Chapter 25

After lunch and a bit of family chit-chat Litara, my cousin Emma and I went for a walk down at Mermaid Quay to enjoy a genuine spring-feeling afternoon. The reason for Emma suggesting the walk was slow in making itself known but she eventually asked the classic question…

"How do I get mother off my back so I can have a life of my own?"

Emma at 16 is almost 3 years younger than me and seems to be modelling herself on Beyoncé Knowles from Destiny's Child - if I were aunt Sophie I'd be worried sick that Emma was going to come home either pregnant or with some sexually transmitted disease but maybe I'm overly influenced by my dislike for the dark skin/blonde hair look!

"Oh my god! I'm turning into Mum, or in this case Aunt Sophie!"

"What?"

My outburst had not been a help in easing Emma's troubled frame of mind and I had to explain that I'd been trying to see her through her mother's eyes. "Litara had a terrible time with our mother and I sometimes think she still hopes Litara will get a proper secure office job."

"It was even worse in some ways with Mum and Venus because to Dad and I it made no sense," Litara added. "My female friends have or had the same problems because it's a law of the universe like E=mc². Mothers spoil their sons something rotten and make life hell for their daughters."

"But not now. Aunt Joy treats you with respect now. I bet if she were my Mum she'd let my boyfriend stop over!"

If you are 18 and want to know what it is like to feel 80 try explaining to an over-sexed 16 year old that it just isn't going to happen that her mother will agree her boyfriend sleeping-over. Then of course you discover that she's already had sex with him and they are relying on condoms. As it happens we shared the same GP so I got volunteered to accompany Emma to the first available appointment.

As Emma walked ahead Litara looped her arm through mine… "Welcome to the grownups' world Venus. Happens fast doesn't it."

It took us a gentle hour's strolling and joking at the sun-basking tourists to reach the marina where Dumblebit was moored. She was of course Bill's boat but I took pleasure in explaining the deck layout with its little quirky ideas.

There was a retractable carbon-fibre bowsprit the like of which I'd never see that Bill designed to slide out through the starboard gunwale allowing large furling headsails to be flown independent of the rest of the rig.

There were 2 poles, one carbon-fibre and one telescopic aluminium, to hold the normal headsails out when sailing downwind. I tried not to think too much about how I would cope when these things went wrong.

The wind generators and solar panels made Emma ask if there was an electric cooker. My first thought was that the idea was silly because the power drain would be far too heavy without running a generator every time I wanted a cup of tea or to fry an egg but I decided to ask Bill about an electric oven or microwave.

That was when the rest of the family arrived with thermos flasks and nibbles. You can't actually fit 11 people aboard Dumblebit but it was fun trying especially as it was the first time the family had the boat to ourselves without an audience. Bill was beaming like the cat that got the cream with his arm around Grandma. Many couples their age wouldn't have had the mobility to board Dumblebit but here they were discussing domestic details for the boat like any other newly-weds. I gathered that I would be living with an orange/green/violet colour palette which could be interesting when a pink mood came over me!

In a world with a better screen writer our family day would have finished with friendly board games and a Waltonesque goodnight scene but in the madness of the previous evening I had promised to go for a run at 6 pm with Serena. I didn't need a run and I definitely didn't need the Easter Bonnet Half-Marathon she had signed us both up for on Sunday but what can you say when your BFF explains she already has our bonnets and it is to raise funds for children.

Serena of course thought of herself as superbly fit, and she was as fit as any good tennis player who has had no regular exercise for 6 months. One session would probably do more harm than good but when did logic ever come into these ideas. I didn't feel quite as gullible when having changed into my jogging gear I found the whole gang over at Serena's house waiting.

There is something about crowd psychology that allows or even coerces the most conservative into extreme behaviour in the name of fitting in. At its most extreme these conservatives will even insist others belong and conform to some group or other,

"I am an individual not a number! Just because you see me as a boatbuilding, dancing, kickboxing, black, female model does not give you the right to dictate what I wear. If you must know this is very practical and cost only £1 on sale in the charity shop and the day will come when everyone jogs in pink tracksuits covered in flowers!"