Dear Worzel; Hello here I sit writing to you, hello from Godfrey…Something odd happened here today, IT DID NOT RAIN!! All week it has poured down, it has teemed, it has flowed. Today it stopped raining, so out on the sheltered harbor we rowed.

I still work at the Old School House Hostel in Rai, the friend I wrote you of, Sarah and I , scrounged an old row boat from Drunk Bugger Joe. We dragged it home via the mud-flats, where it smells rather nasty and only the foolhardy go.

So we purloined a shopping trolley, with the rope from my kilt we tied the boat down, the hill being steep, up main street from mud-flats through town.

She pulled it, I pushed, us both covered in mud, smiling and waving to each passing car. We stopped only for ice-cream , then a chat and a jar, with some nice young ladies heading out to the bar.

We then patched the boat’s holes  up with gaffer tape and tar. We painted it  red, with a trim of Horse Slobber Green. We left the oars plain, and tried to agree on a name.

Walter she suggested, after her brother. Maundering Nettercap, I put in for my dear Mother. How about Paddy- Oer’ The Bog, or Boozer, for the Publicans Guide Dog.

Laughing we drew straws and chose the name” Whelk”, it did not rhyme but we two did not care, we caught enough good fish the whole Hostel could share. And now as I write you, I’m looking out at the wet, sideways rain. Tomorrow, undaunted we will set out again , in the good rowboat Whelk, on the  calm Golden Bay, we will set out again…Goodbye, Goodbye from Godfrey.

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