Breaking the mould

Recently we have been dropping down to the yard en masse to check on the progress of Calypso. I'm not sure whether our children are especially wild or whether it's normal for boys but they seem to explode out of the car and disperse like a gas into all corners of the yard, causing all sorts of trouble. The twins are only four, so I don't expect them to really grasp what is going in terms of "building our own boat" but I am hopeful that the bigger boys will learn a lot from the process. The concept of the inside-out boat has been quite hard to grasp, one day we spent a few minutes discussing this and although Inigo, our seven year old, was concentrating really hard, it clearly wasn't getting through. Suddenly I came up with a great way of explaining it. "Ini, you remember last year you made those chocolate Easter eggs using a plastic mould"? - Inigo's face lights up, and that's it, the boat has gone, his brain is entirely full of chocolate. "How many days is it til Easter Mummy"? Suddenly I find myself calculating how many days til Easter, one of the twins falls over, and the moment is lost! Maybe next week I'll think of a better example, not involving chocolate.

Ugly duckling

For most of the year the Contessa 32 mould sits outside in the car park at the Lymington Yacht Haven with "CO32" scrawled across it in spray paint. Of course, I know it's inside out, and the outside doesn't matter, but I have to admit it's not been really obvious to me how those beautiful boats come out of such a rough looking thing. All became clear last week when the mould was brought into the yard and cracked open. Once polished up, the inside of the mould is like a perfect replica of the outside of a Contessa 32. First, two layers of gel coat are laid down on the top sides, and then layer after layer of fibreglass, soaked in resin. It may be the least green part of the boat building process, but it is at least reassuring to see the strength built in to this hull when I think about the sea miles this boat will carry my family.