During the week of the Commonwealth Regatta, August 2nd-8th 1999, the English women's lightweight quad crew sent back reports to the Rowing Service. We thought you might like to read them...
Index of stories
Thanks to Victoria(the main typist), Becky, Naomi and Helen.
Sadly, no major events to report today. The day started with thestandard breakfast scrummage (tremendous bagels today) and charge to thecourse for launches. Even the slow learning Welsh have cracked onto theneed to be swift in the mornings, so there is a renewed urgency to Dad'sdriving.
Despite the bulk of the nations being banned from using launches (quiteright, too) due to some appalling driving, Mum and Dad managed to wangle oneout, and we proudly set off to be videoed and shouted at. We have allmastered the art of using our own water, and collisions were non-existanttoday.
Despite some significant crushes on a number of scullers, Naomi steeredus clear of them all, and we kept a clear focus on what every other crew waswearing. The outing was dandy - things are beginning to look up and up -and we got off the water feeling fine about our sport. Unfortunately, theLittle Thing has a snuffle, and so we were given the afternoon off and Mumbanned us from shopping. V bad. But - and here's a sign of teamwork foryou - Mum stepped bravely into the breach and bought 3 pairs of trainers anddid her bit for the national debt. We admire that in a coach.
After the outing, we went for our standard visit to the Donut emporium,to drink liquids and ogle the buns. The non-lightweights indulged in somenaughty treats, we all talked bollocks and Richard Briscoe managed to launchanother drink over himself and his fanny pack. He received much supportfrom us all, as you can imagine.
And so back to the University for some washing and lunch. It's a dog eatbitch world out here - Naomi found her place on the washing machines, andmade damn sure she used it, by putting her washing in on top of someoneelse's, while Mum valiantly held some New Zealanders off. I am delighted tosee how these foreign sorts have come to adopt our sanitary ways - it's whywe have a Commonwealth, I like to think. We have fared better than ourchicks' 8+, however, who managed to shrink all their kit in anoverenthusiastic drying session. As teeny things, we have offered to giveit all a home, but they prefer to cram their ample bosoms in and row withcrushed spines. They have Ian Roots subbing in at present, and I am sure heis curious to know why they have all taken to hanging around him in comelycorset-like kit.
Have I told you how hot it is? Well, it is.
And so this afternoon was spent largely unconscious, or reading the Enquirerstories on a 40 stone child and other classic literature. We have sent somepostcards and generally got a bit bored. Methinks we may be peaking.
Update on the Portaloos: the flying tardis remains in place, surrounded bydry bog roll and a miasma of gas. It is the emergency "just before I boat"bog, and so people are valiantly continuing to use it. I was caught a bitshort myself today, and can report that this Portaloo deserves some kindof mention in despatches - for inside, it even has shit on the ceiling. Godknow what it went through - nor who the brave individuals were who returnedit to its rightful standing - but it is a special receptacle.
We are enjoying the Aussies and the Kiwis, and the Poles are still being miserable. Northern Ireland have arrived - we will destroy them. Hope that tomorrow will be more of a thriller for you - we are enjoyingourselves and looking forward more and more to the race. Which I understandis why we are here....