Book 2, Chapter 36

My life went on after the tears because being a minor media character with supposedly great things ahead was buttering no parsnips for me in the here and now so Ian decided I needed to gain some confidence throwing a dinghy around the harbour for a couple of hours straight after work on Tuesday before he would let me lose on Cyflym. Ian was right as sailing the Worth's large luxury cruising catamaran was as much like dinghy racing as driving a truck on the motorway was like riding a motorbike through a shopping centre. Sensibly I remembered it was April in Cardiff so thinking myself clever I wore a wetsuit. Foolishly I had not recognised that wearing that particular wetsuit would ensure that after the race most of the men in the club would want to buy me a drink.

Finally back home I caught a glimpse of my wind, wave and possibly wine ravaged skin and made an emergency call to Jenny declaring that my inner Naomi Campbell needed rescuing from my outer Morgan Freeman skin. Jenny had no suggestions for an immediate cure so I took heavy teasing during Wednesday dance class for my wind-burned cheeks but Thursday evening was devoted to a heavy pampering session with Jenny and Serena which somehow Beth invited herself to. Have you any idea of the music that 16 year olds listen to on a night in? Not long ago, that morning in Jenny's case, we had been paid to strut our stuff on the catwalk and yet here we were with face-packs and curlers, hairbrushes held like microphones harmonising with Atomic Kitten singing Ladies Night. The indignity of it - but it was fun!

After a long discussion on where our lives were heading a pattern became apparent. Over time the hours devoted to work and duties grew while those spent on fun shrank. There didn’t seem to be any way around it. Human beings become dull and isolated with age and friendships whither from neglect.

"No, it doesn’t have to be like that," Beth butted in after a long period in the role of the frustrated young onlooker. "I’ve been enjoying my morning runs with Venus but even though I want to keep fit know I won’t keep it up when we're not together so I’m going to join some sort of exercise group."

"Don't even think about joining a gym Beth," Serena told her. "My parents and their friends pay a fortune in subs and rarely go, let alone take any exercise."

"If it were me I’d go for dance exercise," was my two-penn’orth worth.

"But it could be you." explained Beth, as though to children. "It could be all of you. Exercise is a duty but by making it dance it would also be fun and if you all agreed to do the same class it would keep you meeting in a way you could only avoid with a good excuse!"

I grabbed Beth and kissed her on the nose uttering "You're brilliant! I'll call John and Judy Hart as I bet they either know a class or can organise one."

By the end of the evening after a lot of phone calls the seed of ‘Dancing Fit’ was sown, watered and fed and Beth was it's first member.

Behind my back the world was still surviving with Aunt Sophie coming home and Jack looking a little less like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders - there was as yet no indication though of when Beth would move back in. Dad and I fitted the new track that allowed Dumblebit’s electric inboard/outboard to be lowered down or lifted up the vertical cylinder in the stern and took Dumblebit out for a spin. It seems obvious now but even with both generators running Dumblebit only had 20hp of continuous power available so I wasn't expecting startling performance from her but I had forgotten that she had a huge battery bank and two 30hp electric motors fitted which could draw directly from those batteries should Dad decide to throw both engines to full power simultaneously…

The siren on the Harbourmaster's launch eventually caught Dad's attention reminding him that there was a 4 knot/no wake speed limit in the harbour and that he had started out with a daughter who was no longer aboard but calling him very unladylike names from the water 200 yards astern where she had been deposited when Dumblebit’s acceleration threw her off the back of the boat!

It was Saturday morning before Ian let me join him aboard Cyflym with warnings that I was on no account to jump ship the way I'd done from Dumblebit with Dad aboard. Sailing with Ian was a revelation. This rough rigger with a dirty mind sailed with the grace of a ballet dancer a boat as delicate in appearance as a ballerina. he had hand-built her from mahogany veneer, making her lighter and stronger than fibreglass and she was immaculate.

I'd thought of wooden boats as something from the past knowing only plank on frame vessels like Bill's Molly but as Ian described Cyflym’s construction I realised she had most in common with Bill's high-tech carbonfibre dreams. She was indeed an example of natures carbon fibre. We pirouetted, we glided and sometimes even seemed to leap into flight as Ian instead of steering Cyflym from A to B introduced me to the art of sailing. The plan was for me to take Cyflyn around the harbour myself next day but I persuaded Ian to give me instead another lesson taking her out into the Bristol Channel where I could learn to dance the waves.

What with sailing Cyflyn and reprising in dance class during the afternoon the most romantic of waltzes it is no surprise that choosing my clothes for the evening, even though it was only a pub meeting with the gang, I went OTT with a floaty boho chic feel.

That my sister Litara and Simon were there was a surprise but why with them was there Jean Luc?