The Birthday

This morning was a bit complicated - Adam and I had to get the birthday card we'd made last night (prepare picture (B&W), put on memory stick, take into reception, blag printing session from Hertz man, use frame of horrible painting on wood in room as straightedge to cut up hotel brochure for cardstock) signed by Beth, so some sleight of hand required at the breakfast table. Gen very touched :-)

It didn't seem that windy initially today, so we stopped off at the closer Mistral centre to check out their SUP rental etc. Incredibly skinny German girl attendant, no loos, lots of bigger boards. It's right beside the Atlantic resto where we ate last night - good grilled fish, and a very relaxing and not too cheesy "world music' band in the posh hotel across the road, at least for Adam and me. Anyway, ended up at the usual centre, rigged a 5.9 in the morning and a 6.4 in the afternoon, which turned out ok. Not as good as Gen's 6.8 and 145l monster though, but it is her birthday, so she's allowed to come screaming past throwing me off with her wake, literally.

Windsurfing is microcosmic, in the very real sense that it is a complete universe, self-contained, with all the features of real life. I'm tense because it's still offshore, and lighter, even with bigger sail and board. It takes work to get planing sometimes, that involves trading upwind position in the hope of increased speed and thus upwind capability - more tension! Then there are times when the wind is fairly constant, and I'm thinking about life, or sex, or how sunny it is and how barely describably pleasant it is to be gliding along, looking down at the cliched (if it did but know it, but fortunately it doesn't, it just is itself and answers to no man) turquoise water, and those are great. But then the gust passes, and it's time to concentrate, and work on planing again or heading upwind in a different stance. Are those times any less pleasant? On reflection, no, but the actual moments, which I guess I'm living pretty hard since there is no capacity left for introspection, only effort to work the situation, seem less so. The feeling when the board lets go, when the noise and feel change from one of struggling, pushing water out of the way, to one of effortless gliding with the rig balanced, is worth all that. Every time.

So what does that tell me? Only that the world is what you bring to it, and you either leave it behind, or deal with it on the terms you hadn't realised you'd chosen. Blimey, been watching too many Sex in the City episodes.

And I haven't even started on the "windsurfing in bare feet is right up there with the best sex you ever had" line yet...