Logs and Shanties

The sun peaked dandily over the horizon. The night crew of Vagabond stirred in their sleep. The night had been warm, partially negating the use of Brian's Four Season sleeping bag which, I was politely informed, was not so named because it commenced the playing of Vivaldi's masterpiece until you drop off, but in actual fact was designed to cope with all four seasons.

In vain, we had encouraged Brian to open the forehatch in order to ventilate the cabin, but he selfishly refused, on the grounds that if it rained, his sleeping bag would be soaked. Alan did his best to convince Brian of the meteorological unlikeliness of this happening, but this did little good, so we perspired gently.

Much later, Alan was awakened by the gentle patter of rain falling on his forehead. Apparently this is an ancient form of Chinese torture and Alan leapt to his feet.

"Cor Crew!" he cried, "a storm!". The crew rose from their slumber and assisted Alan in the removal of various articles of clothing from the cockpit. That done, Alan looked up.

"I know, let's have a look out", he suggested wisely as another thunder crash rocked the mooring.

"Right-oh, once you're up you're up", the rest agreed. Two minutes later, they returned. Alan dripped on the floor.

"Praps that wasn't the best idea", he pronounced sagely...

Well, anyway, as I was saying, the sun peaked dandily over the horizon, and shortly after that, as it seemed, we left Martham, after waving goodbye to Spindrift, as they motored off in the direction of Somerton.

"Oh!" said Jon suddenly, "where are we meeting for lunch Commie?" Commie already far beyond the ferry, looked back.
"Wishnewhatnearggnewatsit... ling"
"Right-oh!" said Jon. "Erm, crew... yes, erm... what did he say?"
"Dunno skipper", we smiled back, "never mind."

Shortly after, we were sailing up the Thurne. We were rounding a bend when Jon spotted a couple of bathers. We watched, horror struck, as they proceeded to wash their hair. We would have remarked on the general state of Norfolk Broads water, something like "You know those chemical sewer tanks? Well, erm... we don't" or "Take one tank into the sewer? Not me, I just Flush and Go!", but at that point, we heard one say, "It's lovely and warm!" "Well madam", we thought, "we can explain that..."

by John Boughton - Poet, Philosopher, Artist, Genius. A Man of his Time.

In a small dark pub where the lights are low,
Sat some Commodores, talking of long ago,
They weren't very big and they weren't very bright,
But believe you me, they were good in a fight.

Their faces were long and their eyes were sad,
because listen friend, the times were bad.
No crew, no mate, no dinghy for them,
just a cute cook, to fuss like a hen.

Those were the days, they sighed,
We're all yachtsmen all and sailors none, they lied,
How can we change what's happening to us,
What rhymes with that apart from a bus?

Then a tall figure rose, as strong as a bear,
He just stood there, patting his thinning cardigan,
"Come sailing with me on Harriers C"
"Yes", they said after one quick pint.

The morning proceeded in its usual orderly fashion (what else would you expect from Commie's boat) - we had custard on the Cornflakes, and a stunning new invention - Eggy Bread. However, we were then despatched to the half decker - a different kind of organisation - "Oh you two girls grab an oar each". Jon insisted that this was a display of equal opportunities, but we had other ideas.

The lack of the boy's enthusiasm to row led us to believe that we could do it better than they, and this was why we were still rowing when we reached Potter bridge. While we were storming past the other boats, Lee decided to learn who people were; "He's the non-compassionate one with a brother" she pointed out. We'll leave you to work out who this was a reference to.

Lee made Jon a peace offering after she'd declared that she didn't like the half decker - nothing personal or anything. She really went to a lot of trouble tooblain (? Hebrew unclear. - Ed) the gift. Jon then discretely disposed of it over the side. When he realised his terrible mistake we had to do a 360 degree turn to rescue the gift before Lee burst into tears.

Mooring at Thurne Dyke was uneventful and a huge group made their way to the temporary hut that serves as a shop. Many phone calls were made. (Iain said "Hi"). The girls wanted to know where the male operative for the loos was! Setting off was also uneventful - the fact that there was no wind might have had something to do with it. The lack of wind continued for the rest of the day and Lee and Katherine did the rowing again.

Having been told to let the crew get on with it today, I thought, "well if I'm not going to be a help then... I'd best be a hindrance". Enlisting the help of my friendly crutches, I proceeded to look out for opportunities to be so.

