Castaways Christmas Regatta & Dinner 2025 Event Report
- Maryn Wilkes
- Dec 11, 2025
- 5 min read
Written by Teodor Tiryaki
The Castaways Christmas Event began long before anyone stepped into a Firefly or ordered their first Guinness. Early planning kicked off in August, when the committee pencilled in 6th December for a full day of sailing hosted by Imperial at Queen Mary Sailing Club (QM). The racing was to be followed by a black-tie dinner at The Hand & Flower, a cosy Kensington pub with just enough space to squeeze in 50–60 dangerously enthusiastic alumni and students.
Friday Night: Tactical Discussions (in Theory)
The weekend unofficially began on Friday evening with Teo and Tom’s “umpire briefing”, which - predictably - took place in the mythical William Morris Wetherspoons in Hammersmith. For reasons unknown to man, it stayed open until 2:30am, and even more mysteriously, both umpires stayed until it closed.
Despite their intentions, not much actual umpiring discussion happened. Numerous pints of Guinness were consumed, however. The pair went home both absolutely binned and deeply reflective about their life choices, as every great race officer should be before a major regatta.
Saturday Morning: The Only Car That Arrived on Time
Registration was scheduled for 08:30, briefing for 09:00, and the first warning signal for 09:57. In reality, Teo’s car - carrying Tom and Charlie - was the only one that actually arrived at QM on time. The others slowly trickled in with the usual “sorry lads, traffic” excuses. Meanwhile, Charlie was frantically rebuilding the entire sailing schedule thanks to a wave of last-minute dropouts. Spirits remained high though, largely fuelled by questionable jokes and the three cigarettes Teo had inhaled before even stepping onto a powerboat.
The race committee - Tom, Teo and Charlie - headed out to lay what would ultimately become a port-rounding box course, chosen primarily for its volunteer-efficient nature. Conditions out on the water were already spicy, with the forecast reading 25 gusting 30 knots. While the committee tried to get the course in place, the rest of the fleet was told to rig boats (slowly). The briefing was pushed to 09:30, though rigging still hadn’t been finished by then. Lilli, Imperial’s Commodore, panicked upon seeing Teo approach.
“Teo, you’re late for your OWN briefing!”
“Half the fleet hasn’t even rigged yet,” replied Teo, probably lighting another cigarette.
The briefing - short, chaotic, and dominated by questions about “why on earth are we using this course” - wrapped up with minimal improvement in anyone’s understanding. The race committee returned to the water to finish setting marks while Charlie continued adjusting the running order like a man defusing a bomb.
After extended faff, racing finally started at 11:15. The wind remained lively, offering a proper test of boat handling and occasionally testing people’s balance, dignity, and rudder pins. Across the day we managed to squeeze in 15 races, despite:
2 bent/broken rudder pins (big thanks to Henry Hollingworth for doing the necessary fixes on these)
1 completely lost rudder stock
multiple capsizes
one helm narrowly avoiding a concussion
The pre-start battles were electric, although the actual on-course action was more subdued (heavy wind does that). Still, spirits were high, and chaos levels remained perfectly Christmassy.
Special shoutout to Charlie, who ran the start boat impeccably alongside Hannah, a legendary last-minute volunteer from UCL whose contribution genuinely saved the day.
Some photo's of the racing can be found below:
Racing Called Off & Back to London
After a brief debate about whether to squeeze in one more flight or preserve what remained of the Firefly fleet, racing was sensibly called off around 14:15. Boats were packed away, broken parts mourned, and the fleet dispersed back to London to transform from soggy sailors into elegant black-tie dinner attendees.
As is customary in the sailing world, the Castaways committee made a comfortably late entrance to dinner, which was scheduled for a 19:00 start. Teo - ever the exemplary Commodore - arrived closer to 19:30, accompanied by a lively group of Imperial sailors who had responsibly warmed up with a couple of cans of Fosters on the way.
Upon arrival, Teo and Tom had a quick organisational chat with Jazz, the pub’s club manager and an absolute legend. Jazz handed out two immaculate pints of Guinness, delivered a run-down of the evening plan, and then equipped the pair with two microphones. His only instruction:
“Whatever you do, don’t give them to that dodgy short man”, likely referring to Sam Walker. A reasonable precaution.
Seating, Announcements, and a Shoey to Remember
Once a few more drinks had been consumed, Tom used the pub’s wonderfully underpowered PA system to call everyone to their seats. After several attempts, the room eventually settled enough for results to be announced. The winners of the regatta were crowned:
🥇 Imogen Salmon (Imperial – Helm)
🥇 Sam Walker (Castaways – Crew)
This was followed by a pint-downing race between the champions, which Imogen won decisively. Justice was then served in the traditional manner: Sam was instructed to perform a shoey, to the absolute horror of the pub staff, whose facial expressions alone could have earned Ofcom complaints.
Dinner rolled on in classic Castaways fashion:
The university Commodores gave speeches
The Social Secretaries presented some deeply unserious prizes
Secret Santa gifts were exchanged (with varying levels of appropriateness)
Tom cracked jokes on the microphone
Sam performed an unexpected karaoke remix of "Barking" by Ramz
And someone - identity still unknown - stood up and solemnly read the Southern Shipping Forecast
Between courses, an increasing number of cigarettes were consumed outside as people rotated between fresh air, laughter, and asking each other how their boats managed to break this time.
The Embargo’s Saga
After dinner, with Tom and Teo now fully best mates with Jazz the manager, the group started making their way towards Embargo’s, the designated venue for some post-dinner dancing. It was a 21+ night, but Tom reassured everyone that he had “sorted it with management” and that “age won’t be a problem.” As it turned out, age was very much a problem.
Half the group made it to the door; Tom and Teo stayed behind at the pub to shepherd the rest. Midway through their heroic rallying efforts, they received the tragic news that Embargo’s would not be allowing anyone under 21 inside, despite having created a special ticket link and having taken our money. Tom entered a passionate exchange with the club manager/owner, who repeatedly said he would “sort it.” He did not sort it.
With the night derailed and spirits still high, Tom and Teo rerouted the mission and ended up at The Swan in Stockwell, where Teo spent a respectable portion of the evening explaining to a 28-year-old woman the pros and cons of Botox and hyaluronic acid fillers. As one does after a long day of sailing, shoeys, and karaoke.
