This bank holiday weekend, David and I spent a night on a superyacht. A 30th birthday gift from Mama G, this particular superyacht was conveniently close to home (hells yes to sleeping on the Thames) very swish, and came with a fancy meal. Being the big kids that we are, we managed to turn said fancy meal into a hilarious series of events that would have made no sense to anyone but us. They certainly made no sense to the woman on the table directly in front of us. Ease up on the stink eye, lady.
Over chicken with red wine jus and vegetarian pancake cannelloni and so much laughing it started to hurt, the following incidents took place:
Incident #1: While we ate hot rolls covered in rosemary butter, David suddenly turned very serious. Dropping his bread, he stared at his hand, a pained expression on his face.
Him: My hand hurts
Me: Oh no, what happened?
Him: *Moves hands apart in a way that makes it look like he’s pulled his own thumb off*
Me: Oh my god *momentary genuine shock face*
Him: … HOW did I get you with that?
Me: I WASN’T EXPECTING IT, IT WAS SO REALISTIC!
Incident #2: Waiting for our main courses to arrive, we spent some time perfecting the art of ‘here is the church, here is the steeple,’ and then we text David’s Mum to say thank you. She began to message us back just as David’s glass of red kicked in. Finding himself hilarious, he began sending her everything I said, each sentence credited with my full name. He’d then send his own thoughts with his full name added. This progressed to sending her – and the rest of his family – the unicorn emoji, with the words ‘the good luck unicorn has arrived! wishing you the best of luck!’ His poor confused mum sent a swift thank you darling as her son lol’ed himself under the table over his meal. I haven’t laughed so hard at anything so random in absolutely ages. May the good luck unicorn bless all of our endeavours🦄
The meal ended without dessert and we retired to our muchos grand and stately bedroom, which was air conned to the max and had a pretty view over the streets of Landaaan. Here, we watched a programme about yachts whilst on a yacht (trippy) before getting the best night sleep we’ve had since adopting the pup. Speaking of which…
Incident #3: The middle of the night, under the world’s cosiest duvet (seriously, I just ordered one) David sits up in a grief ridden panic. Apparently his first night away from Cora was playing on the sleeptalker in him, because…
Him: She hasn’t got her socks on.
Him: The dog. She’ll get cold.
Him: The dog! She hasn’t got her socks. HER FEET WILL BE COLD.
Me: Oh… I gave her some socks.
Him: Oh OK good *goes instantly back to sleep*
We rounded off the long weekend by smuggling watermelon back from the breakfast room for the dog, watching the Gilmore Girl’s finale, and falling in love with this girl’s voice:
It has been a good one.
Yacht days beat work days hands down.