15 December 2017 | Tipperary Waters Marina
Friday 15 December 2017
One might suppose from the previous installment of this drivel that we don't like the time of year associated with Saturn, the nascent return of Sol (northern hemisphere) and the birth of that Jewish fellow some considerable time ago. Au contraire. The holidays are terrific - favorite time of year. Music is festive and overt jollity is wonderfully uplifting. People seem to be friendlier, drinking to excess is considered appropriate and, contrary to popular opinion, suicide is less prevalent (look it up). Oh sure, there's that little tiff with Santa ever since he forgot to bring us the Hylas 54 back in 2013 (can't believe how nice I was for literally days at a time), but have since acclimated to the 46. After all, it's plenty big enough, costs less to maintain and, using the sour grapes rationalization, the old scoundrel would probably have given us a junker painted orange that didn't included good cruising gear or spare parts.
Living in the great outdoors, particularly where UV is most vicious, engenders unusually high sun damage. Fortunately Imiquimod and Fluorouracil creams have been developed that murder abnormal cells allowing normal skin to regrow. Unfortunately, skin thus treated gains an appearance between a bad case of mange and a worse case of leprosy. Face feels like it's being attacked by a swarm of ravenous red ants. Even more unfortunately, after three or four weeks of use, effects get worse before getting better over the course of a couple of months. It has, however, dramatically ameliorated the nuisance of strangers coming over to chat me up. It's such a relief not to be pestered by gorgeous women who might, quite understandably, mistake me for Brad Pitt.
Jan, who perhaps hasn't sussed my true identity and continues to fraternize, received her last radiation treatment today. All that's left are third weekly, no symptom (except for the potential, closely monitored heart damage thing) Herceptin injections until July and inducing hair to grow faster. The Sinead O'Connor look actually works for her pretty well (what with her having a head shape far more pleasing than the lumpy spheroid, gratefully hidden by hair, atop rest of crew), but there are still the issues of sunburn, wind chill and sun reflection blinding so she's decided to reprise the original look. Shouldn't take more than a couple of years and for awhile the head scarf emotes a much coveted pirate look. All she needs now is an eye patch, a tricorne hat and, what should be the sine qua non of any good buccaneer, a parrot squawking words that put him on Santa's naughty list.