We’re in dry dock, at this point only the first mate is sick. But as that’s my wife, and as a captain I’m barely more than a figure head, that’s not ideal.
Nathan, whose birthday is tomorrow (he’ll be nine) is sick. Started puking up earlier tonight. We had a party planned (luckily it was more, take him and his mates to pizzahut, and then cinema – so we hadn’t paid for anything in advance). But whoosh. There go our plans.
There’s that delirious moment when you finish a deadline and you feel like the world is alive, and everything, finally, is right with the world, and that nothing can get better than this.