Dear Editor, I have been involved with or hanging around lifeboats since 1946 and have a fundraising silver badge.

The feature 'Lifeboating - an education' in the spring issue of the Lifeboat sparked off the attached musings of an aging ex-crewman ...

Valentia Island, where I come from, was not connected by bridge to the mainland in 1960. Instead, we travelled by boat to Renard Point and then cycled three miles to school in Caherciveen. A bad day or an extra-low tide meant a free day. We would triumphantly announce: 'Bad ar an dtalamh!' or 'Boat aground!' the following day in school.

On 9 March 1960 the 'bad' was on the 'talamh' until around 10am. The relief lifeboat Peter &• Sarah Blake was on station and an exercise with the District Inspector was about to take place. Coxswain Jack Sugrue had just given me the nod to take a [lifejjacket. At that moment Herbert Renwick, originally from Lynton Road in Bermondsey but an operator at the Western Union Cable Station, and my grandfather arrived with my schoolbag and a packed lunch: The boat is afloat now. Co to school.' I went.

On returning home that evening, still sulking, I set about the homework and as always left the mathematics, which I hated with a passion, until last. The first maroon burst and I was out the door and down the street like a flash. There was no messing this time. I was in the oilskins and going on my first service call. The Portmagee trawler Ros Con was drifting in a heavy swell near Scarriff Island. It was bitterly cold. We would be there in two hours and hopefully in time.

The food available on board was mock turtle soup, water biscuits and bully beef. But it was Ash Wednesday. Religious ethics then came into play. One should not eat meat but was the soup meat or fish? Various arguments were put forward including the theory that, if there was more than six feet of water under the keel, Church Law did not apply. Personally I believed that when your belly is stuck to your backbone with the hunger and the cold is gone in and out through, ethics don't count. I ate and drank anything I could lay my hands on.

It was a close run thing. We saved the trawler and towed her back to Portmagee at 3am. In the pub the local Carda greeted us with black pints of porter with creamy heads for the saved crew and the lifeboat crew and, oh yes, a bottle of Coke for the young lad.

When we reached home after refuelling and mooring the boat there was a big plate of boiled-egg sarnies and a flask of hot tea waiting for me. There was a note from my mother saying: 'I hope you were bloody well seasick. Finish your lessons and be up for school in the morning.' I was up for school in the morning.

On the ferry I was a bit of a celebrity. I set about completing the maths, which despite the last night's instructions I was too knackered to even look at. A kindly person allowed me to transcribe them from his copy. It was the least he felt he could do in view of my being out on the lifeboat. In the school the master corrected the copies. In a serious break with precedent all my sums were correct. He came over with the strap (leather filled with coins) and delivered six blistering slaps:'You copied them!' I am remembering these events 45 years later as if they were only yesterday. But then lifeboat memories are precious.

Yours faithfully, Dick Robinson Ennis, Co. ClareDear Editor, In the spring 2005 issue of the Lifeboat you had an article about the World Concord. It took me back in time.

I was a crew member of the Shell tanker Niso. On 26 November 1954 we left the River Mersey on our way to Rotterdam and, in darkness, the World Concord overtook us in the Irish Sea. In the early hours of the next day we received an SOS from her, saying she had broken in two but was still afloat. We went to her and stood by the forward half. I think there were seven persons on the bridge. We got our lifeboats ready for launching but before we went they flashed to us not to launch as she wasn't in immediate danger of sinking. We remained ready to go until HM5 Illustrious, an aircraft carrier, came on the scene, when we continued on to Rotterdam. (I believe the Furness Withy tug Turmoil was also in attendance.) Both halves were in our sights but miles separated them.

I saw World Concord months later under repair in Rotterdam.

Yours sincerely WTyman Skelmersdale Lancashire The Editor comments: World Concord broke up in the same storm that sank the South Goodwin lightship, also mentioned in the spring 2005 issue of the Lifeboat. All 42 crew of World Concord were rescued by Rosslare and St Davids lifeboats in a daring rescue operation that resulted in several RNLI awards for gallantry. Read about a more recent rescue by St Davids on page 12 of this issue.Dear Editor At Selsey, our Lifeboat Operations Manager always likes to get all the casualty details as soon as possible. I hope you can use this picture.

Yours faithfully Second Coxswain WJ Pledger Selsey West Sussex Crew Member Max Gilligan apparently setting off from Selsey'sTyne class lifeboat City of London towards the casualty on towCorrection The spring 2005 issue of the Lifeboat included a misspelling in the article 'Gallant rescue by ladies...'. Mrs Eleanor Galbraith received an RNLI Medal for Gallantry in 1855 for her part in a rescue atWhitburn,Tyne and Wear, not Weir. We apologise for any irritation caused to residents past and present by this mistake, including MrW Farley of Burscough, Lancashire..