The Trouble with being an Athiest

The trouble with being an athiest is that if your wrong the one thing thats really going to get on god's goat (apart of couse from Ant and/or Dec) is Athiests.

Maybe there is a god, and he's punishing me for not beliving him.

More likley I'm right and this is global warming, which means its more George Dubbya Bush is fault. Right? He invaded Iraq and invented global warming right?

The weather's turned rotten again. The planed pleasant last day day of 18 kn norhterly pushing us most of the last 190 miles became 6 hours of screaming 30kn northerly then swiched in the space of about 1/2 an hour to 25 kn westerly. The results of the associated waves of that just caused me to fall over. I was lyng in bed at the time! The waves are large random and distorted. The result is we're doing three knots under engine with the boat bobing around like a rubberduck in a bath full of children high on sugary soft drinks.

Jackal Log probably wednesday the somnthingth
or other of July, position near austrailia:
Weather V stormy, crew V Mutanious, fags V low,
magnetic scabble letters must be stuck to compass
or I am sailing up Droilsden Gully*, 
GPS just fell on my head, think an albatos just shot at us.

Obviously we picked up about 10 inches of rain during the change over. Australia's sufferting a drout, all the water is [SLAM boat falls off a wave rattling teeth and crockery], all the water is here, 75 miles East of the Victoria/NSW border. Falling on us.

I don't know why you bother reading this, I'm bored out of my skull, using the laptop in bed with my feet braced on the wall. It fell off the table. I've got nothing better to do than rant about the mid winter weather. I supose I shall have to drag my self out of bed for the daily scrabble game. A game which has become harder since the long lost j apeard a few weeks back in a cockpit locker, and a large and to my mind uncessary pile of vowels tunred up in the bookshelf. I had a feeling somthing wasn't right with yesterdays game, and lo the x was located on the cockpit floor this morning, now I realise what was missing.

* Droilsden Gully is a little know industrial sewer in Manchester somewhere, which our beloved skipper once comapred the Grand Canyon too.