Wot with me being a rufty tufty sailor and all that, I had to take a couple of painkillers for the headache that charging around at stupid speeds on the RIB had evidently caused. I also think that tearing along for any longer than say, an hour, would require a swift trip to hospital for a kidney transplant, or two.
I'll be sticking to the white flappy things, definitely. I could be persuaded, I suppose, to go out again (under some duress of course) if it's thirty degrees, flat calm and the tide's wrong for getting to Cowes in less than two hours.
A hefty dose of ibuprofen and a mooch later, I am feeling back to my usual self. Apart from a rather sore left arm that I strained whilst initially scared half to death, but having to hold on with only one hand so as to take some photos. Ah, the sad paparazzo existence of blooging. I need to get a life.