Tag Archives: sailing

Round the Island Race 2017

If you live on the coast of Hampshire or the Isle of Wight you probably look forward to the annual Round the Island yacht race. This is the largest yacht race in the world with almost 1600 boats taking part in an anti-clockwise circumnavigation of the Isle of Wight. Everything from 80 foot millionaires play things to sleek America’s Cup speed machines together with tiny folk boats and family day cruisers take part. 

As a photographer I have tried in vain, for the last six years, to take a decent photograph of this huge sailing event. I have been up to the Needles park in a gale, walked to Hurst Castle multiple times and this year had a great opportunity to get on the water with a friend,Mark Redpath in his motor boat. The only down side was that the visibility was less than great. However, you play the cards you’re dealt and I managed to get a few decent shots including a rescue by the Coast Guard chopper.

The only downside was that, due to the tides, the race started at 5.30am so Mark and I were catching the tail-Enders at 7.00am. Next year let’s hope for a slightly later kick off.



Ahoy there Sir Bufton-Tufton: Or how I’m learning to dress for the country

When you live in London, you can wear whatever you want.  Walk down Greek Street at 9am in a full body PVC bondage suit with a zipped mask and nailed collar
and you won’t be a freak, simply someone heading back from a late party. Wear an Andian hat and the chances are you’re either a Peruvian resident or a new
media wannabe.  This complete anonymity has always appealed to me, as I’m what my wife would call, sartorially challenged.

Then we bought a house in Lymington, a town on the edge of the New Forest and also a major sailing centre.  At the same time, I inherited a lots of what you
might call classic English country clothing.  This included Barbour jackets, tweeds, corduroy and Tattershall shirts. For those who don’t know this look,
imagine a cross between Brideshead Revisited and PG Woodhouse. So I donned these clothes not confident that my non-urban wardrobe would work but hoping I
wouldn’t look like a complete jerk.

Last night we drove down from London and headed straight for our local pub in Lymington, the Mayflower. I walked in wearing a tweed jacket, Brookes Brothers yuppie shirt and cords.  I felt like a retarded American golfer wearing tartan trousers and a sun visor.  Everyone else was in rugby shirts, shorts, stripped shirts and jeans. In a moment, I realised my brand references weren’t Barbour but Heni Hansen, not Aquascutum but Musto. Luckily, I didn’t have to switch on my neon sign which reads ‘Hello, I am a tosser’.  I think they got the message anyway.

So today we hit the sailing shops and I apologise in advance to my colleagues.  Sir Bufton -Tufton just got nautical. And don’t get me started on Waitrose – I am enslaved.