I took a photo of the top of Sid’s head after a week on board, but he insisted I deleted it.
It is not a pretty sight. There are five or six gouges, because Sid, unlike me or indeed any of our mascots, has a Bald Head. (“S” has already told you about his views on the perils of having a Bald Bottom.) And Sid is also three or more inches taller than I am.
So when I graze doorways, and have my fine thick hair help me bounce merrily off all the other bits of boat that you routinely hit, Sid hits them hard and leaves skin behind each time.
We have been composing the Song of Sid’s Head. It goes to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
Look out Sid and mind your head
Do not smite it on the bed
Do not hit it on the boom
Give it lots of elbow-room
Cos your head will be ok
If you duck down out of the way
See the spray-hood, that’s so rough
It will take the skin right off
There’ll be pain and blood loss too
And husbands saying words like “pooh!”
Siddy dearest, mind the door
So there will be no more gore.
When this didn’t reduce the incidence of contusions, we made up some Mantras:
More crouch less ouch.
To flail is to wail (when getting dressed, don’t get your arms into your clothing by waving them around and hoping they poke out of the ends, because instead you will hit the point of your elbow on something hard).
PS while I was posting this Sid hit his head again, on the spray-hood again. We are not sure what the solution is going to be.
Bicyclist once did not wear helmets. Now, America’s Cup sailors do. Perhaps?…nah…
We have seriously contemplated it. For now, Sid is wearing his woolly hat whenever he moves around the boat, which at least gives some decorative strands of dark blue wool around the edges of the oozing sores.