First oppo came whilst turning the boat round and setting off. Under quant seemed all too easy and straightforward - how could I make it more interesting? I know - knock the crutches overboard when the boat is lying sideways across the dyke.

We creamed across the Broad - well, Brian quanted. Then taking in turns, we quanted down Meadow Dyke (a passing cruiser asked us if we were part of an expedition) where Vagabond challenged us to a race. They immediately switched on their turbo booster - Natalie took the quant. However, Sonia and Brian soon powered us past to victory. Heigham Sound seemed a good place for knots, and Brian soon mastered the art of mooring the boat with the jib sheet to a squash bottle.

For our next bit of excitement, we put Anna on the helm. Soon we found ourselves embedded in the reeds on a lee bank. Well I did say my special teaching point was setting off from difficult situations. So I sat on the roof and took notes as the three intrepid would-be skippers discussed different techniques for getting off, ranging from throwing the skipper overboard and asking her to push (a situation I vetoed), to pushing on the quant from various ends of the boat.

Well, they tried a couple of techniques, but only succeeded in moving the boat a few feet further into the reeds. Their final burst of inspiration involved all three heaving on the quant from different directions and a lot of shouts and squeals. Amazingly, this did the trick and we were out in the main river. It was only a matter of minutes before they realised that one of them really should take the helm before we arrived at the reeds on the other side.

And so to Potter - it was all going too smoothly - time for skipper to hassle the crew. Now, last time the crutches leapt overboard at my command, they were retrieved too easily, so this time I ensured that they went away with sufficient force to take them well out into the main river.

"Oh dear" I remarked helpfully. Brian leapt for the quant, and having hit the crutches a few times, as a warning of what might happen if I should try such a thing again, he dragged them towards the boat.

Having lowered the mast, I noticed that the crutches had sought revenge. Unfortunately, I laughed too loud and drew attention to the fact that something might not be quite right. After several minutes of anxious searching, Sonia spotted the tiller caught between the crutches.

This is the way Harriers was supposed to be. The sun was getting a little lower by the time we set sail at the end of Upton Dyke, and the intensity of the blue sky and green of the reeds matched the intensity of the feeling of sailing again in warm sun and a good breeze. That was Saturday afternoon. Sun and wind... Sunday and Monday seemed to lack both. There's nothing quite as pointless as quanting a boat in the pouring rain with not even a breath of wind to relieve the frustration. On Monday, Andrew had quanted out of Horsey Dyke, stopped and looked up expectantly for some instruction like "hoist sail". We looked out across the Mere. We looked at the reflection of the cottage on the other side, perfectly formed on the water. Marie Bootlegger Celeste was in the middle of perfect quiet and stillness. Andrew continued quanting across the Mere. It should be pointed out at this stage, that Clare muttered something about a sore neck and that she had doctor's orders not to quant. A day with no wind, and Clare can't quant. Doctors must accept very cheap bribery these days. Andrew got to the entrance to Meadow Dyke and I took over. At one point, a cruiser passed.

"That looks like hard work - haven't you got an engine?"
"Yes" ... the driver looked quizzical as he edged past.
"Would you like a tow?" he asked eventually.
"Oh no, the engine works!". He drove by utterly defeated.

After quanting through Potter bridges, we drifted on down towards Thurne mouth. Going through the bungalows, the wind rose to a whisper - but dead ahead. So we started tacking. We all started playing the PC Plod and directing the cruisers - they are very dumb and started scattering like a group of girls when a Boughton walks in the room. As well as the cruisers and bungalows, there was also a fisherman - and are they obstinate. We were coming up to tack and thought we'd better keep a discrete distance from the fisherman, who reeled in his line, but wouldn't move the rod from its holder. I looked at him, he looked at me, we went about, his rod pulled as the line caught on the rudder. I looked at him - and shrugged my shoulders, he looked at me and glared.

