The saga of the lost long-sleeve

Now I am particular about my kit. I always keep *really* close tabs on it at regattas and that (especially if it has "Cambridge" written on it....) because the last thing I want is for someone to pinch it. I also have a high level of appreciation for bad taste in kit. Namely blue boat leggings, which are quite possibly the best thing Stitch have ever been asked to make. They pretty much fluoresce and attract envious looks whenever I wear them.

We <3 our new leggings

But that is another story. So, given my love of all things JL and kit shaped, I was rather upset when I lost a long sleeve a few weeks back. (It was one of those nice sorta fleecy ones that are made of awesome). Now, this was a pretty well loved piece of kit (and by "well loved" I mean it had gone slightly bobbily in the washing machine and had bike oil stains on it :-s) so I was certain no one would want to steal it.

So I searched.

Have you ever tried to get your hand in one of those kit holes? I almost took my arm off!

Because I've obviously misplaced it UNDER A ROCK

Gotta watch those squirrels. They're omnipresent and evil.

Shouting always helps. As does swearing.

 I eventually resigned myself to having lost it. I was SAD. Fast forward 2 weeks.

~~~~~WAVY LINES~~~~~

I make the exciting decision to empty the bin in my room. But lo? What is this in a sealed Tesco bag next to by bin, cunningly disguised as rubbish?

OHMYGODNONONONO.

You guessed it.

It had been there in my room all along. Basically fermenting. All boaties have left wet kit in a plastic bag before, whether accidentally or out of bone-idleness. You can imagine what this was like to find: Is that moving? OH GOD. I swear it just moved. Shall I call pest control? Environmental health? The council? OHGODOHGODOHGOD.

In hindsight, I should have donated it to science or something:

Instead, I did the obvious thing and soaked it in chemicals for many, many hours days.

Eyes watering... must... keep... running.....

I burned the stick afterwards.

You will no doubt be overjoyed to know that it did get clean. Eventually. Very eventually. To this day, the only piece of kit I've ever lost was the one I semi-destroyed anyway falling off my bike (You shouldn't cycle to Ely in the snow on a fixie when it's below freezing, using aerobars unless you want scars/loss of limbs/death. I should so publish useful cycling tips like these...)

Me looking unintentionaly smug with my stupidity scar (looks better when I get a tan).  That t shirt makes me happy too. It is impossible to not make this :-D  face all the time while wearing it. I also own this for when I'm in not such a good mood.  Slow pedestrians die when I wear that t shirt.

EDIT That doesn't look anywhere near impressive enough. Try this for size instead:

MUCH BETTER.

EDIT EDIT This is what my leg looked like when I got to Ely, thanks to the wonder of iPhones:

I reiterate. DON'T CYCLE IN THE FUCKING SNOW.

I then went seatracing in what I distinctly remember was hail. Or supercompacted snow fired out of a cannon. With like a 30mph headwind. AND THEN THE RACES DIDN'T EVEN COUNT. And then I got shouted at for "ruining all the seatracing", presumably because my arm had a bandage on made from blue paper towels and gaffer tape (applied by my 6th year medic cox). That was a fun day. I probably went home and had a little cry. (This hopefully goes someway to explaining why CUWBC had t-shirts made that said "At least I'm not in Ely" on them...)

BUT ANYWAY. The only piece of kit I've ever lost etc.

And it's not so much "lost" as "unobtainable", where "unobtainable" = at the bottom of the Thames in Henley. Because I *may* have crashed into the island during a pre-paddle at HWR and capsized. To be honest, I was too busy crying with relief that I hadn't lost my Oakleys to care about the long-sleeve very much. Oh, and I was also dying of embarassment at the time, obviously. I was fished out by a roaming 4+. The shame. THE SHAME! *represses memory* But anyway. I rejoiced that my prodigal long sleeve was now in a wearable state again and employed a minstrel to follow me round and tell everyone of the great deed.

Sorry,  I didn't know how else to end the post. This made more sense in my head.