I'm finished!" That's how Michi looks too. Drenched in sweat, but happy. "The 'cucumber' looks newer than new." That's true. It always looks like new, by the way. Michi loves his "Gurke" more than anything. After every trip, the anchor locker is opened up so that everything dries and all you can see for several hours is his bum as he crawls around on the "Gurke" and polishes it like there's no tomorrow. Michi has rags and brushes in every size and made of every material, and while he's scurrying about, he talks to the "cucumber". "Did you hurt yourself?", he likes to ask his ship, before rubbing away a wafer-thin stain with some space-tested ceramic polish.
Yes, Michi is his own man.
I gave him a present to say goodbye. But it's supposed to be a surprise, so I'm not saying anything yet. The first viewing appointments are already planned for tomorrow. The new boat will have 45 feet. "We want to take the grandchildren with us," was the reason given. "Claudi would also like to shower on board." - "You do have a shower," I said in response to this information. "Yes, but all that limescale," was the reply. "Besides, it's going to get messy, and apart from that, I store the cleaning products there." I had forgotten all about that.
"Phew, give me a beer please!" I dutifully shuffle back to the "old lady" and get what I want. Meanwhile, my husband and Michi are already sitting in the cockpit. "I've got shoe covers for tomorrow, you never know if someone has stepped in seagull poo before. It's bad for the boats, the stuff is very acidic. I'm not going to polish my intervertebral discs so that the creatures destroy my surfaces with their dirt.
These are protein decomposition products that can attack the paintwork."
That's him, our Michi.
The next morning at nine sharp, he stands on the jetty like a sergeant, and the first candidate arrives. A Mr Schneider-Zilinski with his wife. "General in the Bundeswehr," we were informed.
"Anyone is daft if they don't buy the 'cucumber'," my husband says to me and pours himself a coffee. We sit in the cockpit and listen intently. "If you're looking for scratches, you won't find any," we hear Michi say proudly, while Claudi scurries around offering the Schneider-Zilinskis coffee and sandwiches.
"How old did you say the boat was?" asks the general. "Not that I'm on the wrong boat here, har, har." - "Thirteen years." Michi's voice threatens to crack with euphoria. "That can't be true. You wrote: 'Good, well-kept condition'. That's not a good condition! This ship is new! Are you kidding me? Can I have a look in the forecastle? ...It's all tidy! Ha! And the other locker is full of original spare parts. And how the lines are shot up, and so clean!"
Michi is almost bursting with exuberance. "I wash them regularly with a special detergent. As for the baking crates, I maintain them every month." - "You maintain the baking boxes?" asks Mrs General shyly.
I have a special cream and then I also apply a lotion."
"Like at the beautician's," breathes Mrs General, and Michi smiles flattered.
"Can I see the mainsail?" - "Of course, I have to say that it has almost no kinks because I have developed a special system so that it doesn't hurt too much when furled." He pulls up the sail. "If you say again that it's thirteen years old, then..." - "No, the sails are older. I bought them second-hand. Carbon fibre." Now they go downstairs.
We, in turn, make our way onto the jetty and take a leisurely stroll around it, only to stop in front of the "Gurke" (cucumber) by chance. "Everything is clean here!" Mrs Schneider-Zilinski is almost breathless. "And the sink ..." - "... is cleaned after every rinse with a paste I developed to make it shine beautifully." Claudi opens a cupboard. "The outside of our cups and pots are rubbed with an ointment to give them a nice shine."
And each item has its own felt bag so that nothing scratches or rubs. Doesn't that look nice?"
No answer. The general is probably looking for his cash. You can't afford to miss out on this bargain.
"So ...", comes the reply. "I'm really sorry, but this ship is out of the question for us. It's just ... too well maintained." Excuse me? We stop in horror. "Excuse me?" asks Michi in disbelief. "We could never maintain it like this. That would be unfair to the ship. Ships have a soul." - "But..."
Michi is at a loss.
"No offence." The general and his wife trudge off.
"Can you believe that? Too well-groomed?" Michi is beside himself. "That's like saying, no, I won't take that woman, she's too good-looking." He stands there looking at us, bewildered. "I've got another surprise for you," I say to please him, but he and Claudi just turn round and leave.
Lutz zu Philippsburg is at the start an hour later, a guy who thinks he's incredibly smart and irresistible. Lutz's teeth are so whitened that you could easily use them as a torch at night. "It's not true!" is his favourite phrase, and he informs us all that he is related to the Windsors through 58 corners. "It's not true, there's not a speck of dust here!" says Lutz in awe. "Has the cooker ever been used?" - "Every day during the season." Michi's euphoria is dampened by the general. He only provides factual information. "There, the upholstery - not a stain. How is that possible? That's not true ..." - "You can take them off and wash them," says Michi in an "I don't care" voice, and now I intervene because I want the "cucumber" to be sold. "He has self-developed pastes and polishes for everything," I let Lutz know. "That's not true! You don't even want to sit down. I have three dogs. You hardly dare let them down here. Nah, nah, that's not for me." He's gone, and now even I'm worried. If it goes on like this, I'm worried about the planned 45 feet. We sit down.
Then Michi gets up.
Two more candidates are coming later. They can experience something."
He goes downstairs to the bathroom and comes back with engine oil, which he pours onto the winches. My husband gasps. "Here, please, and here, and here, and here." Claudi's nail polish remover is spread on the sprayhood, then he goes downstairs and we hear him fiddling with the fridge. "There you go, there you go." He has slapped potato salad on the induction hob and now sets it to 1,600 watts. "So that it smells good too." Ketchup is poured over the cushions and something else everywhere else. Finally, he opens a packet of oatmeal, mixes it with penetrating oil and smears it on his face. He is delirious.
"Hellouuuuuu," comes from above. A woman sticks her head through the companionway. "Is this the 'cucumber'?" She looks a little scared. "Yes, of course it is. Oh...", now I know who it is. Oh no, oh no. It's the photographer for the magazine competition for the best-kept yacht of the year. My surprise for Michi! "I mean ... no." You can rely on my husband. "What are you talking about? Of course it's the 'Gurke'!" - "That's really strange! It was advertised in our sailing magazine saying that this was the best-kept Hanse under the sun and that first place was as good as guaranteed. Judging by the photos we were sent, that's exactly what it looked like. Hmm. Now on site, I find the ship rather neglected. I'm sorry, I can't take you on board."
"The 'second-hand boat of the year'?" whispers Michi, and I bite my lower lip. "That's my dream, to win that." I know. "Yes, everyone dreams of it, but like this..." The young woman nods at us and leaves.
"Was that your surprise?" he asks me hoarsely. I nod. "As a kind of finale. Now don't be sad ... you just develop a special cleansing milk for all this and we'll help you where we can. Then we'll try again next year." This lifts my spirits and the oil and oatmeal mixture beams at me. "Maybe something with a special French soap. But then I won't sell the 'cucumber'. She told me she doesn't want it anyway." And then he pats the steps of the companionway.