Day started with worry - they off loaded me with Alan. I heard someone say he was the uncompassionate on with the brother. But to my surprise I was on Morgan's boat, but I soon got rid of him. I was impressed with how Katie got the yacht out of the moorings. My main concerns are that the skipper Alan does follow timings on his ship's papers far too regimentally; everything is done according to the book and there is little room for free thinking and spontenaity. (Spellchecker everyone. Hieroglyphics just legible. - Ed). He really must learn to think for himself and not hang on to every word of his commodore. Also, he's far too kind and gentel (!) on his crew. He runs arround (!) dooing (!) every little thing for them and when he tells them to do anything it's always a "would you please" or "I hope you don't mind" in a meek and mild voice. He really should be more assertive and increase the volume to make sure everyone can hear his voice. But his sailing skills are very impressive. I learnt so much but there's more to investigate and that is why he's invited to dinner next Friday.

(Alan will be running Lexicography and Calligraphy courses in the near future. All those interested should get in touch. First come first serve - Ed).

A rather apprehensive crew crept aboard Wood Avens this morning.

"Do you really get us in difficult situations?" one asked tentatively. I smiled. However, things weren't going to be so easy today. A close watch, not to mention hand, was kept on the crutches and yours truly was not allowed near the helm. It seemed the crew were going all out to show me how efficient they were. For instance, Andrew expertly demonstrated the hove-to position in mid river. "Well you never know when you might need it" he explained.

Well, 11 o'clock came and still I had no opportunity of testing their ingenuity. Time to stop for tea, I thought.

"Let's moor on that bank over there" I said, pointing to a very definite lee bank.

But the intrepid crew, after swift consultation, took the boat into the windward bank to down sails, and then made me quant across. However, it was a good cup of tea. Tacking down Fleet dyke, Andrew decided that blackberry crumble would be nice for tea, and instructed Natalie to tack near the banks so that he could pick some. Five pretty leaves were all David managed to pick and these he displayed proudly on the roof. He then entered into the spirit of the thing and devised various devices for collecting the blackberries. Needless to say we're having pear crumble tonight.

After this episode, Andrew announced that he'd like to be a duck (It's not all it's quacked up to be Ha, ha h-sorry... - Ed). I helpfully suggested that if he jumped overboard, I would throw him bits of bread. He changed his mind.

So to South Walsham and the mudweighting procedure. Now's my chance, I thought.

"What shall we mudweight to?" asked David.
"ANDREW" came my swift reply.

Running back down Fleet dyke, Natalie explained how we might gybe, so to watch out for the boom coming over. "What boom?" said Andrew, followed by "Ow!".

We caught up with Vagabond at Ludham bridge. Alan said: "See that wherry round there? We'll catch it up in about five minutes. Think it's possible to pass it on this river? WELL, we're going to, so you can pick up the bits of wood that we leave in our slipstream..."

So, Alan [hence followed by a moving presentation of a piece of wood to Alan]. I finally got my hand on the helm for ten minutes before mooring up, and caused as much cruiser chaos as I possibly could in such a short space of time and visited the lee bank. Twice. Anemone's crew took it well in their stride.

On leaving the boat, Natalie said thank-you for a nice day. "I don't know what we were worried about." Ah well, I'll have to try again tomorrow.

G'day. Our day started as the sun inched gently over the bush. The wind blew through the gummy reeds. We were woke by the commie, wollering and teetering on the cabin roof.

"Get up, we're behind schedule, it's 7:02, by the hairs on me wrist."

We woke up groaning and moaning as usual. After brekkie of sossies and tommy sauce and sarnies, we laundered the boat (what? Australian unclear. -Ed) Then we got off to science class on the working of a sail, by Andy the hairy one. This sent Perth (quoi?) bounding like fairy kangas to our bonza skipper. (Run that one by me again... -Ed) We loaded our tinnies into our chilly bin- yep pilchards. I span 2 paste (toothpaste?) him. Yum, yum, and Charlene's spesh vegemite. Well mate, Endeavour motored off under full oar, encountering a bushy bank - unfortunately not the cash point at Lloyd's in Watford. Oh well, we put up sails anyway and toddled off. Okay.

Cruising down the river, takin' in the rays, admiring the surf and the pommies, we found Pip sharin' the same wave. Only one aloud (allowed?) so we sent her off to the bush, kangaroos and koalas flying. Well, too bad. Pommies eh, huh? Can't hold their stuff.

Then we shiftily steered in South Walsham. We had an Ossie lunch of sarnies with vegemite and other Australian goodies. Incidentally, why do Australians spell lager XXXX? Cos they can't spell beer! Blow me with a feather down (down with a feather? -Ed) we bombed up the Bure past the bonza sheilas and spunky blokes. We almost had a brush with the law - just mist a passin' yaught (yacht?) as we did a bonza gybe and cruised on down.

