My husband worked in a brothel in Barbados. It was just for a few weeks. He was eventually asked to leave. After 'that murder that night', the business was re-opening. The threats and the rather large, naked ladies that were hosed down daily, convinced him that it really was time to leave.
This bizarre story goes hand-in-hand with almost nine years of my life on the high seas on a ten metre boat. We had close-calls with pirates, muggers, and man-eating crocodiles, which was enough to keep the adrenaline buzzing. Boat crashes, storms, almost sinking and a whale collision filled the gaps, if ever we became complacent.
A near ‘agreed’ abduction by a beautiful French Gigolo, who lifted me up from the road after I was run-over in France, didn’t alter the incredible bond between my new husband and I – a bond that I’ve only witnessed in movies. But, I still carried the mixed emotions of losing one man, while falling head over heels with another.
I lived without running hot water, and with a dinghy instead of a car. More importantly, during my journey, my husband fulfilled a life-long dream, I cried hard, I laughed harder, and I played with sea-lions and dolphins.
I took on the testosterone fuelled nautical world and ultimately became a professional captain and then a maritime teacher.
I also had the time of my life and finally figured out who I am.