I sat down at the desk; he was so chirpy at 8.00am EST while I could hardly focus.
Annick put a cup of coffee in front of me, as I listened to stories about Max’s family, nodding in agreement when I should have spoken ,gee that’s interesting, or ah ah.
“Why not “said max “it excites the brain cells” I replied "because it is Expensive, about A$40 to A$60 bottle."
“What about whisky, legend has it the British army used to drink whisky to repel mosquitoes” That may be so but at $100 a bottle it is cheaper to be bitten by a mosquito.
Booze used to be much cheaper in Indonesia up to about 12 months ago when the Government auditors discovered that the excise collected by Customs never actually reached the government coffers.
The Department of Finance acted quickly and slapped a “Super Tax” on all imported liquor, until they could track down the missing millions of Excise.
This could take years as no one will be willing to blow the whistle, and implicate the hand that feeds them.
By the end of the phone call I was wide awake and being Sunday all the Saturday drunks
were sleeping off the effects of drinking. Gee, what a wowser, with that statement I could get free membership to the Temperance Union.
Now the sun was up and the clouds were threatening rain. Not having any particular plans
I went downstairs to the gym and exercised a few muscles, bike riding watching BBC news on TV, the vibrating machine that was designed for women, in that is attempts to shake the fat off their stomachs, and explode the cellulite in their legs.
For me it almost shakes my eyeballs out of their sockets. Watching TV is like experiencing an earthquake. Well at least is blurred the image of Sharon Burroughs who was rabbi ting on about collective bargaining. In my wobbly state I imagined a scene in a department store of a gaggle of women collectively bargaining with a poor defenseless, down trodden shop assistant
Stepping off the wobble board I picked up the dumbbells for a 100 monotonous lifts in front of the mirror when I noticed that my upper lip was lifting each time I lifted the dumbbells, that must me a signal from my body to stop and so I did.
After a bit more play with other toys of torture the sweat was dripping off me and that was another signal to stop, have a shower and jump in the pool.
Relaxing on the edge of the pool looking at the other guests woofing down fatty breakfasts,
I felt quite smug as most were nursing hangovers.
Back in the apartment I received an email from one of my best friends; you know the normal chatty things. He is a sailor and like me he is fan of Joseph Conrad, the Polish lad who ran away to sea and
did not learn English until he was 16. Included in
the email was the following slab of words written
by Joseph Conrad when he was at sea.
“Yes, your ship wants to be humoured with knowledge. You must treat with an understanding consideration the mysteries of her feminine nature, and then she will stand by you faithfully in the unceasing struggle with forces wherein defeat is no shame. It is a serious relation, that in which a man stands to his ship. She has her rights as though she could breathe and speak; and, indeed, there are ships that, for the right man, will do anything but speak, as the saying goes.
A ship is not a slave. You must make her easy in a seaway, you must never forget that you owe her the fullest share of your thought, of your skill, of your self-love. If you remember that obligation, naturally and without effort, as if it were an instinctive feeling of your inner life, she will sail, stay, run for you as long as she is able, or, like a sea-bird going to rest upon the angry waves, she will lay out the heaviest gale that ever made you doubt living long enough to see another sunrise.”
Damn it! I had just sold my dream ship; we’ve been together for twenty years, our relationship ended like most relationships. She was high maintenance and lusting after a youthful new adventure while I was aging with very little money and no plans.
I surrendered her to a younger man who had both mney and plans.
I thought I was realistic, after living with old people in a retirement village, I was becoming like them and thought I was too old to brave the elements, and not strong enough to winch in the sheets and raise the anchor.
What bullshit, three weeks at the gym, an absence of alcohol and the visual pleasure
of watching beautiful Balinese women I am a new man, my lust has returned, lust for another boat that is; and so the search began.
I spent the day searching yachts for sale on the web and reading sailing stories. By the end of the day I was pumping with enthusiasm and was already planning an ocean voyage. In my head I had bought the yacht and now I was planning the route and preparing the yacht.
That’s what happens when you have a quiet day.
