Jeux Sans Frontieres

Those as old as me will recall the late Eddie Waring and the great Stuart Hall and It's A Knockout.  I hated it but it's relevant here, not because I dress up in a huge foam suit and wear large shoes whilst sliding down a slope and carrying buckets of water, but because yesterday I played my joker.

In the competition that is Brunswick v Cramlington. the former contestant has silently (ish) edged ahead and I had high hopes that yesterday's pelagic would at least get me level or, dare I say, sneak to the front.

Not a hope. 

Despite a well organised trip, with perfect weather (for the first half anyway), the birds were pre-ticked and so no additions were made.

The thrill was not the variety nor quantity but the proximity.  Fulmars, Gannets, GBBGs and Kittiwakes close enough to almost touch, and the best views of Sooties and Bonxies I have had.  Excellent.

But the Lifers and 'Yearers' that kept me awake as the big day neared failed to appear (unless you were on land, that is).

Sea watching is bad enough as your quarry appears then disappears as the swell goes up and down.  But when you are going up and down too, it's infuriating.

And you know you are getting too attached to Skuas when the sight of one makes you regurgitate your lunch (three times)!

So all in all, I returned to base, eight hours after setting sail with high hopes, wet, cold, ill and with 'him' still ahead.

And an audit of my lists this morning showed a school boy error (no, that's not something a shamed MP makes.  Or is it!) and so it's now 204 v 202.

Bugger!