Taki and John-Taki Theodoracopulos

After a riotous lunch at Club 55 hosted by our commodore, president Nick Scott and I retired to my boat where the two of us proceeded to knock off a couple of bottles of chilled delicious rose wine, and then it was my turn to give dinner, one that was fortunately on the quae, which made it easier for my son, fresh from Paris, to carry me across and put me to bed.  

Race day broke bright and sunny with a wind of about twelve knots, perfect for racing, which began as the gun went off the Talitha at exactly 12 o’clock. Last off the line I soon passed the other three and noticed that Alexia was heading for Corsica, where last year’s race took place. (She has a square rig, and sailing upwind is not her strong point. Adding to her misery was Tim Hoare’s disastrous decision to demote his chief naval strategist, Sir Bob Geldof, to kitchen duty, hence her Corsican journey.)

We flew upwind at about 12 knots, reached the midpoint jibing and tacking, and headed downwind where we reached 14 knots. Once again we then turned 180 degrees and headed upwind crossing Skylark, which was speeding along like an Italian tank in retreat on her way to victory. Tiger Lily came in second, and when I finished after three hours and twenty minutes we just managed to nip Alexia that had made her way back from Corsica and was happily cruising along at three knots with a party going on rather strongly on her beautiful teak deck.

We then all gathered on Mark Getty’s Talitha, the mother ship, for the award ceremony. Tara Getty accepted the first prize with grace, and then something happened that had me close to tears. Prince Pavlos of Greece, an experienced sailor—as well he should be with his father the King a gold medal Olympic winner in 1960—had gone out very early that morning and bought a beautiful silver clock and had it engraved for poor little me. The president said it was for sportsmanship in having accepted the handicap I was given. I thanked everyone, especially Prince Pavlos for his kindness, took the clock, and went to bed. I’ve been sleeping it off ever since. There’s always next year, especially if the liver holds out.