15 / 08 After a night of rest and myself left behind the Gothic excesses of the previous days. I'm ready to restart. Destination tips (you write like that, Henry?), Silvia's birthday. As I had anticipated, by text message, instead of the usual dinner with friends in a coastal village, it will be, yes, a dinner with friends but by boat. Intimately are already terrified! We say that the boat and my stomach does not go quite agree. A demonstration of this thesis in the house I took a bath and I put the shower to avoid seasickness. So i start with the most optimistic hopes. Fetched the cup and Giulia and with the car loaded with more or less legal substances we start at a good pace. After less than an hours drive south about the height of San Miniato, a rocket with a beer in hand and I realize I do not understand già un cazzo. Ed il quel momento ho un'illuminazione. Per vincere il terrore della barca e la paura di vomitare, cercherò di restare il meno lucido possibile. Per tutto il viaggio ci riesc 
o egregiamente. Dopo un paio d'ore di macchina arriviamo in una cittadina sconosciuta che sospetto sia...non me lo ricordo. Pazienza! Comunque credo che fosse Follonica. Motivo della sosta: attendere l'arrivo della Vignolini , amica della Silvia, che non conosco. Decidiamo d'ingannare il tempo con birrini e aperitivi assortiti nei simpatici locali marittimi. Finalmente arriva e finalmente partiamo per la nostra metà finale, che scopro essere un'ameno distributore della Esso. Lì ci aspettano, oltre alla festeggiata and his better half, his brother Henry, Santini and his future wife Barbara. Reunited the partner had a loose port on the banks of Grosseto. After some logistical mistakes, like wrong pier, boat wrong, wrong state, etc., we find our personal Charon and his boat. Our skipper, a nice boy from Modena who read Mein Kampf, he tells me his name was originally Henry and Frederick, and then Simon. A clear case of multiple personality. Informs me, then, that on a boat there is no figure of the skipper. Or was it master or crew. So I decide to call him skipper. Finally there, the majestic setting sun, we sail anchor, heading towards the open sea. Omit the detail, that at the start, we have nearly run aground with the boats moored nearby. Launched, finally, on the sea with the wind in your hair, I must admit it's a heady feeling. It makes you feel really good. When we decide to change the supply of hydro 
llo going from sail to engine, is even more beautiful. Of course, unlike the marine propulsion, I try to constantly maintain a system of constant fattanza. I must admit that my previous lighting has hit the mark. I do not feel seasick, in fact I also feel good. Our skipper tries to make us take an active part in the maneuvers of the boat. While Henry and Cup move actively and intelligently, with experienced sailors do, I show all my failure at the first movement. It happens, then why engage when working already in three? Being too experienced on a boat can be fatal, as we shall see later. We will drop anchor in the middle of a cove , with the last rays of sun that warms us and the night comes and the soft roll of the boat, you are really ten. Congratulations and best wishes to the birthday girl for this great idea. Hard to believe but to Santini part, we are all fine. In fact, we eat to taste, his face, watching us very disgusted. We continue the evening with alcohol, drugs, rock'n'roll, cazzeggiano and social chatter. I crossed my initial fears and are forced to reconsider. Actually lying on pon 
you a boat at sea is really good. The starry sky and the swaying of the boat actually feels good. It seems to fluctuate. Maybe my brain is going a bit 'in baby food, given the excesses. But it is undeniable that the huge oil slick looking with the light breeze that passes by you I've tried some good feelings. Peace and abandonment. The party ends, but especially the hiring of the boat, so it's time to return. There is not much left now to tell. Apart from a small episode that shows some of my previous remarks. The first is that a boat is not always necessary to make a cock. The second is that sailors are born, not made in a single evening. I am referring to our good Franco. The latter, in an excess of zeal or excessive security, has tasted the depths, but especially the excessive cleaning of the waters of the port of Follonica. His was the unintended victim is Danielle who finished inside with him. It seems that the lineup has not governed, or it was badly hooked. Or a few billion assumptions later. The reality is that while the 'through, this' last sold. Splash! And all on the bottom. After a quick observation that there 
'were victims of their pride wounded sailor's Cup. I am sincerely given up the most laughs. Were fished out and dried again after a little presentable. Luckily for us, that diesel smell, mixed shit did not attack too. After a sushi offered at the port of tips, we come home, even rimbarcati. In fact, I, Henry, Julia and the Cup, we slept on barcadi Henry. Undone and undone now I'm preparing to sleep. The lullaby that brings me into the arms of Morpheus began: "Learn to swear with your computer. interactive course of oaths. "I realize that the week will be even more difficult .......
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