By this time, all four of us heard the dunnie calling - we no longer gave a XXXX about anything else so we held by our muddies in the billabong and took a siesta and midday passed on by.

In fact the rest of the day pottered along with a couple of frantic gybes and another dunnie run. So thanks folks. A day of croc hunting tomorra.

GRATEFUL END- What a Nightmare.
(Why bother with a spellchecker? -Ed)

Today dawned bright and breezy. I was in the middle of some Italian square, with mafiaso types shooting at each other. Suddenly there was an earthquake, and I realised that Brian was shaking the boat. The strain of the last two days was taking its toll. It was bright and breezy - an excellent opportunity for discussing the finer points of sailing. Drag, lift, angle of attack. Now, I believe it was the lack of sleep on the first night that explained the glazed faces that greeted me. Well, maybe not, because everyone seems to have been talking about the fact that they can't sail anymore. I understand why teachers are grateful for small mercies. The sail was good today and Bootlegger proved to be a worthy, if heavy, sailor. First Sonia heaved at the tiller as Bootlegger lumbered onto a new tack with all the grace of a 40 ton arti going round a roundabout. Then it was Anna's turn. Anna's looks are deceptive. She scented cruisers, and set about a lee bank crawl, with a cruiser trying to squeeze between her and the bank. Brian couldn't be persuaded on the helm. Strange, I thought! Maybe he prefers the land. We reached the mouth of Fleet dyke, and decided that tacking Bootlegger down was not fair on the nerves of all the cruisers moored along the bank. I decided we needed to down sails at the mouth, and headed for a spot which Carol had just vacated. Brian was holding the bow line and suddenly decided that land was not so attractive. I think the 6ft high nettles and thistles had something to do with it.

A final footnote to the day. We seemed to stay with the whole fleet... well, almost the whole fleet. Vagabond had left Womack in the morning, and hadn't been seen since. When we got back, we found Vagabond and Brown Bess. Alan was at the helm of Brown Bess, with Jackie Holdway eagerly crewing. Well, I thought... there's a thought! There are two possibilities. 1) Alan is trying, very unsubtly, to curry favour with SU. 2) Well, we mustn't gossip, must we...

"Has Commy called yet?" asked Brain (sorry, Brian -Ed). Well Brian, you may like to wake Commie and tell him his business, but at 5 o'clock in the morning I have more important things in my mind.

In due course Commie called - No Comment. After breakfast, quiet time and a much less taxing crew briefing, we went onto our boat for today. When I realised we were to be on Vagabond, I thought, "excellent, what a sail we're going to have!" Then it came to me what skipper came with it!

Non-compassionate, as he is more commonly known, is an interesting character. To start with, he is a Boughton, and we all know about them!

Well anyway, the day started well, with a bit of wind, so we upped the sails and set off, with only minor problems when Pippa set off just in front of us. However, it wasn't long before Alan, or N.C. became restless, something obviously caught from his brother, and Vagabond, not being fitted with engines, started quanting.

On reaching the Broad, we mudweighted with the rest and then went off to do our time trials. Katherine's went without a fault, surprising really, then it was my turn. It was OK, til Andy tried, and failed to push me into the mud. He still was not satisfied. OK, I admit as the overtaking boat the first time we had to keep out of his way, but the second time, he had no right. Then Alan started shouting such technical commands as "go about" and "push the tiller away from you" - well I mean to say, how after my four years on Harriers am I supposed to understand them, so of course I pulled the tiller towards me.

Then it was Lee's turn. We were coming round the island, when a cruiser appeared coming the other way, and this was a big cruiser. It just went on and on and on but Lee masterfully steered us by, while Alan gave up hope. Now it was here that Alan managed to show that he was the total master of being Non-Compassionate, and was really a born-again Boughton. Instead of congratulating Lee, he managed to upset Lee in a big way.

Never mind, after grovelling profusely, the relationship was restored and we decided to go round again. Coming round the island again, we met another cruiser. However, this time it was them, not us that Lee directed into the trees. Which was fine, til they reversed onto us. But it was then that Alan showed us his full mastership of the art of upsetting people, and Lee disappeared off forward to the other end of the boat. Alan again grovelled, this time on the foredeck. Alan, I must say you're also not bad at restoring the relationships you have destroyed. But then what do you expect of a skipper of Harriers? (let's not get into that -Ed).

