Gisborne… cont’d
‘Ghosts,’ I murmured.
‘Your pardon?’
Guy turned away from surveying the sea to focus on me. As I observed the state of his hair, his beard and his clothes, I wondered how close to vagabonds we seemed.
‘Ghosts,’ I murmured.
‘Your pardon?’
Guy turned away from surveying the sea to focus on me. As I observed the state of his hair, his beard and his clothes, I wondered how close to vagabonds we seemed.
‘A tack as a part of the tacking maneuver; in which a sailing boat turns its bow through the wind’ (wikipedia)
It must be evident to any who read this blog that I have a predilection for life by the sea. That I love the ocean, being in it, on it or under it.
I was invited today to join in a blog event/tour called FanstRAvaganza in March to celebrate the various skills of Richard Armitage, English actor.
For a moment, I thought why would I? Or even would I?
I spent time huddled in a corner of the deck, a cloak wrapped round fending off the damp of the ocean. Guy took his share of the watch in the dark hours. Just he, Davey and a skeleton crew whilst the others yawned, snored and filled the spaces around me with their odour.
Okay folks, time for some lessons in pronunciation. I need your help.
How do you pronounce Gisborne?
Is it Gisborne as in ‘Borne’?
or
Is it Gisborne as in ‘Gisbn’?
Over to you as Guy’s too amused by it all.
Cousins? He jests, surely. Whatever he had been going to answer, this was not what I had expected to hear. I thought of Vasey the first time I had met him in Le Mans.