As we sailed - engined? on, it got warmer and warmer, and as the temperature rose, the layers of clothing we were wearing reduced considerably, until Sandra was posing by the side of the swimming pool on the top deck in nothing more than her new bikini. This wasn’t the bikini she had on the canals, but another one, as she likes to have new stuff all the time. I’d gone with her when she bought it, because she likes to have my opinion on things like that, although she usually makes decisions for both of us when it comes to anything important. Really, I thought it might have been sufficient to get us an invite to the Captain’s table, but when I say sufficient, perhaps there simply wasn’t enough of it to register. Certainly there wasn’t a lot to see. Of the bikini, that is, as there was certainly a lot of Sandra visible. She’s only small, but she does stand out a bit, especially in that bikini.
Anyway, there was Sandra by the pool, and there was me, and there was a load of other blokes all pretending they had weak eyes and needed sunglasses all the time. I knew they were only pretending, and were secretly casting glances at Sandra, but then they were also casting glances at me and weighing up their chances of mixing it with a bloke that measures six foot fourteen, and has shoulders any self respecting barn door would be delighted to own. Let them look, I thought. It’s safe enough. It doesn’t pay to argue with Sandra, as many a bloke has found to his cost. It’s simply not worth the effort. So I just licked my ice cream and did a bit of pretending of my own. In any case, Sandra doesn’t belong to me. It’s probably more true to say that I belong to her. Anyway, none of them had a cabin they didn’t have to share with a couple of other blokes, so their chances of getting anywhere with her have to be