Navigation.

Just a few thoughts about navigation.

People often ask me if I have a destination. Do you know where you’re going Dick, they often ask? Well of course I give them the old smile, like I know what’s going on, but tell the truth I don’t have a clue.

To be honest I don’t know bugger all about navigation neither. Or should that be ’nor do I not know bugger all about navigation either.’? Always have trouble with those double negatives. I can read a chart and a compass of course but the finer points elude me. Sextant? GPS? No thanks. All that fiddly stuff with plotters and logs. I left all that to Nyum. I trusted her completely. She gave me a compass heading and I steered it. She seemed to have an instinct for it. Funny that.

Some people just always seem to know where they are. The Carib Indians got around OK in their canoes. Island hopping probably. Never out of sight of land for long. Bloody amazing how those early Polynesians found their way around the Pacific with just a few shells and a couple of twigs. Took their wives and kids and pigs along too. Me, I don’t know where I am half the time. Hah…I can read the wind and the water but dates, tide-tables, windspeeds, headings…it’s all bloody mixed up. Get to my age and you don’t give a toss. Take each day as a bonus. When I left Tahiti I had a vague plan to go to Barbados (where I have a house) via Aruba. Didn’t work out. Ran into some very strong westerlies after we left Colon and decided to do the islands clockwise. That meant heading for Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands. Then what? Drop in on Oscar? Maybe give him a hand with his treasure hunt. Say hello to Richard Branson' I do plan to end up in Barbados for the Mountgay Distillery Pilgrimage but not sure when. After that who knows. Back to Pattaya probably, always plenty of odd-jobs at the Headley Hostel for Rehabilitated Sex Trade Workers. Basket weaving seems popular.

Sometimes I get on a nice long tack with a steady wind and I feel like I could go on sailing forever. Let the wind take me wherever it wants to go. Just lounge back, watch the girls in their matching Team Headley thong things, and think about the keel slicing through the water.

Way up in the sky I see the vapour trail from a Lear Jet. What’s that about I wonder? World Bank officials winging their way to Washington to catch up on the latest tax fiddles? Colombians moving a bit of dope? Beyonce off for a photo shoot? Who knows? And I see Brian Clough died at 69. Good number. He was a nice fella, let's hope he’s alright.

I met the King of Afghanistan once. At the Hudson’s Bay Company fur auction in London. He was flogging still-born lamb skins and I was there to buy a string of wild mink pelts. Skinny little bugger he was with a big nose. We got chatting and he tells me he likes big girls and do I know any? So I took him and his bodyguard up West. We had a nice meal at Wheelers then it was back to the Savoy where I made a couple of phone calls and ordered up some tarts. “This is Christine and Mandy your Majesty.” I said, “They will be happy to sit on your face” They settled on 100 quid each which I thought was steep but the King was happy. “Thank you Mr. Dick. You very good man” says the King, “Why you no come stay in my palace in Afghanistan?”

I never took him up on it, which was probably just as well. Christine and Mandy went on to become famous after Jack Profumo got arrested. I don’t know what happened to the King. Probably got beheaded by the Taliban. You can google all this stuff.

Ning and Nong are still bugging me about Miami. And I think I spotted the black pirate boat again. Could be a plot twist.