I have been sitting here in my very comfortable apartment in Santo Dominigo, comtemplating my very lovely upcoming birthday party on the beach on the Samana Peninusla.
Sadly, however, I have just had to write to my friend, the former Ambassador from Great Britian, to ask for the protection of the Crown to assist on my relocation, that of me and my dog, for I do not believe that this island will be secured in my lifetime.
My reflections brought me to the start of my career, back in 1979, when I started serving as a volunteer for God, offering myself for service in whatever way I could be most useful. I was first sent to report an oil spill in Oyster Bay harbor on the fourth of July in 1979 and then directly over the England for the 1979 Fastnet Race.
Being a child of great privilege, I knew the men of the Royal Ocean Racing Club and they had invited me to come sail with thim in Cowes. I had worked my way up to an invite down to Cowes, by crewing on a boat in Themes Ditton. I was invited to crew on a following boat .. from Cowes to Plymouth. We started the race in Cowes and spent the storm in Salcombe Harbor.
I was thrown off my bunk at 2 Am. The entire boat woke up. The French boat next to anchor down us. Being a British boat, we made tea. And turned on the wireless. Reports came in. Dismastings….. sightings… weather reports.. it was the storm of the century.. it was three days before any of the men on our boat went to shore. And all of the men on our boat had crossed the Atlantic. And we were two miles upriver.
When we got to Plymouth..
There was a party.
Ted Turner was celebrating his victory in winning the toughest race of the century
And the men of the royal ocean racing club were having cocktails up at the duke of York hotel
While people were dying at sea
As I sit here in santo domingo
And look out over
Port au prince
I would like to say
You are fucking up
Hyde park corner