On board S/Y Bushido
I changed my mind about going to Capri. Apparently no heterosexuals are allowed on the island during August, so I turned to starboard and headed for Sardinia. The last time I was there I was in my early fifties, my children were in school, and I was running after someone who is now in her late forties. Oh and, yes, I almost forgot, the Sardinian waters were as clean and clear as they get. No longer. The first mega-monster I crossed was the ghastly Abramovich stink pot, a humungous bad-taster whose personality reflects that of its Russian owner. No wonder the Sardinian sea now resembles Blackpool.
Mind you, not all stink pots are the same. The Virginian, owned by that Bamford fellow, has gracious lines for a modern mega-yacht, and, from looking at it, its owner is obviously a gent.
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