From stories of cruises that I have enjoyed in the Bulletins, I get the impression that some of us live 'rough' while aboard. If necessary, I too can live 'rough' but I see no virtue in denying any comfort to be had within the limitations of a dinghy; nothing superfluous, simplicity must be the keynote. My three quarter decked dinghy has a mizzen so I have to carry no crutches to support the boom over which I throw a canvas cover. The cover extends over the well and side decks leaving a little deck fore and aft on which I can squat and admire a sunset after dinner or dry myself after a morning swim.

Extending the cover to full beam not only gives more elbow room but makes the side decks available for shelves, invaluable when clearing the boards to find room to sleep. I have eyes along the ridge of the cover so that the boom can be left outside should the mainsail be dripping wet. Usually I wrap the cloth, and mainsheet round the boom, bend a cord about the middle and wear the cover over the top. No doubt a cover on hoops like a camping skiff gives the greatest comfort but I will not carry the hoops; when finance permits, the possibilities of pneumatic hoops will be investigated.

My cover is dark green but when I buy another it will be a lighter colour because I would like it to be brighter inside, especially when the dawn brings rain and I stay below until the eighteen hundreds forecast. On one occasion, my crew polished every piece of brass inside until all were suitable for shaving! When sailing in fair weather, the cover is folded to the size of the after thwart - perhaps a handy marker for a man overboard. In unsettled weather, I have left the cover laced to one side draped over the side deck and into the boat; under this can be tucked the radio and other gear I prefer to protect, including me if there is a lot of rain at a time when the tiller can be left.

There are two thwarts in my dinghy and the one under the tiller I have made removable; this gives more room for beds and the thwart makes a firm table when fitted across the side deck. When first considering sleeping aboard, the slope of the floor towards the keel was a concern, but in fact, this only tips me against the plate case which I find surprisingly comfortable. Since I can no longer enjoy sleeping on boards, I have tried several suitable softeners. The most obvious is the airbed and I recommend this to anyone who can sleep on one, for surely it must be the most convenient in a small space. For me, they are either too full and I roll about or too soft and I feel the boards; I can never get one just right. If a thin mattress could be found about eighteen inches wide and long enough to extend from the armpits to just below the hips, it would be ideal but how to store it is the problem.

When aboard for about two days, I notice the hardness of mahogany so I have decided to indulge in a cushion to live on the after thwart under the cover. This cushion come mattress must have a waterproof cover, for a squelching bed isn't my idea of 'living'. It could also do with handles on the side for a life buoy and I favour a foam rubber interior.

As an alternative, I have considered a hammock but I am afraid the ends of my dinghy might come together under the strain. I also carry a blanket wrapped in an old oilskin primarily for first aid against shock. When folded to the size of the miniature mattress, it also makes a good bed from which my daughter has been heard to snore peacefully, but age must be relevant to beds because my six-year-old son spends ten hours on the bare boards without raising an eyelid!

For my bed, which I have carried on my back, my bicycle and in a canoe, I insist there is no substitute for real down. I still have the bag my mother made for me when I was a scout. It contains two pounds of down, then twenty shillings a pound. Recently, I have bought a down- filled sleeping suit, ex-Government stock, which is also excellent. A half inflated Mae West serves for a pillow and I need an alarm clock if I am to catch an early tide. Incidentally, an alarm is very useful for catching weather forecasts, if one can be acquired, which is small and will put up with the conditions. If the bedding could be stuffed into the flotation bags, its weight would have little effect on their buoyancy and bulk would disappear. For the storage of such light but bulky items, I think there is a case for rigid tanks with waterproof hatches but I cannot think how to make them. My substitute is a pair of small rubberised kit bags, ex-Government, one of which holds my bedding and spare clothes, which is then slid, open end first, into the second bag. Force is needed to remove the air, which gets trapped inside. Although I have never had to prove it, I am sure it would give many pounds of buoyancy for several hours.

In my dinghy there is room for two of these bundles under the centre thwart, one each side of the case, and a cord holding them clear of the floor boards increases the air tightness and secures them to the boat for flotation. A glass of ale or tea and a bun is my limit for on shore eating. All my main meals are aboard and, apart from stores, I cruise independently. When I am attracted to a quaint old hotel, it is my budget that sends me back to the dinghy.