Anyway, after an eventful day on an excellent boat, the day ended with Alan scrounging a tow off Commie.

"Time to get up folks", said the Commy in that special "bonding" way of his. Ah yes, three days into the cruise and you knew the wonderful timelessness of that call. It could have been any time at all. Until I looked at my watch. Realising that I may miss the tranquil soliloquy of the new day, I jumped out of bed and, after a quick massage of my head, donned my clothes and ventured forth. The day felt strangely different. There was this strange blue effect in the sky and it felt peculiarly dry. I couldn't cope. So in a break with Harriers tradition, I had a shower. I could break into this new "dry" phenomenon slowly.

Fully abluted, I returned to my yacht with a life of its own and had my sausage sandwich breakfast. Strangely when the words 'washing up' were heard, I looked at the frying pan and decided it was time to "slip away quietly to my own haven", but that didn't work, so I had the joy of dealing with the "special bonding" that had happened in the frying pan.

After an attempt by Andy to reduce us from expert (I'm sorry? -Ed) to novice sailors, the fleet set off to "dash across the open broads". I was sent to Spindrift where we spent a wonderful time observing the wildlife. Most of the wildlife we saw had a strange call - I will try to impersonate it... (and he did). The guide was true (Large passage missing from Broads manual. APOLOGIES -Ed), they were almost oblivious to our passing. Almost, that is, until Morgan ordered me to head for a group of five such specimens. They scattered. Their alarm call of "..." (please imagine appropriate noise) was heard. After encountering more wildlife, we arrived at South Walsham, and had quite a meal at anchor.

The sun rose drowsily - as did the crew. Over breakfast, the crew of Bootlegger slowly came to, and then it hit us - we realised what the day had in store - a Boughton, and us under his command. With dread we approached Vagabond.

Last night, Vicky and I had decided that it was necessary for Alan to learn a few essentials about the female mind - especially with us on board. Within ten minutes we'd tested this to the full - his patronising words led Vicky to neatly and firmly concuss him with the boom. Trying to convert Alan to a 90's man was an impossible task - he was firmly stuck in the dark ages. A quote:

"What's wrong with a bit of sexual harrassment, now and again?"

So we took him at his word, damping his fervour by pouring water over the only dry part of his body.

"Well, if it's equal opportunities you want, here's the quantpole" he retorted dryly (despite his physical state).

After a very taxing journey along the Ant, Alan piped up, "Oh, we're here, I didn't recognise it without the trees." This did not inspire great confidence in the skipper! Vicky and Ed leapt ashore to tow the boat along, as the wind was still non-existent. Jenny was left with the responsibility of the helm. Desperate to be alone with Alan, Ed and Vicky were left floundering on the bank. Some baby coots swam up to the boat and we spent a few minutes birdwatching, which was fine as long as you're not on the helm (a point that Alan frequently noted).

Setting off after lunch was interesting and certainly much changed from two hours earlier. "Yes of course the rain has stopped, let's go" I cried. But alas, half way through raising the sails, it hit us again. Too late to stop now, so we pressed on and were soon careering past Wood Anemone. Was she setting sail too? Oh no, their stern had simply drifted out to block the river. As Rosemary and co. peeked out, we rocketed past, full steam ahead. On seeing problems off the starboard, Ed promptly let go of the mainsheet, blocking his vision of the rest of the river. However, we soon righted this error and left for Ranworth.

Wednesday 3rd August 1994 - a black letter day. Everything started as normal for Harriers... Sunny and no wind. Andrew, David and Natalie arrived and we got the boat ready to drift up to Barton along with Wood Anemone, Vagabond and Brown Bess. Four boats drifting very slowly up the Ant, abreast, has a remarkable effect on cruisers. They were backed up in each direction like the traffic at the M25 roadworks. One cruiser driver commented on what good progress we were making given the wind, as he passed. He didn't comment on the progress he was making.

By and by, we arrived at Barton Broad with boats basking idly under the balmy blue sky. A sultry summer day on the water. We drifted around a bit and started getting hungry. We followed Spindrift around, hoping it would come to mudweight. Lunch passed wetfully as Katherine and Natalie thought that it was unfair that if they soaked me, I soak them. After lunch, we got ready to set sail. We were alongside Wood Anemone and as I pulled up the mudweight, I asked Andrew to take the bowline and walk down the side of Wood Anemone. This he duly did. As I started to look at the jib with thoughts of raising it, I looked up to see Andrew ready to help me raise the sail. He'd come straight back aboard!

