Message in a Bottle

Recently there was a news story about a girl who sent a message out to sea in a bottle, which was later found 200 miles away by a group of beachcombers in the Netherlands.

First of all, who knew beachcombing was a thing? Second, why?

Anyway, in her message the little girl asked the finder to ‘phone granddad’, which is precisely what they did (presumably to have a chat about littering).

Not being funny though, since when is tossing bottles into the ocean acceptable? Could someone throw an old packet of crisps into the water as long as it’s got a handwritten note sealed inside?

Environmental conscience aside, yes, the story is amazing and restores faith in humanity. But if I was going to send to sea a message in an empty bottle, it would say something like:

“Can someone please fill this up?”

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This reminds me about an accidental holiday we once took on board a pirate ship. We were shown to our (rather snug) cabin by a timid young lad, and assumed his nervousness stemmed from just starting his sea-hand work experience. (He certainly wasn’t being paid, from a glance at his sea-worn rags.)

As poor luck would have it, we missed going up on deck to watch the boat cast off due to searching for the mini-bar and TV. Upon realising that these were non-existent, we felt sure we had been allocated the wrong room and went to address this with someone in charge.

The ship had clearly left the harbour, and we swayed from side to side as we searched the passageways for signs of life, eventually finding a door with ‘CapTain’ written on it. How quaint, we thought, as we knocked.

“Ahoy there!” came a shout from inside. My husband and I looked at each other.

“Does that mean ‘come in’?” he whispered.

“If so, we simply must use that at home!” I replied, grabbing the handle to open the door, which was lighter than it looked and I rather clumsily fell into the captain’s stateroom.

We were confronted by a lean, muscular man with a weathered face framed by fabulous salt and pepper balayage locks. He stood and looked upon us with a twinkle in his eye (which was not lost on me; I’ll tell you that much). I was struck by how peculiarly ‘piratey’ he looked, apart from the tight Levi’s and a slight resemblance to Emmanuel Macron.