Paraffin is my source of heat; a spirit stove is not good enough and, although bottle gas can now be had in small containers, I am not sure that I could obtain a refill in Newtown Creek, but paraffin is always available. If I carried an outboard, a petrol stove would be preferable because it would avoid carrying both paraffin and petrol. My galley is made from two aluminium boxes each having three sides and a bottom. When one is inverted, it nests into the other and forms a closed box for a primus and a can of spirit. The boxes are made so that, standing on top of each other, their sides interlock and in this way a tall box with a top, bottom and three sides can be made. Two removable rods fit across the box a little below the top to form a rack for warming plates and keeping bacon hot while the eggs are frying. Between the rack and the primus is space for the largest utensil. The tall box also shelters the stove, reduces the danger from a flare up and provides a warm surface on which to dry a towel.

My most important piece of galley equipment is a small pressure cooker, invaluable if serious eating is to be considered. In half an hour it will fix you a wonderful stew or, if you are frying a steak, it will not only cook you an appetising dish of fresh vegetables but will warm a tin of soup or pudding and keep it all piping hot whilst the meat is fried. When the main dish is served, the pressure cooker without lid heats the water for washing up and later becomes the bowl as well. When stowed, a cap over the vent makes it buoyant so that its weight would not be a liability in an emergency.

Apart from the inevitable frying pan my other utensil is an aluminium teapot. This is used for boiling water for shaving and for instant coffee as well as making tea, the leaves being thrown in on the boiling water. I do not claim this improves my shaving but admit that it affects the coffee. I would like to use ground coffee but a common pot for this is hopeless; perhaps instant tea is the solution.

If strategically positioned, the cook can perform his duties, enjoy his own meal and wash up without moving his seat. In my dinghy it is a rule that the stove goes one side of the centreboard case and legs the other, the possibility of scalding water is too real. I carry a high utility plastic beaker per head. With a little warm detergent water handy it is used for soup, wine, sweet, coffee and a nip of brandy at one sitting. In the morning it may see tea, shaving water and the underside of half a grapefruit, a wonderful piece of multipurpose equipment. For a larder I have a box, without a lid, which slides under the after thwart. It has rope handles and a watertight bottom that I kid myself will look after its own load in a swamped boat. In the larder are tins or preferably aluminium containers about as high as the box. These form dividers between rashers and detergent, bread and ripe tomatoes. The whole thing can be victualled before leaving home and all can be removed for a big clean up after each trip.

Across the bulkhead of my stern locker I have a cord in eyelets arranged to keep upright odd bottles, beer cans and thermos flasks handy for a pre-heated mug of soup or to keep milk fresh and cold. With luck, when the after thwart is in the table position, all ingredients for a meal are visible and fumbling reduced to a minimum. For water I have a one gallon rigid plastic bottle although I am not sure that a strong plastic bag used like a mediaeval goat skin might not be easier to stow. If a snatched meal is anticipated, a piece of boiled bacon or a tin of salmon makes a good sandwich, better still with a lettuce leaf. In an emergency there is always cheese, apples and a can of beer, the empties being stowed with other garbage until disposed of tidily. In a disaster there is chocolate in my Mae West. About every twelve hours eating should be taken seriously with plenty of fruit and meat with a little wine if you are indulged that way. One day I may grow tired of grapefruit, eggs, bacon and tomatoes, Ryvita with marmalade and a pot of tea, but it has not happened yet.

Variety at supper depends on the number of days out from the last butcher. I prefer my steaks grilled but never object to one from the pan after a good day's sailing. From the pressure cooker come appetising stews even when tinned beef is a necessity. If fresh meat is available then fry it quickly both sides before it goes in the pot. Small tins are the best source for sweets although dried fruit is very useful and easy to carry if the soaking problem can be overcome with a screw top container. A half eaten melon can be stowed in a plastic bag and is a favourite of my crew.

If I could afford an Atalanta, I would give up dinghy cruising although I am not sure it would be more enjoyable. I am sure that, while there are sheltered moorings, I would not go back to a tent, In fact, each time I see a field beyond the mud, I sing: “I wouldn't leave my little wooden boat for you!”