Walking through a town square littered with jet fighters gives one a strange, if completely strange sense of security. One almost hopes that someone would jump out waving a knife about, just so that one could teach them a lesson.
For us of course the lessons were not to be in the finer points of Jet Fighter pilotage, but in a rather heavier although no less intimidating ship altogether. Eighty tonnes heavier to be precise. How, we wondered as we approached the good ship Freisland for the first time, would we survive the week let alone remember all the things we needed to remember for the examination on inland pilotage?
The butterflies in our stomachs were truly of Jet Fighter proportions.
Thankfully Tam and Di's reputation is well deserved, and they immediately set about calming our fraying dispositions, watching on nonplussed, ready to gently assume control of their ship and home should any of us through inexperience or simply nervousness place it in a position of danger.
Thankfully Di knows a thing or two about lunching as well, and that a superbly simple selection of local fare, beside a grassy bank in a quiet stretch of canal is enough to leave even the most flustered student ready to take on the world.
We departed the ship reluctantly at days end full of enthusiasm to learn more, filled with concern at the test we must complete on the morrow.
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