A gentle start and sedate rhythm saw me testing my injury and remaining 1/2l down from the staggered start. Clearly this was not to be tolerated, so a spectacular 10 stroke burst at 300m in saw me raise the rate by at least 10 pips and cruise past a floundering gaylord. Despite a return to quiching I was left with a respectable win from just a few strokes of actual effort. (Rose the Twat)
Having forgotten to square one of my blades, my 1/2l outside station advantage was quickly turned around into a 2/3l deficit. This was the situation for the first 150m, until I decided a push might be in order, which closed the gap to 1/3l. Some confusion over the bank steering and proximity of a New Hall VIII meant I stopped for a stroke and went back to 2/3l. At this point the competition took a slight downturn as it became clear that neither party wanted to have to attempt swapping the blades over and were thus getting slower and slower. This seemed a slightly sorry state of affairs, but thankfully we both realised that I could just change the rules instead (and wait until it was sunny) so we sprinted for the line over the last 100m. I won (just). (Rose the Twat)
How come RTT gets to win his own regatta? Surely should be against the rules! (Dubya)
As there was no start umpire we made a gentlemen's agreement to paddle up the course until we found one. The salad eating gayboy appeared after about 300m, so we decided to start. After 3 strokes I had taken a length and so I took it down to light. There was some confusion as to the location of the finish line, which ended with both scullers drifting the last 20m of the course, during which my opposition pulled back a length. (JPD)
Feeling quite good with the strokeside blade, but very strange things happening on bowside, my quarter-slide feathered start didn't give me the best first couple, and just as I got up to speed the bank started coming rapidly towards me. Perhaps little more practice next time...? (Jon)
Rosie had a bad start which saw me take about a length. Despite some dubious sculling (at least in part caused by the exotic but generally unpopular practice of negative bow side pitch), I absorbed his push and then moved to about 2/3 length ahead. At this point Rosie had moved significantly into my lane, but I was warned. I shouted in protest, at which point the large-buttocked one stopped sculling thinking he was about to crash. Soon after, I realised that I was going to win, which would have meant swapping the blades. As the race slowed to a snail's pace, the Pembroke-enchanted idiot sculled past me and, after a 6-stroke dash for the line, beat me by a Boatrace worthy 8 inches. (JPD)
I made a spacked but not disastrous start and was surprised to see myself hold or even move a little away from the Twat. This continued for a minute or so before my technique began to suffer at the moderately high rating I at which I was. At about the same time, Rampant Rose pushed and my counter-push saw my boat speed plummet. I turned round to see an imminent bank-collision and a distant Dwad so decided to wind down and we both paddled light up to the line. (Ingers)
Glass had knackered his shoulder so withdrew from the final. I did my start (as ever, it was much better than the one in the prior race) but then paddled light over the course watching in amusement as RTT and Gaypers tried to take out a New Hall VIII. (Ingers)
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