Rampant

The great day dawns. Outwardly relaxed with my Sunday papers, it was soon time to head up to the Trinity Bowling and Tennis Club for our AGM. The RFYC would be the obvious venue but we’re not going to give them that satisfaction, are we, people? We are not. So, the end of GB’s four year tenure at the helm. We shall no longer quake at the sound of his approaching tread in the yard. Mild mannered PD, something of a quiet cove, has taken over the baton, or mantle. Of course, he’ll need an enforcer as his number two. Step forward MrP! And look, I got presented with a special burgee. PS congratulated me straight away, in his usual round-about way: I was Vice-Commodore for years he declared, and I never got a burgee. Shucks. I must admit I’d never seen that either in my dozen years attending AGMs. A couple of swift pints followed, and then a walk home with TL, the SK already having legged it to allow me to socialise and get button-holed.
When I got home there was a lovely card and parcel for me. There’s no good way to do this she said. I greedily ripped it open. A Vice-Commodore’s burgee. I could sense her sadness, but I could see the positive straight away. One for my east coast boat…. and …..