The Depths of Winter report

For those of you who only read this column because it’s better than the mundane dross that your boss has got you working on at the moment then be prepared to start work again about now. For the insane bunch who finds this article generally amusing then keep taking the pills but I warn you now, I haven’t actually done a great deal of windsurfing this month because my dog ate my sails and oh yeah, it’s fricken snowing.

1-8 Jan: Skiing

Number of broken body parts: Surprisingly few
Financial devastation: Not dissimilar to US debt
Overall fun rating: Like a teenager with a copy of Razzle

Tignes, via the ski train, was pretty adventurous for a mummy’s boy like me, something obviously not lost on the scamming snail eating Parisian who ‘helped’ me get a metro ticket. A note to the unsuspecting; metro tickets are cheap and if some tattooed, baldy Frenchman says otherwise he’s a lying swine. Otherwise the skiing was ace, the Killy espace resort encompasses a huge area including Val d’Isere, (for the more la de da amongst you) and the more humble but excellent Tignes area.

"My windsurfing highlight of February was cryogenically freezing my genitalia in Poole harbour in gale force winds."

18 Jan: James Joseph Carleton, age 1 nanosecond

Hey Fat Tony, yes I am a Godfather. Big up Liz for pushing out a whopper of a kiddy weighing in at 8lbs 10oz’s, no mean feet for a wee thing like her. I changed my first nappy which he promptly shat in 10 minutes later. It smelt really bad, must take after his dad.

21-23 Jan: Girl’s mmmmmmmm!

FEBRUARY 2005 (The dates have all got a bit hazy now)

Basically my editorial bosses have buggered off to South Africa windsurfing and it’s got a bit slack round here. But at some point over the last few weeks I’ve braved the freezing temperatures and snow for your reading pleasure. The highlights have been few but worthwhile, I think.

Highlight ONE: Bumping into Lenny Kravitz who apparently windsurfs for Southampton Uni.

Highlight TWO: Cryogenically freezing my genitalia in Poole harbour in gale force winds.

Highlight THREE: Making a complete tool out of myself.
I was happily pootling around on Sandbanks beach with a mighty 7.5m T’bird. Having just gybed I suddenly felt the odd sensation of ‘where the f*$ks my board’. Apparently my UJ had snapped leaving me holding my rig whilst my beloved, but jinxed, Tabou 3 Style buggered off into the distance. I pondered for a moment thinking about the situation and suddenly realised that it was getting dark and that my board was the only thing that floated. So I hastily, and without panic (I might be lying), thrashed after my board only to discover that once I’d caught it up I couldn’t see my rig anymore. I chose to swim the few hundred metres back to shore and leave the rig; after all it’s only a Tushingham and not one of my shiny Naish Boxers.
I was moodily considering my loss only to find that a rather skilled kite surfer was merrily zooming into the beach with kite in one hand and 7.5m fully rigged T’bird in the other. There was a lot of unnecessary foot kissing and hugging on my part and some serious scowls from the kite surfer who considered my rescue skills somewhere near the level of a beached whale, but not to worry I told him my name was Robby Swift and left it at that.

The 1st of MARCH 2005: Oh yes, its Competition time!

Crap, the boss is back from South Africa and is expecting me to be all fired up for some serious training for the start of competition. Apparently she’s expecting me to enter my first event sometime soon; obviously she’s not seen me windsurf. I’m not quite sure when I’m supposed to fit all this training in what with work and studying for my finals but hey ‘live slow, die old’ as they say.

Lenny, my man

"There were some serious scowls from the kite surfer who considered my own rescue skills somewhere near the level of a beached whale. But not to worry, I told him my name was Robby Swift and left it at that."