Changing Times, Times Square
‘I think we should sell the boat,’ says Tom.
I give him a hard stare just to make sure it’s the real Tom speaking and not some alien trying to impersonate him.
‘We’re just not getting the use out of it; the weather’s been rubbish, it’s not the easiest coast to sail and you’re scared all the time – where’s the fun in that?’
All true, but sailing is Tom’s love and I’ve always accepted that. So we sit and discuss alternatives; retain the ‘playing houses’ bit that I love by trying a caravan, buying a small fishing boat in which to ‘potter’ (see ‘we’re just not... etc’ above). Anyway, since boats hang around on the market for years, the first job is to see if the boat will sell. It does. Instantly.
‘Come to the beach,’ says Tom.
I’m not sure I want to; there’s a bitter wind and I’m nice and snugly, but, hey, there’s something wrong if you can’t be bothered to go to the beach with the person you love.
‘I don’t think we should rush into buying anything,’ he tells me. ‘I think we should go to New York.’
Ah, now I know why we’re on the beach – it’s so if I start screaming about the money, I’ll only frighten dogs and seagulls.
‘You’ve put up with the boat for years, and I know you’ve always wanted to go to America.’
So after browsing last-minute deals we’re off at the end of the month – just in time for the nuddy-pants scanners at Heathrow and a thorough pat-down. Oh, and assuming the roads and airports are free of snow. Okay, it’s not a very carbon friendly thing to do, but I think I can hold my carbon footprint up with pride; we only had one car for years and years, walked wherever we could and have hardly been abroad. And I promise to make the most of every second of it and soak up every detail. Some of my research may even find itself into the next book...
Painting is 'The Old Boathouse, Poppit' by Tom Tomos