Look, it's summer!

It's 23 degrees here and the Newfies are melting.  The men are walking around with no shirts on, their white chests reflecting the sun.  It's blinding and hilarious.

I love it here so much.  I never want to leave.

Ship of Fools

“Remember the time the boat broke down?”

“Which time?” is the simultaneous response.

My eight year old cousin Alexander runs downstairs to write out the family's nautical exploits. We hear him clatter away noisily at the computer.  After a brief silence he calls out

“How do you spell fools?”  Laughter from the dinner table.

“How do you spell adventure?”  This is promising.

“How do you spell accident?”  Oh my. 

There was the time that Uncle How got dragged along the side of the boat, half submerged, shouting expletives and clutching his eyeglasses. 

Or the time that Rob tried to launch a boat, only to discover it wouldn’t float.  The unsuccessful launch ended with a wooden plank being driven through the engine of a neighbour’s truck.  Details were scanty.

Auntie once had to swim to shore, towing the little sailboat behind her.  The mast had broken and she was being pulled by a strong current towards the ocean.  This swim involved going upstream past a fish plant, which spewed waste and guts and god knows what else into the water and, by her account, directly into her hair.

Or the time the cops got involved.  Sorry, the two times the cops got involved.  One time centered on a suspicious abandoned dory seen floating off shore.  The next- a potential disembodied hand in Murray Harbour.  After a brief period of intrigue, it turned out to be a rubber glove.  “Every damn time” Sue shouts, pounding her fist on the table for emphasis.

Sue and I share a secret laugh at the idea of joining the support group for children scarred by the memory of Seagoing Santa.   Captain Lloyd Duncan’s portrayal of a Santa gone mad was a powerful piece of work, no doubt.

And yet, we are all still eagerly anticipating the next boat outing.  Salt water runs in my newly discovered family’s veins, apparently.  Either that or a very strong rum.