I don’t know whether one can have enough of a good thing. Only people with an awful lot of that good thing are in a position to give an answer. Clearly, the state of having had enough of something very pleasurable would not seem to be nearly as good a place to be in as that of wishing one could have just a little bit more of that good thing. The good thing in question was family and friends. Eating, drinking, laughing and loving being with them are all very good things of which I am unlikely to ever have had enough. On the other hand, when it comes to trains and boats and planes, I have had enough of the latter. Planes and body cavity searches go together like a horse and carriage, or a mule and a gross of condoms full of china white. There is a stress about an airport that is absent at a seaport where anticipation replaces anxiety. Even though the deep waters of the sea are quite as deadly to us frail humans as any aerial hazards, it seems that we feel more secure afloat than aloft. Imagery is everywhere, if we look, but being on a ship precludes the problem of looking as it makes itself plain at every turn. The environment is manufactured from heavy steel, but upholstered to prevent us bruising and breaking. Whilst below decks all is fitted carpets, knitted car kits and Noilly Prat, only on deck is the rough beauty of the ship evident. The clarity of the light makes picture making unnervingly easy, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
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