I’m cocooned in my bunk being lulled to sleep
Hypnotised by big waves and gassed by mature feet.
Someone new is on the helm as Missi heels more
Bellowing cries of ‘bear away!’ or ‘turn to port!’
Life on the high seas is a bit of a spoiler
Pumping the heads and servicing the boiler.
Of course there isn’t one of those aboard,
Climate control a luxury we can’t afford
‘doughnuts’ used to be delicious, for some, ‘whipping’ kinky
No going down below to get into something slinky
Revealing baggy, woolen pants is not the same!
Rule 4 unnecessary as no one can feel game.
We are eating like queens, pear crumble a winner,
Most of the crew are significantly thinner?
The other gem is porridge and spooned nutella
Just lacking a bottle of red from the bilge cellar
Morale is high, we’re at the sharp end of the fleet
Grappling for third and trying to be hard to beat
At times it’s not been particularly easy
Some minor injuries and a dose of queasy
sails taking on the elements and losing the fight
Sadly Cynthia, our sewing machine can’t fix one kite
We are halfway there (nearly) and are in good shape
Looking forward to a warm jet wash at the Cape!
The wind is building and is pushing us along
Fingers crossed for the podium where we belong.
Before I go a few messages to relay
Grandad I hope to do you proud every day
Mike sends his congratulations for the baby news
Vin passes Darren several smackeroos
A big hello to Inna’s family and friends
So many more but this poem has to end
It just leaves me to say thanks for your support
We look forward to catching up with you all in port.
And that’s (another) wrap. Cynthia!