I blame the Beatles for breaking up before I was old enough to appreciate them, for my formative years were the years of bands like The Police singing of Walking on the Moon.
One idea I had was triggered by scanning though a list of Beatles song titles, where my eye was caught by one - If I Fell.
It's not a song I know but it reminded me of a moment in time, the night of the midnight shredder. I've posted the story before, how on the ARC the spinnaker wrapped itself around the forestay so badly it looked liked someone would have to go up the mast to clear up the mess.
The previous post was about mistakes, and how I blamed myself for the wrap as I was at the wheel and trying to tell a joke at the time. In looking back it was one of those learning experiences, where I hopefully now will give that big sail the attention it deserves.
But increasingly there's another emotion, regret at not having to go up the mast, for Tristan managed to unwrap it in time. That's crazy I know, for masts are high things and we were mid-Atlantic where there was no chance of a helicopter transfer to A&E if I fell.
It might sound strange to want to have ascended a swaying mast and then make my way down the forestay hand over hand, unknotting the spinnaker as I went. But I have often wondered of the view, of the moon-light dancing on the wide wide sea, of getting a feel for the tiny size of our yacht compared to an ocean. For what is life but to gain experiences and memories, to take risks and the rewards that come with adventures?
And the music that's in my head of those days? There were but two good CDs on-board, and the one that matches that scene is Norah Jones's, Come away with me.
No, it wasn't The Beatles, but it takes me back to those days as music can, the sound of the sea.
