescent laughter of the girls swimming and the superb meals are two examples which spring immediately to mind.

My "cabin"

My “cabin”

…but there are consolations 











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