This journey is plagued with set backs. It feels like we've bought a Friday afternoon boat. We were holed in Miami for three days waiting for battery chargers that were totally defunct on arrival. Deciding to manage with what we already have, we set off to makeup some ground only to limp into Fort Lauderdale, a few miles up the coast, with a snagged main sail that was jammed in the furling mast. While there, we got hold of an electrician who told us that the battery charging system in place was working fine, but the original design of the system would never achieve what we want it to. Furthermore, because our boat is specified for Europe with a 240 Volt system, no shore power has been fitted for the US 110 Volt system, and our boat will probably have sunk when we come back to it, in five months time, in Chesapeake, due to no power for the bilge pump. Huh, bummer!

There are plenty more of these issues, but they are so boring and frustrating, I can't be bothered to talk about them. These frustrations come down to expectations, and when you buy a new boat, you might expect it to work. "Wrong", say boatie friends. Apparently we are being naïve. When you buy a new boat you should expect nothing to work and then enjoy sorting it all out. What?! I'm just not getting this sailing lark.

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Mes amis - my friends. Mon amis, my ami - my friend, Miami. What a place - Miami Beach. Thanks to deficiencies in workmanship on our boat (censored), we have been forced to stay here.



However, I feel fat! I'm suddenly conscious of the slightly flabby bit around my waist in which I have invested thousands of pounds and to which I have dedicated years in the pub. Until arriving in Miami I felt pretty trim, now I'm just wobbly. These guys must spend half their life in the gym, toning and flexing, followed by hours of bronzing. Is there nothing better to do here? Well, I can tell you the answer to that - damn right there is, but it's not conducive to toned abs.



This place is a Mecca for funky clubs and bars, beautiful people, flashy cars. What's your tipple - anything goes, need a bigger bra, or a reconstructed nose? No burger joints here, but there's plenty if you're queer, and then the waited café-ed street, attended by the wafered slim elite.

Driving bass lines - follow your ears, this party's mine, hear the whooping cheers.

Look at all the buildings, that tasteful neon deco, and symmetrical art moderne, at every corner I turn. Turn your eyes towards the marine; following the sound of thunderous engine driving gliding missiles, draped in lounging beachwear, followed by fluttering blonde hair.

Driving bass lines - follow your ears, this party's mine, hear the whooping cheers.



I think I'll be coming back to Miami!

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... not sailing! At anchor now, the wind's lessened off as the day progressed and the sea calmed down. The daily dose of gin has been administered and taken by all, and the sun finally surrendered itself to its antithesis. Mum is smiling and we're all looking forward to our tea (dinner), wondering if it was so bad after all.

I have to hand it to her; she bounces back like a bungee cord. I was thinking today she might just ditch us and the boat, demand we sell it, while she goes and stays with her friend in Tampa. But no, it's all rationalised; "it's just because I don't know the parameters and it scares me! I just need to get used to each new experience." What a star! She reminds me of a character in a book I read as a child; Supergran.

I asked Dad, today, if he likes sailing. He made an analogy to asking a marathon runner if he enjoys running marathons. The answer is probably no, but millions do every year. I think he's right, much of it is unpleasant, but that is what creates the balance to make the good bits great. The best bit about running is when you stop, and occasionally you do actually enjoy the run.

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