It is impossible to be good at everything. I have tried. I signed up for my first ever solo sailing race on Sunday and it was a disaster. H signed up for the concurrent junior race and was the only competitor, so she got to start 5 minutes after the adults and join in their course. She actually finished the short course while I took over 30 minutes to cross the start line. It was awful, there was little wind and what there was shifted around and I never got to go anywhere, except backwards a little and then back to the shore cross and fed up. Bah. My confidence was elevated to the point of entering a race by the great sailing I had done in Portugal, where in quite brave conditions for me I had sailed with two sails and then with two sails and H on the trapeze wire dangling off the side. If I knew how I would import a bit of video in here for you to see that I can do it, except we didn't take any.

My lack of confidence/enthusiasm/competence for IT reached new heights, when on losing my mobile for the millionth time ( think it is in a field in Netley) I don’t care and am enjoying getting on with life without one, and the thought of going into one of those shops with no visible products and just shelves with phones around the edge makes me feel sick. I don’t have a clue what I would want, if I wanted one at all. R had done all the contracts since he first insisted I get a phone, when H was born. That is 9 years of no competence or experience or knowledge or interest. I am just going to not mention it, and if people really want to contact me they can ring our house or come round on their horses like in the olden days.

Portugal. Is a very warm and pleasant place for a holiday with nice beaches and friendly natives, who go to beaches on Sundays even when it is not sunny. The temperatures varied between 20 C and 38 C during our week long stay, and one day we went to the beach was the 20 day, with most of Portugal’s population out in their bikinis. They are up there with the Brits in the obesity wars, I can tell you. We did a few sessions of sailing back at the sailing school in Foz de Arholo ( or similar spelling) which we visited a lot last year. This year was A’s turn to have a go in an Oppie, with R wading after her to give her advice and commands to avoid disaster on the high seas. When disaster struck and she capsized, or to coin her new word, a capsization, it was R’s fault for talking to her too much. A came up with another malapropism, when she observed that Portuguese drivers don’t use their escalators much when turning corners. Or their indicators when ascending inside shopping malls. We stopped at a mall on the way back to the airport to get tea, and found a great bargain corner in the hypermarket where I purchased two sets of towel, goggles and swim hat for 47 cents each. Would have bought more but the bags were full. You can never have too many towels.

In a bid to not do any house work this summer, we stayed a night with G M, who kindly picked us up from Heathrow. I was delighted to do a run in Bushey Park which went ok, as my running in Portugal was sluggish at best and walking at worst. I am doing a duathlon in Bushey Park soon and wanted to get in some running there, plus it is a fabulous, flat and wild landscape within a mile of G M’s house. We then spent 4 nights at Netley, camping, after having done some washing and filing of post accumulated – recycling, mostly, as people still seem to think I want to buy takeaway pizza, despite not having done so since about 2000. We had really mixed camping weather, with a grim rainy afternoon on Saturday which was sister in law Ang’s birthday. They came down to join us, Angus sleeping in the tent and the rest of the family sleeping in our house. Ang tells me that it always rains on her birthday, so make a note not to plan any events for 7 August, ever. A is loving her new freedom on her bike and pedals around the sailing club constantly. The only problem is that she tries to turn on rough stony ground. I have never got through Savlon, antiseptic wipes like this. I even had to buy some melonin or whatever that super wound dressing stuff is called. She has scrapes and cuts that make her look like a NSPCC advert.

H and I did go back to the same piercing place, btw, where a lovely gentle man used needles to do H’s ears and she didn’t even flinch. She has been really good at remembering to do the Savlon spray applications, so I am thinking that shares in Savlon would be a good buy right now. Or a fortnight ago.

Today I went to a aerobics class called Body Vibe, which involved no calling up dead spirits at all, but some press ups and balancing with a ball and dancing around. I also did a bit of swimming, but got irritated by my goggles not working. When we were in Wales a few weeks back I went to a cycling fitness class at Esporta Bridgend, and then swam my 600m in a 25m pool to time myself ready for the West Wight Tri. Wales was a brief event, it was raining when we arrived and things didn’t improve much. We went to Barry Island, much to the mirth of my cousins, but I and the girls thinks its a great beach, wide and safe and sandy, and rightly a popular spot with St David and the Welsh. They could give the Portuguese a serious worry if the World Cup was for average BMI. We were mainly in Wales, for all of 20 hours, for a party for my cousin who is 40. It was a fancy dress party, or that is what he told the family, as we all dutifully turned up looking stupid to find half of the Welsh contingent hadn’t got the same invitations and thought it was smart casual. Or that was their fancy dress? Seeing a girl getting out of a taxi in Porthcawl to go out on the town it was hard to tell who was in fancy dress and what is normal wear for the Welsh of an evening. Again, if my camera was working by now you would see some pics, but its run out of batteries and despite my best efforts they are not recharging like they used to.

Today I caught two buses and one of them was so full I had to stand some of the way. I was a bit overwhelmed with being in Kingston, it was loud and full of people and traffic and just not as nice as I remembered it, plus it was raining. There was a topless man with a scar down his tummy shouting at people in the street. It was a relief to get off the bus in Claygate and hear the birds and the quiet. I really am getting antisocial in my old age. I found it all so noisy. I am glad I don’t live in Kingston and get to live in a really peaceful part of Southampton, with woods for running in within a km of my front door, and the sea within 3 miles ( I know all this because of using my pedometer on runs lately, having worked out how to reset it).