Pierre is French. He used to work on oil rigs. There are mutterings of the Foreign Legion. That’s all I know of his history.
Nowadays Pierre lives in Thailand with less than the normal number of teeth and no money. During his waking hours he lives at the windsurfing club, waiting for the wind. His equipment is a scruffy collection of hand-downs and stuff he found in ditches. He is endlessly repairing, or wielding paint brushes to add some colour to his motley hoard of windsurfing gear. He is always cheerful, even though his sailing outings usually result in the collapse of some part of his antique equipment; thus requiring more patching and paint brushing.
His constant vigil on the beach means that when there is any wind at all, he is out on the water. Personally, I have better things to do than sit on a beach all day waiting for the wind; things like slumping in a chair in an airconditioned room playing with a computer. Consequently, while Pierre is out sailing on a passing breath of wind, improving his technique and getting fit; I am not.
But when a decent period of wind arrived this Saturday, I was prised from my mouse and headed for the beach. Pierre had already been out for hours, and continued to sail till the wind died. I managed an hour or so before being totally knackered. The totally knackered phase was followed by cramps and the need for a good lie-down. Two days on and I still have muscle pains. Pathetic.
Meanwhile, Pierre will be at the beach waiting for some more wind, and I am sat here writing this.
Pierre: Respect.
Comments 🔗
2009-05-06| Billy saysHe cerainly has the look of man who has discovered the secret behind finding contentment -and the fact that it hardly involves any spreadsheets at all .. or owning things that can go down as well as up, other than a surfboard that is …