I was woken at about eight thirty yesterday by some of the crew counting down on deck. 5 - 4 - 3- 2 -1 - Wooo Hooo! For a fraction of a second the Latitude on the GPS read 00o00'00 - we caught it on camera at 00o00'68. We had crossed the equator, the first in the fleet, and were back in the Northern Hemisphere after spending nearly seven months on the other side of the World. Gabi and Giles were on watch at the time and Matt had asked to be woken for the official moment we crossed. At noon Neptune was summoned and he duly appeared from below decks. He has obviously been trying to keep up with fashions as his outfit had changed from the one he wore at his last appearance on our way to Buenos Aires. However, I think the latest fashion journals are taking their time to reach the depths of the Ocean as he looked rather 70s with his yellow and green plastic top and man-made fibre under shorts. He was still the spitting image of our skipper, David Melville but he looked as if he'd aged somewhat, as if the last seven months had taken their toll. He wasted no time in summoning the first of the Pollywogs, Gabi. Looking very sheepish she knelt before him to hear her crimes and be dealt her punishment. Being Brazilian and therefore too exotic, breaking the cafetiere, never going to sleep, sending to many e-mails and wearing a bikini on a training sail. A baying crowd of shellbacks booed most of her crimes though the bikini crime met with some votes for it - scrubbed and actively encouraged. The ever-accommodating ship's boy (Olly) stirred the rancid mix of leftover slops, which had been left to ferment over three days and smelt, we have on good authority, like a mixture of fermented milk and vomit. Three scoops and Gabi had paid her dues. Next up was Giles. The crew had requested more paper when listing his crimes but they included; sucking up to the BP bosses at every opportunity, telling his own boss he'd be gone for eight weeks and then disappearing for six months, wearing polyester shirts and shorts obviously several sizes too small to try and emphasize his muscles, impersonating a member of a boy band, and speaking in a quiet voice to get girls to lean closer. Five scoops, one that was placed strategically down said tight shorts proved the crime when every grain of rice, sweetcorn and meat substitute could be clearly seen through the material. Matt, trying to outwit Neptune appeared for his sentencing wearing full foulies. They were hastily removed for fear of angering Neptune and he knelt to hear his crimes. 'Being suspiciously good and therefore clearly up to something, wearing dodgy purple shorts and ballet shoes on deck and having a porn star name (Matt Cannon) - two scoops. The stench was all too much for one member of the crew and they ended up shouting 'Europe' from the rail. All was not over though. Earlier we'd seen Neptune whisper to Olly to save some slop for a final sentencing. All was revealed when Neptune himself knelt before us and stated that he was indeed our skipper and furthermore had a confession. Although he'd crossed the equator many times before he had hidden in a crane on his first crossing for fear of his head being shaved and his block and tackle painted primer red thus, he'd never been judged himself. Though it seemed woefully inadequate for such a crime the rest of the slop was dumped on his head.
The off watch retired below to enjoy a tot of Whisky to celebrate our crossing in first place. The whisky was a generous gift from our BP safety guru, Paul Everest who incidentally also supplied the Harley Davidson shades so favoured by those wishing to buck the trend of Oakleys amongst the new look sailing community.
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