Boats is what I love and water, water everywhere.Railway lines with shrieking steam trains gulping white billows of vapour and smelling of coalfires.The cathedral is behind me where my graduation ceremony was held.Once, on my cycle, I turned to cross the railway line nearest the quayside and my bike slid from under me, plunging into the water like a dog rushing at a duck. Luckily I landed on my bum without following my bike in.I like to bring my home, a sailing boat, up here for a run around the harbour to shake the spiders out of the sails.

This is how it makes me feel:"A cold, clean wave of salt air broke like magic over my head. It curled through the terminal, wiping the land away. Challenging, changing, rioting up and down the wharve with a crying of gulls while out in the river the sunlight sparkled on the windy green water."

(Sterling Hayden, 1979, Wanderer, London, Futura Publications Ltd. (PP.80).)