"Oh S. dingbat. dingbat. T." I said, and leapt at the engine starter button.

We eventually got the sails up, and started sailing back to the start line for the competition. We noticed that the half decker was towing a dinghy and thought "that's clever of Spindrift to have got rid of their dinghy before doing the time trial" and we wondered if we could do the same. At that point, Rosemary shouted over from Brown Bess, "Want your dinghy back?"

We looked over out stern. It was indeed embarrassingly vacant. I looked quizzical, and asked how on earth it could have come untied. Andrew confessed that he'd tied it. That was before we'd spent the morning learning knots. Having said that, it had stayed attached all morning. It just seemed strange that it became untied after we'd had a water fight...

We duly started on the time trial round the island. Now Alan is a nice guy, but he does like to pass to windward (pass what to windward? -Ed). We wanted to tack for our next leg, as high up wind as possible. He wouldn't give us water, so we luffed him up. We then came to go about, and shouted in a loud voice "Going about!", at which point they gybed, forcing us to gybe downwind.

They then tacked. Referee, Red card!! Cynical professional foul, and Alan looked all innocent, saying something about a "mistake". I ask you, Vagabond by name, Vagabond by nature (at the same time, I made a note of the technique - very clever). After the competition, we sailed around a bit, and then headed off the broad to the Ant. And just to cap an eventful day of drifting powerless towards Neatishead, losing the dinghy, fouled by Vagabond, I tripped overboard. But there you go, it never rains, it pours. But that's today's story.

This morning, the sun didn't even venture over the horizon. Knowing I was on Quiet time duty, I stayed in bed - until people started arriving and then I staggered from one end of Spindrift to the other in my pyjamas and jumper. During the meeting, I discovered that I haven't forgotten A level work already and quite impressed myself.

Crew briefing was again very gentle and not very demanding - I'm still struggling with Lift and Drag!

We set off for Wood Avens, our boat for the day and once there, we tried to persuade Carol that the sticky situation we wanted was a mudbank. It was not to be. After watching Wood Anemone's rather erratic tacking, we set off rather more gently. We had three lee banks as our difficult situations and all were handled masterfully. We were the last to leave and we successfully held our position.

On our final lee bank, we decided to get the sails down and eventually the mast. Carol failed miserably to get the crutches overboard, partly because she was directed to the bows to do the forestay!

To say the bridge was uneventful would be boring and untrue; guess what cruiser caused chaos trying to pull into the traffic jam going through the bridge. Once through, we moored with others of the cruise for lunch. Then the heavens opened. It poured. While most people put waterproofs on, Lee removed her shorts!! At first she was just in her swimming cozzie and life jacket ("buoyancy aid" - Pedantic Ed) but eventually she decided to put her woolly hat on.

Most people seem to put the blame for the rain on Alan, since he had just bought a sunhat! On the subject of Alan - we are a bit confused. Not an hour after saying he didn't understand females, he was seen walking with his arms around a married woman. Andy - if you didn't know about this, I apologise sincerely!

Anyway, the rest of the day was spent either attempting to tack or quant. Lee in her interesting outfit was getting quizzical, amused (lustful? -Ed) looks from cruisers. Many photos were taken of this strange yacht with a girl in a swimming costume and hat and a crew singing children's action songs at the top of their voices.

Ranworth broad was missed out because funnily enough we were going much too slowly to get there before midnight. We were sailing along when Alex passed in the rowing boat. What had happened on Bootlegger for him to desert in such a way? I turned round. Katy was on the helm! ('nuf said -Ed)

We were sailing along next to each other (well, Bootlegger chugged, we quant chugged) when Southern Comfort loomed on the horizon. It definitely changed direction to take us in its lumbering course. We soon realised it was Lee's swimming costume attracting attention again!

Harriers C
Not the training cruise it ought to be,
Could it be the lack of wind we see,
Oh we believe in Harriers B.

Harriers C
Weather is a liability
Precipitation's on the way to me,
Every day ends soggily.

Why we have to quant in the rain
We couldn't say
Feels like something's wrong
Now we long for Harriers A.

