On Golden Pond

GB gold at last! Shirley Robertson's Yngling crew clinched gold with a race to spare.

I have no idea what a Yngling is. A small green man from planet Yng, or a herbal tea that aids digestion.

But who cares? Shirley is Scottish and here at the Palace of Scotch Sport my colleagues have something to rejoice about. Everyone is smiling. Well done ladies!

I caught a bit of the sailing in my lunchbreak, and discovered a whole new level of snoredom. It is hard to make a televisual spectacle out of a bunch of yachts slowly lurching their way around some coloured blobs. The BBC has sent Suzi Perry along in an attempt to add some sauciness to the reportage, I mentioned her in the last post - she is the veritable vixen who gets down trackside during during the MotoGP. But motorbikes are sexy on telly, sailboats not so much. Even Sexy Suze is struggling with the material.

I watched a bit of footage from this morning's races, and noticed that the sailing commentator seems to be channeling Sir David Attenborough. There's all those long... pauses and whispered... tones that you usually find in wildlife documentaries. The Italians... are in the lead... and now... here comes... The British... and don't forget... the Jap... anese.

I can't watch the sailing without expecting to see one yacht try to eat another, or else issue some sort of... primitive... mating... call.