What became of standards at the oldest yacht club in the world? Founded in 1720, the Royal Cork Yacht Club boasted a fine membership of men until the rules were changed to allow ladies to stay overnight in the premises. Tch. "Henceforth let it be known that members may lie with the members' wives," Anthony O'Leary, admiral of the club, quotes the rulebook, which was changed to accommodate females in 1803. Ladies have been present in the RCYC ever since. And as for today's male and female members, well, they don't even salute or stand to attention when the admiral walks by. In fact, they chat. It's all very casual. And he's wearing rust-coloured trousers under a navy jacket, with not a bit of gold braid nor a peaked cap in sight. As the sailors unwind before a week of racing at Ford Cork Week 2000, Admiral O'Leary is set to host a small dinner to mark the official opening of the international sporting event. The guests mingle on the roof of the Admiral's Bar before going in.
Below us lie up to 700 yachts, all berthed in the harbour for the night, tinkling and jangling in rows along the jetties. Ah, me hearties, 'tis a pleasing sight. The admiral's wife, Sally O'Leary, joins Corkman Clayton Love, chairman of the event's organising committee. As the sun sinks in the west, he looks out at the vista as Captain Bligh must have stood, on the bridge of The Bounty, scanning the horizon. Canadian Paul Henderson, president of the International Sailing Federation, has just flown in from Singapore. "The smaller the boat, the better the sailor," he tells us. "The sailor's perfect day - two races, a spell in the bar and then to fall in love." Mmmmmm. Heading for the disco later is the crew of Cezanne, a 25-foot yacht from Wessex - Chris Fox and his sister, Ginny Fox, Hugo Fisher and Barnie Hartley. The men from Ford are here also with their wives: Dave and Barbara O'Driscoll; George and Colette Kenny (who fell in love in Ford's in 1978); Pat and Gerardine Brazil and Denis and Ide McSweeney. The president of the Irish Sailing Assocation, Paddy Maguire, a chartered accountant from Dublin, is steeling himself to race "all the way through to next Friday" with up to 60 boats in the Sigma 33 class. Floating up on the evening air is the music of Champagne Cork, a ladies' barbershop choir, under the direction of Clare Hunt, who keeps a weather eye on singer Norma O'Shea, the choir's unofficial press officer.
Up on the roof, the sailors are looking up at the red sky. The forecast is for good weather. They're delighted, of course. Six miles out beyond Robert's Head and Power Head are "the safest sailing waters you'll find anywhere", says the admiral. They're planning on plain sailing, but they're still hoping for a breeze . . .