For most of us Sunday morning exudes an invitation to sleep late, rise bleary-eyed and unashamedly drift into our roast potatoes, Yorkshire puds and veggies through a gallon or two of coffee and perhaps a slice

or two of toast, or, for the more devout, Sunday naturally invokes pretty dresses, hats, suits and ties and sharing words and music with our Maker; but for a strange diverse bunch of our community Sunday mornings demand an early rising, a swift drive into the hills, a frantic change into fleeces, rubber, pvc, balaclavas and mittens and another battle against the elements. For these people are the dedicated (some might say demented) members of Wimbleball Sailing Club. 

No matter what the weather they will be there. This trusty band of men and women, rain-repellent wrapped and frosty-finger filled, know nothing of can't

and shouldn't. Their language is only of trying and doing and when nature flips them sideways or tips them end on end they shake off their doubtless ducking, swing their vessel head to wind and set their sails again. For Sunday is race day. Race days are fun days. Or trying days. Or challenge days and earnest days. They're learning days. To win, for some, is everything. For most it's the taking part. The stealing of tips and strategies and sharing stories of markers missed or capsize catastrophes, of ducking and duties, of gybes and jibs, of frozen sheets and fallen shrouds and hot coffee and cakes in the clubhouse.

But there's more to it than that. For there are spring days and summer days. There are evenings when swallows pitch and roll across the lake and families fill the banks with picnic baskets and barbecues and nights of celebration at Christmas , New Year and Presentation Time. There are champions who have competed against the very best in the land and won, their homes heaving with cups and trophies and there are the many, like me, the writer, who shrink-wrap their boats in winter and wait, longingly, for heat-hazes and wistful winds that wage no war against me.

Fortunately there is room for us all at Wimbleball Sailing Club. And Tim Moss, our Secretary, is always delighted to explain to anyone how they might learn to both sail and race. For the most part he can be contacted on Bridgwater 652146 or be seen with the rest of the gang on Sunday mornings tacking, gybing, running and sometimes swimming at Wimbleball Sailing Club.

Viv