New Year.
New Years Eve. Dartmouth.

Dartmouth on New Years is a fun place to be - everyone dresses up in fancy dress, and the streets are packed. It's lots of fun.

There is also the frission of knowing, if you live on the other side of the river, that the last ferry is at approximately 10minutes past 12. On the last bong, you either leg it down to the slip, or you think 'sod it' and head back into the pub. Or, you're completely crammed into the pub so tightly you ain't going anywhere anyway.

Few years ago me and a mate found ourselves stranded in Dartmouth after 12. No way home, nearest bridge is Totnes, 12 miles away, nowhere to stay, and it's starting to look like snow. Shit.

So we went up to the marina to see if we could 'borrow' a tender (little rowing boat) to get across the river. None about we could get to, but we did find one of those huge luxury yachts, ginormous 50foot thing, with an awning on over the cockpit. Ah cool, we'll kip under there.

We climb under the awning and realise the cabin isn't locked. Result. Clamber in and find a nice cabin with a double bed. Oh yeah.

First light, and we're woken by footsteps overhead. Shit, the owner is back. Oh shit.
Panicked, we hide under the bed.

'What the fuck are we going to do? He'll cast off and we'll be stuck here until he gets to bloody france?!'

Shit shit shit.

An hour later and the footsteps are still audible, but the guy still hasn't come below. We've been under this bed for ages, and he hasn't come in. In fact, why haven't we heard him pull back the awning?

We sneak out and have a peek through the plastic of the fore hatch.

To see half a dozen seagulls wandering about, there big webbed feet making loud thuds on the fibreglass. No crew anywhere.

Bloody seagulls.

We left a tenner to apologise for borrowing the boat, and legged it.
(inflateable, Tue 2 Jan 2007, 18:13, Reply)