Boat people

On board S/Y Bushido

We hit a hurricane while sailing off the coast of the Riviera last week, or, to be more precise, a hurricane called Tim Hoare hit us. I have never in my long life met anyone quite like Tim. The words tumble out so fast, enwrapped in alliteration and so clogged with onomatopoeia, that a foreign-born like me misses about three out of every four words. Bursting with bombast, generously pronouncing Bushido among the most beautiful boats afloat, Tim then casually informed us how his private jet had an engine blow up in flight and how for 20 long minutes they looked like goners. Even worse, he was flying alone and could see the two pilots struggling to control a wildly bucking aircraft (one engine had exploded and the pieces had got into the rotor, forcing the plane to fly in circles). He fortunately made it down somewhere near Avignon and joined us in St Tropez for a sumptuous dinner.