Harriers C
Not the grade of skippers they should be
Andy Reid prefers to swim you see
And let's not mention Carol P.

Harriers C
Where every boat's a specialty
Learn to trim your jib with Alan B
And take a class in climatology.

Will we all return, could you guess
What would you say?
Harriers never learn
Bet they'll be back anyway.

Harriers C
The food's improving exponentially
Smash is over, and there's mince for tea
There's no more words that end in E.

We're the Harriers training week,
Their skippers are both smooth and sleek,
And Commodores abound in numbers great.
We're the Harriers straining week,
They think we know the jib, throat, peak
The RYA at level 3 we seek.

We're all on Harriers week C,
The cruise for Commodores to be,
Young Alan Boughton we have got to train.
The stress is very great you see,
His favoured nickname is E.D.
The jib he only sails and not the main.

We're on the Harriers training cruise,
A melting pot of many views,
From Morgan, Brian and always Andy Reid.
The early morning sailing class,
The skippers can't attend alas!
When surely they must have the greatest need.

We're all the Harriers cruising pros,
The fleet with very many foes,
To cruiser drivers everywhere a dread.
And now with water pump guns armed,
All other bilge rats can be harmed,
The water's guaranteed as "Flush and go".

Harriers, we're the Harriers,
We're the modern Harriers C.
From all round the country,
We're always making history!
Let's ride along the Norfolk broads,
With the courtesy of Alan's quant
When you're with the Harriers,
Have a super, smashing cruise time,
A smashing cruise time,
We'll have a super time.

We've got water in the bilges and bilge water in our hair,
Our drawers are all afloat, but by now we just don't care.
But there's one thing that makes us mad and drives us to despair,
What don't we want? We don't want to quant!

Chorus:
There is nothing like a quant,
Nothing in the broads.
There is nothing we could want,
There is nothing like a quant.

I am the very model of a modern summer Harrier,
I sail in lots of sailing boats which in comfort carry yer.
The lack of winds upon the Broads is certainly no barrier,
For I'm the very model of a modern summer Harrier.

Our shooting of the bridges: Potter, Ludham, is dramatical,
When Alan Boughton takes the helm, beware - he is fanatical.
And taught by Andy Reid we've learnt sailing skills mathematical.
But when he falls into the the Broads the crew are all ecstatical.

When coming down the river Ant we tack with such a style
We send the cruisers scattering; they cannot stand the trial.
The fishermen they see us coming grab their rods - but we just wave and smile
For we're just perfect models of modern summer Harriers.

And every day you see I'm getting redder and bedraggelder,
When I get home, my friends will say I've gotten even madderer,
But I'll be back next year, you mustn't let that worry - yer,
For I'm the very model of the modern summer Harrier.

At first I was afraid, I was petrified,
to think that I could never sail without you by my side
And then I got to thinking how I could do you wrong,
I grew strong and I learned how to quant along.
But now you're there with all my space,
I just turned around to find you there with that lost look upon your face,
I should've changed my stupid tack, I should've held upon the lee,
If I'd know for just one second you'd be here to follow me,
Oh now go, rev up the broad,
With the worry that you've caused me, that's the least you can afford
Weren't you the one who tried to force me into the bank,
But did I crumble when Bootlegger sank, Oh did I
I will survive, as long as I know how to quant, I know I'll stay alive
I've got all my strength to give, I will survive, I will survive, hey, hey.

Don't moor your boat on a leeward bank,
Don't moor it too near the trees,
Well it might look kind of nice,
But you'll have to moor it twice
'cos you'll not get off the bank with ease.
You've got to moor your boat where Spindrift goes
Where there's a good firm bank and showers and loos,
Well the storms may come and stay,
But Commie's wrath will go away.

Don't quant your boat where the river is deep,
Don't quant where the beds are firm
If your quanting pole gets stuck,
You'll be swimming with the ducks
And man-overboard your crew will learn
To quant your boat takes power, strength and skill
You still have to do it if you're feeling ill
And the winds may come and go,
But quanting well you will know.

Don't make a fuss about the food that you get
Don't say you don't like the choice
If you don't like eating rice,
You won't have to eat it twice,
This is one time you should rejoice.
But then don't forget the washing up,
And the plates and bowls and pans and cups,
Just call the Commodore,
Don't you know that's what he is for.