Tits. Well, now that I have your attention, I shall begin.
And now I’m finished. Yes, that pretty much sums up my day. I woke up, I wrote about yesterday, I had three beers, I walked song the beach to book a catamaran, I had breakfast.
I swam in the sea, the clean, clear sea. I had un otro cerveza and swam in the pool. I had another beer and a buffet lunch. The sea again, then on to the catamaran with one brother, my father and his wife.
The sea was rougher today. Waves above my head obscured my view of the buoys that marked out the reefs. The wind caused the rudder to fight my grip and my fingers were soon sore. For me, it was exciting. If a man lives as if he were never to die, he would die before he knew how to live. I thought I might lose control of the craft, but of course I kept that little titbit of information to myself. I can be selfish with knowledge, especially if the sharing of it might cause my passengers to shit.
We came in early. After a half-hour of waves battering us like cod in a fish supper, the adults called time on our excursion and instructed me to plot a course for shore, for sure. Easier said than done, but I manged to pass off my inability to turn the boat around as reluctance to do the same. But eventually I was master of the wind, the sail filled and, with the sun on our backs, we jibed and headed for the beach. And beach we did, running the hulls half-way up the sand, before disembarking off (not a little saddlesore) and making our way back to the beach to sunbathe some more.
Weird, I honestly thought this would be a short post.
It’s 5pm as I write. Now is a shower, and later is dinner at the italian a-la-carte, meaning long pants and a collared shirt. Maybe a show after, but definitely nothing else to write home about, so get some sleep and check back here later.
