We cast off from the tiny beach

On a sea so blue, serene,

Any nautical skills i may have had

From memory I tried to glean.

Nervously I steered a course

To a marker buoy ahead,

My crew mate was a young lad,

Whose face seemed filled with dread.

Alarmingly he stared and yelled

(Are you really in control)

As into deeper water we went

The boat began to roll.

I knew that Imust turn about

And get us back to shore,

An able seaman, no I am not,

And must brave the seas no more.

The boat was spinning wildly

The lad despairingly cried,

(Another right mess grand dad)

And swiftly leapt over the side.

After ages it seemed i eventually

Managed to get back to land,

Hobble a few steps on aching legs

Then collapsed in a heap on the sand.

My grandson walked towards me,

Then completely lacking in tact,

Said, (that man over there says)

You're well over due and wants his pedalo back. By M McHugh

Church Street, Ainsworth?

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.