The dream

The first sun rays of dawn tickling my eyelids open. A stretch, a yawn, a sneaking out quietly onto the foredeck letting the peaceful angels sleep a little longer. Serene yoga session followed by a dip in the refreshing blue surrounding us for which the slowly waking family joins me. The kids decide to make pancakes while I have a good morning jam with my guitar and the guys from the neighbouring boat on the beach, accompanied by kookaburraws and lorikeets, watched over by preying sea-eagles… Breakfast is ready…

The reality

Water dripping in through the vents. Rain waking me. I crawl out into the cold to have a quiet moment before the kids explode into the morning. Just as I’m about to settle into my morning meditation, little one wakes up screaming ‘booby’. As I approach her, the stench of a pooey nappy almost takes my breathe away. Half an hour later I finish cleaning up the stinking mess. She launches into her next demanding mantra, ‘I’m hungry’= on repeat. Of course, she refused to eat the delicious pumpkin risotto last night. Daddy picks up the task. By now it’s bucketing down rain. Never mind. I take of my clothes to go for my ritual morning skinny dip in the icy Antarctic waters. Not a single boat around. I still haven’t had even a mini moment of me-time yet to set up for the day. It’s so freezing that no one else dares leaving the cozy cabin, so I do get some quiet time finally.

As I launch myself into the ocean, an image pops up into my mind of a friend’s mate who recently became shark food as he was doing exactly as I am. I know these waters are shark-infested, but I also know that their feeding time is over for the morning and an attack is ways more unlikely than our boat sinking or me being killed in a car accident. Nevertheless, my swim is short. For a moment afterwards I feel fresh and invigorated. Before my towel gets soaked completely, I head back down the companionway to find a full breakfast table set with anything a hungry belly could desire. The kids are full of life, aka jumping around like savage wild bores. The stench from farting pre-teenage boys is nothing compared to what’s about to follow… One of them launches right onto the full and set, custom designed, lovingly made and trickily installed fol- out cabin table. As it breaks out of its hinges to hit the cabin floor, the jam, croissants, hierba mate, bread, tea and everything else follows behind. The boat is a mess. The table a write-off, breakfast gone…