Bob Fisher OPINION

Once we get past this peculiar time, our sport should brace for an influx of newcomers - as sailors we must be ready to welcome them on board

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I was, I have to admit, lucky in learning to sail the way I did in Brightlingsea – the hard way, but undoubtedly the best. I spent my earliest days at the water’s edge in company with my mate Reg White. We were unstoppable on a daily basis and lucky beyond belief to be able to have the access we did.

Reg’s father was an oyster merchant with premises on the foreshore next to the family hotel where I spent much of my time, and he had a spare rowing dinghy, which he was prepared to let us use. And use it we did, rowing around the moorings, looking at each of the boats we passed, and putting in many hours at the oars. There’s no substitute for time on the water for greater appreciation of life afloat.

After a while we noticed a circular hole in the forward thwart and beneath it a morticed oblong. It had been designed for a mast, so we set about searching for spars that would fit. Luckily, we gained access to the yards along the shore and discovered suitable spruce spars that we were allowed to take away.