One of my fantasies, not yet ticked off from my bucket list, is to be ensconced in a coastal inn with a pint of good bitter, a roaring log fire, and the sea bashing against mullioned windows touching my left elbow. Windows have to be mullioned like they are in all good pirate books. Well, this is the closest I’ve got so far. The windows aren’t mullioned and my wife objected to me starting a fire in the cabin but at least I’ve got the sea bashing against my windows
Just getting started
We had two heavy seas – one only a force five, but this was a force eight gale, and what fun it was. Most nights the sea gently sent you to sleep like a mother rocking a cradle. This was like being rocked by a poltergeist. And the morning was no better. You placed a foot down, and the floor suddenly wasn’t there, having dropped by three or four inches. Worse, you were surrounded on all sides by moonwalking zombies in the same boat – literally. Dignity went out of the window, along with the strategically positioned sick bags along every handrail. I couldn’t afford to be sick* – I had a £200 all inclusive drinks package to work my way through – and so I wasn’t.
The sea gradually calmed, and what follows now are just four or five boring photos of sky and sea – boring to everyone but me but not adequately translated on to the screen. This was why I wanted to be here – sea and sky and silence, seeing what my dad would have seen in less happy times. The last two photos are more interesting, showing a sun that never fully sets and the surreal experience of walking about in daylight at one minute past midnight.
Waiting for the First Mate to hand me the hot rum. Cocoa would have been nice, too
Now this is where it gets weird. Thus far and not farther says the sun
When your body clock is out of synch with reality.