THE VOYAGE OF THE GOLDEN BEHIND

This is a charming family story of the sort which has driven many a great-nephew to extreme tedium.  This one, however, has a compelling charm and fascinating narrative.

This is the story of how my Great Uncle, Albert Kipper, entered the single-leggéd round-Norfolk race, which went from Gorleston in the South to Kings Lynn in the North.  This was a special race for sailors with wooden legs, and Uncle Albert was known for his wooden leg.  He used it for things like nailing up boxes and playing snooker - that sort of thing.  We never did find out whose it was, as a matter of fact, but he couldn't half waltz!  I think to take part in the race you was actually supposed to have a leg missing, but Albert turned up with his wooden leg and they couldn't find no rule to stop him entering, so he did.

His boat was called the Golden Behind, for reasons I won't go into for less than a tenner, but that was a square-cut wind-jammer or some such.  That don't matter unless you're interested in such things.  And if you are you're probably too busy varnishing your bottom to listen anyhow, so bugger you!

Now Albert only entered the race at the last minute, so he didn't know the route nor nothing.  So as he passed the pier-head at Gorleston he saw this bloke in oil-skins and a Nor-Easter.  A Nor-Easter is a bit like a sou-wester, but a bloody sight colder.  So Albert semaphored to ask the way to Lynn.  And the bloke semaphored back that all he had to do was to keep the coast to the something side and he couldn't go wrong.  I say keep the coast to the something side because just as the bloke was waving that bit the boom jibbed - or the jib boomed, or whatever - and Albert couldn't read the signal which said what side he had to keep the coast to.  So he thought well, there's two chances.  It's either keep the coast to port or keep the coast to starboard.  So he tossed his double-headed penny and it came up port, which to you and me is left.  But Albert said to himself no, you're not catching me out like that - that was a double headed coin, so it must be starboard, which is right - although as a matter of fact that was wrong.

So he stuck out his wooden leg as a signal, turned right out of Gorleston harbour, and set off as fast as he could sail.  After a bit he wondered why there weren't no other single-leggéd sailors going that way.  But then he come to these great white cliffs with bluebirds over them, and he thought, Ah, that'll be Cromer, so I'm about half way.  But as he went past the Isle of Wight he saw a sign saying Yarmouth, so he thought that must be further than he thought, but then he thought that couldn't be, otherwise he wouldn't have thought that in the first place.  As he went round Lands End he did consider stopping to ask.  But then he said well, if I'm going right there's no point in asking, and if I'm going wrong that was asking that got me wrong in the first place, so what's the point in making it worse?

So he just kept going, round Wales, past the Mull of Gatawny, all round the top of Scotland and down the other side.  And he thought I never knew Norfolk was so huge.  Eventually he come to a sign which said 'Berwick-on-Tweed welcomes careful sailors', and he couldn't for the life of him think of a Norfolk village that welcomed anyone, but he pressed on.  He passed Newcastle, and Scarborough, and by the time he got to Skegness he was begining to think of turning back.  As a matter of fact he did try to turn back, but he couldn't find reverse.  That's because reverse on a boat is called a vast stern or some such.  But it's just as well Albert couldn't turn back, because just as he was down to his last barrel of rum and a ship's biscuit full of weasels he come upon a notice saying 'The Wash - please remove all objects from pockets and turn trousers inside out'.  Which he did.

And before much longer he found himself sailing into Kings Lynn Harbour to discover that he'd won the race.  You see, all the other boats had been delayed because of a pile-up at Cromer Pier, which meant the coast had been closed and they'd all been diverted via Holland.  And he was very nearly the toast of the town, but that was his own fault, for smoking in bed.

He won the first and only prize, which was a device for removing splinters from your leg, which is quite useful if the other one's wooden!  And when the celebrations had calmed down they all set off for home again.  Most of them went via Cromer, but Albert went the way he'd come.  Well, like he said, that made sense to stick to the way he knew.

Now a lot of nautical people come up to me after this story and ask me questions about how Albert was rigged, and how much freeboard and lodgings he had, and technical stuff like that.  And do you know what I say to them?  I say I knew you'd be too busy stroking your crew to listen, so bugger you!