Lucy L Ford on some strenuous and sensuous on-board experiences
Before it is even possible to get the knickers off
one has to get rid of about four layers
of heavy weather sailing gear
Most people spend their holidays visiting castles, churches or other places of historic interest. We spend our holidays visiting the chandlers. Over the years this predictable tour must have taken us to every nautical establishment in the whole of Northern Brittany and the Channel Islands.
There has to be a limit to the interest value of rope, shackles and toilet brushes. Unless of course the Skipper is harbouring a latent interest in some form of nautical bondage that 25 years of marriage has yet to uncover.
On very rare occasions we might find somewhere to interest the crew, like an embroidery shop. Suddenly the Skipper can’t stand “being inside” and will “see you back on the boat”.
Showering on board is a very sensuous experience. Because of the necessity to keep the ‘heads’ hatch closed while at sea, the nylon shower curtain never dries out and for the entire trip takes on a permanent odour of ‘gone-off school swimming kit’. This lovely piece of damp nylon, which “you-must-use-otherwise-the-door-will-delaminate” takes on serpent-like characteristics, entwining itself amorously around your naked body as you attempt to squirt yourself with either too hot or too cold water and shower gel.
Because of the permanently damp, swamp-like environment of the compartment, mosquitoes abound. These nasty little creatures take great delight in sampling the ample juiciness of your most inappropriate regions. Thus you come out of the shower with more bumps than when you went in.
But the most erotic experience of all is ‘pole dancing’ while visiting the heads in a heavy sea. Before it is even possible to get the knickers down, one has to get rid of about four layers of heavy weather sailing gear. The heads compartment, with all the aromatic qualities of a mediaeval midden, is the last place that you will want to rid yourself of your sailing clobber, and then wear it again. Why? For the very same reason that you replaced the bathroom carpet at home, with tiles. ‘He’ can’t aim straight! Now if he can’t aim straight on terra-firma, he certainly won’t have ‘aimed straight’ on a rolling sea!
Outside the heads is a pole, I think it holds the mast up. In a heavy sea, it holds me up and I have had to perfect the art of a one-handed, one garment at a time, striptease.
Finally you have rid yourself of enough clobber to jam yourself into the stinking broom cupboard. The boat is slamming around so much that the only way to get your knickers off is to brace your feet against one bulkhead and your back against the other. With one hand on the ceiling to stop, you from being thrown sideways, all there is left to do is … wriggle. The smell by now is so nauseating and the motion of the sea so bad that you want to throw up. But before you can sit on the throne and relieve the agonising pain in your bladder you have to get the toilet lid off without the contents jumping out. At this point the boat usually falls off a wave. You are thrown forward and bang your head on the door.
But what’s worse is trying to get the knickers back on.
Perhaps this is the real reason that most women do not like sailing?