Instead of Drowning

I am the son and grandson of sailors; men with squinting faces, lined with salt, their eyes reflecting an endless blue-grey horizon. Like Ulysses I feel the pull of the sea. The shrieking of gulls is enough to shorten my breath and narrow my veins.

I have this money, my share of my mother's disposed estate.

I could go to Vegas and put it all on black. But what happens if I win? Twice the problem.

I could buy a boat. I've found a 60 foot gaff yawl which I could easily afford:-



But I'd have to man her, moor her, and, presumably, learn how to sail. I like that boats are girls. Maybe I'll just get a beach hut.