It got off to a good start when Geert, Joanna and David arrived on the Sunday. They had been travelling for many many hours, were thirsty and David mentioned he liked Bass. No doubt he actually meant an occasional gentle drink of Bass, but his mistake was saying it in Wales and saying it to Porky; either one of these two circumstances might have saved them, but together they were fatal and the activities for the rest of the day were in no doubt.

The rowing club happened to have a new barrel of Bass on and happened to be open for lunch, so we all strolled down for some ale. Six hours later (lunch opening hours kinda stretched a little) and many pints/songs later our dazed guests staggered home via The Salt for a meal curtesy of Porky (thanks). By this time they were all wondering where on earth they had landed and whether or not the Welsh are actually sane - and the rest is history. Geert moved to Strongbow as his favoured tipple during the course of the event (the sailing event as a whole that is), David stuck to Bass and Jo went all girly on us and drank water...

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