Now winter is drawing in, people are getting busy in garages up and down Europe. Here's examples from Weston-Super-Mare and Paris:

Paul Croote is rebuilding his Dog Cheese Before Bedtime. The original 1990 bulkheads look in good shape after 16 years of hard service. Of note are the beautiful new vertical go-fast single-skin topsides which will provide an easy route in and out for the helm and crew.

Ghislain Devouthon is building the Slug which is not yet named, but is known for conveniance the Natural Born Skiffeurs in his garage in Paris. The progress is rapid, and the ribbonny twill is radical looking.

Tom Kiddle took The Flying Kipper to Weymouth with guest crew Eva Cuhna for a play in the predicted non breeze as a representative of Team Solent. Heres what happened…

As could be expected, the house we had rented for the weekend had far more people staying in it than it was designed for, this made the main aim for Friday to get there as early as possible. Not for competitive reasons, eg an afternoons practice to get your head round the breeze, tide patterns etc. but instead to make sure you had the best room! Sadly for them, it seemed that the freshers were lacking the required skills of lecture twagging and fast boat towing and so arrived late and ended up with the sofas! Note for the future; If you take a girl, you get the room with an en-suite! (result)

Saturday dawned, the water could be seen. It wasn't a mirror, but close. Unlike most students, a group shop had been made, and a breakfast chef elected. This meant that the sight of still water across the bay was offset with the smell of bacon and scrambled eggs. The main briefing was at 9:30 with registration before that. So for all involved it was an early morning despite following a relatively calm night by student standards! After a few reunions with friends from around the country, it was time to rig. This was a very relaxed affair under the comfort of the AP flag. We were released an hour after racing was due to start so the fleet did it's best to drift out to the committee boat. It was evident that The Flying Kipper was sailing heavier than she is used to, this lead to a worried look from Tom as the transom sat millimeters from the water. Eva was ordered to make use of her dry suit and tow the boat ashore (it wasn't that far). Once ashore it became clear that the boat wasn't carrying water or minus a bung, it is just that her normal crew is far far lighter than any beer drinking, kebab eating student could ever hope to be. So back out under Eva power to at least get enough wind to move. Time came for 'all aboard' and it was then that Eva found out the hard way that a cherub is far more tender than a 470. So it was decided, on the basis of decency, that the best approach would be over the stern. It was then that Tom's suspicions were confirmed that students are heavier than his normal crew… in full view of the academy's balcony the pole pointed at the nearest still cloud, and the boat toppled over. Not good!

On to the race. Having found a lane to the race area we started our watches. The start was beginning to look OK. Second row with nearly 70 boats bobbing about. At this point the non cherubs were able to drift slightly faster and use their bigger than a 91 cherub rigs to cover The Flying Kipper's entirely. Fourth row, bad. The fleet ouched them selves off the line making sure the marshals weren't watching and The Flying Kipper tried to make the best of it. The first beat was sailed like a race by The Flying Kipper sailing to the port lay line to make as take as much advantage of a swinging breeze as possible. Despite this, dead last. Not too much of a surprise, but annoying. The rest of the race was sailed around the back of the fleet chasing a laser 3000. Having just crossed the start/finish line for the first time, a gun fired and a blue flag flew. Tom shouted to the committee boat. “Does that mean we've got to sail another 52 minute lap within the 25 minute time limit we have to finish behind the leader?” “Yes” came the reply “So you'd better get going!” In an attempt to be sporting The Kipper carried on regardless. Just before the windward mark we met our friends in the Laser 3000, whose trapeze harness we had rescued earlier, Tom shouted “do you reckon you can finish in the time limit? You've got two minutes left!” during this shout The Kipper had born away to follow. As the gun fired and the finish line closed, “Pub 'o' Clock?” “Your on” came the reply from the Bristol Ladies in the 3000. It seemed not all was lost.

Sunday. After a night in the world famous 'Rendezvous' (details deliberately omitted) it was time to get up. This time the water really did look like a mirror, so back to bed. After much rehydrating it was time to visit the boats, on the drive down we saw flags happily flying in a gentle breeze. Bugger! Cover off at 9:55 in preparation for the race at 10:30. It seems Team Solent had made the most of their night in a rented house with four of their boats missing the start. A 420, two Musto Skiffs and The Kipper. The racing was much the same, uneventful and slow. The most exciting part of the day was a near protest from a laser 2000 to The Kipper. “Protest, get out my F$%&ing way” came the cry. Not wanting to get involved in a rule talk. The Kipper's crew gave the reply. “Unless you wont a rule 69, I'de let us stay exactly where we are” Which was greeted by a silence. Objective achieved. Time to pack up and say our goodbyes. A quick chat with the 3000 girls as they finished tying down their steed, prize giving and hop in the car. Event done, little wind but good over all. Time to go home and sleep. Or so I though.

Sunday Night. Home at last, open the boot to remove my gear. S**T! wheres my gear? ow no………. it's in the dinghy park. Quick on the phone to mothist Alex Adams, weymouth local. He scrambled like a jet fighter, to find a very dark and very empty boat park.

Monday. Alarm at 8:59, not what you want after a student event. To ring WPNSA reception. “Nothing has been found” awww. “But it is logged” not overly comforting having realised you dads GPS is in your bag next to your overly priced prescription sunglasses. Not forgetting tool box, mast ram and spinnaker. Two phone calls and an email to BUSA. Still nothing. It seemed that the only person who was going to look for it, was me. But Weymouth is a long way away from Southampon when you're on foot. So I struck a deal with a car owning friend, a trip to Weymouth in return for taking his place on a 707 for the weekend. He drove a hard bargain, but having calculated the replacement cost of my bag I agreed. This took off the pressure slightly until I was later informed that the deal had been changed. Instead of going early on Wednesday, we would being going late in the evening to coincide with my drivers other errand of picking up a friend from Bournemouth airport. Not ideal, searching in the darkness when reception would be closed. So I turned to the Cherub community, knowing I wouldn't be left in my current pickle. The Hero of the day turned out to be our fixtures officer, Tim Noyce.

Wednesday. Off we went, at break neck speed in the Noyce 'family wagon'. Both parties had thought the trip would be quick and easy but it seemed that lots of old people had been mistaken and had gone out for their Sunday drive on the wrong day! After a slight navigation error we ended up in down town Weymouth looking at a nice fish and chip restaurant, but this would have to wait, there was a mission to be accomplished. So on we pressed. 25 minutes of boat park scouring revealed nothing. So off to the reception I had been phoning all week. “Hello” “How can I help” said a voice i didn't recognise from over the phone. So I explained my story, or at least started to. Until I was interrupted. “is it a black kit bag with a grey kite bag” “YES!” was my reply. “WHERE?!” under the stairs of the outside balcony. A fast and very exciting walk round the site of the building and my kit was there. “Where's my rope bag?” “Catch that sea gull!” Which was easily achieved, with bit of a shout and a sprint and it dropped the bag. Mission complete. So back to the reception to express our thanks, and to confirm dates for the 2007 nationals and we were done. Off to the nice eatery we had spotted earlier for a celebratory meal. Thanks again must go to the hero of the day, Tim Noyce