I have often thought that my poor boat Dileas was a lot like Marilyn Monroe. She lived a short, dazzling life, much admired by all. She was famous around the world. Even now millions of people are reading of her grace and her allure to men in the Spring issue of ‘The Marine Quarterly’, to which you should all subscribe.
Ultimately she died a sordid and lonely death, abandoned by all her friends and lovers.
‘And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind
Never knowing who to cling to
When the typhoon set in.’
Today we finally hauled the shattered remains of the once universally desired Dileas away from her beach of shame back to a place of dignity before her eventual burial, which will be preceded by many drooling panegyrics.
This has been a long and emotionally charged drama into which many players have made their entries and exits. I thank them all. Here is some history:
So this morning she sits on the lonesome shore but I am determined that she will no longer be forced to display her disgrace. I have a dream. As Martin Luther King said,
“You gotta have a dream, if you don’t have a dream,
How you gonna have a dream come true?”
With kind friends and companions, we will fill shattered Dileas with bouyancy material, such as the plastic bottles and styrofoam chunks that are washed up on the beach in such abundance. Then we skin her with plastic sheeting and nuclear powered tape, so she is watertight.
We then bear her gently down to the sea and pull her back to the house; a distance of some 300 metres. Will she fill up with water and sink? Not so, she has been skillfully embalmed and enshrouded for her voyage.
Then we bullock her up the first few steps on the sea edge.
Next comes the stroke of genius. I run a rope from the hook of the mighty Hi Jet to the boat and use 600cc of raw power to haul her up the steps to the house.
So this was the best fun and, suprisingly, totally successful! Dileas is home.