16 November 2013

 - At the start of the nineties, when South Africa was finally throwing off the chains of apartheid and Nelson Mandela was about to be released after 27 years in detention, I had the opportunity to go on a long and open-ended ocean voyage in a small sailing boat with just one other person, and I decided to take it.Though I was a land-lubber who'd grown up far from the sea in a mining town near Johannesburg, I was young, free and slightly crazy, and I loved the ocean. I also had faith in my ability to eventually stop getting violently ill every time I went out on the water, and trusted my partner, the captain of the boat, who'd built it at home in the garden and was an accomplished sailor.

We set sail in high spirits on the good ship Zaphod just days after Mandela's release, with enough supplies of sea-sickness remedy to last until such time as I found my ‘sea legs’.

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