The ultimate pre-dinner checklist. These telling words muttered by he who should not be named as he stepped into the dinghy, en route Time Bandit for Sunday dinner.

Previously, while the shoeless wonder and I were guzzling down beer, having gate crashed the Sail Port Stephens Regatta Week party, Anne was back on board doing great things to a Woolworths chicken, parsnips and spuds.

We on the other hand were endeavouring to keep a low profile, trying to blend in amongst the race crews by muttering about uphauls, tacking angles and other such nautical terms. There's upwards of a hundred smart looking, "sharp boats" here, most clad in seductive black carbon or fetching translucent Mylar sails. Unfortunately we got busted fairly quickly as we were pretty much the only ones not wearing branded yachtie gear, Gill, Musto and the like. Instead, we were in cruiser gear; over-worn, T-shirts, faded shorts and Crocs and Decathlon gutties.

We watched the beginning and end of the first two races and delighted ourselves that our tactical knowledge and racing skills were still right there, just under the cruising mantle, as we harshly critiqued the passing boats, "his main needs flattened ". "SHEEEET you muppets", all while sipping down a cold one.

Strangely our skills increased in direct proportion to the number of beers consumed.