It started the same way. Lovely crisp days in February, rolling into a hot spring. What better way to enjoy the summer, I thought, than aboard my own private boat.
Flushed with cash and excitement after a particularly good bonus, I clubbed together with a friend to purchase a junk. For the first month she was wonderful.
It was at one of our infamous boat parties that I first laid eyes on Tai Tai. I drank at least a bottle of Taittinger before I had the courage to talk to her. This, it turns out, was not advisable, as I slipped on the champagne sloshed all over the deck and fell overboard.
Anyway, when the black rain set in a month later the junk began to haemorrhage money — boat boys, moorings and fuel do not come cheap. At first I did not notice, but six months later I remembered the thing was still there — rotting.
Now as a banker I’d like to think I can make a decent investment — and it turns out the two best things about having a boat are the day you buy it and the day you sell it. Not because you’re making a decent ROI, but because damn thing loses you money from day one. Much like children I suppose, but unfortunately you can’t sell them.