High life | 30 June 2012

On Board S/Y Bushido, off Corsica 

For the past three days I’ve been watching people aged 110 years old prancing around bareheaded under a sun so fierce no Taleban warrior would ever emerge from under his camel. I tried to speak to the captain of one of these megaships, but he mistook me for a reporter and looked quite nervous until I pointed towards Bushido and told him I was the owner. He looked a bit less nervous but remained suspicious as I had no bling on me and my clothes were not Dolce & Gabbana. He told me that these ‘ships’ are so perfect that they no longer pitch or roll in heavy seas, and the folk on board can dance to their heart’s delight even if there is a 10 Beaufort storm raging. The captain is obviously a loyal employee because, to my gimlet eye, these tubs look as though they would be death traps were they ever to roll over.