My husband pulled me close, rested his head on mine and whispered “let’s buy a boat.”
I sighed. “Here we go again, Cap’n Hunk.”
I should have guessed there would be more than freshly caught fish cooked up when he dragged me along to drinks and nibbles on his friend’s yacht. On a sunny Sunday arvo, Emily seemed a fine vessel. Fine, as in a superb place to watch other people sailing.
Every time light winds waft across sparkly water, every time he sees boats lifting gently into arching blue swells, every time he feels caged by work commitments, family matters, suburbia, he says, “let’s buy a boat.” Six foot two in his boat shoes, with powerful forearms and a strong chin, he exudes self-assurance. It has become his mantra.…