Sailing to Purgatory
The final scene in this true adventure shocked the author, too.

‘The reader will be enthralled as Paul, former Fleet Street journalist turned professional yachtmaster, takes us along on his ‘swallowing the anchor’ voyage, his retirement from the sea.

'This self-confessed newish ancient mariner … has spent almost a lifetime sailing solo, as both an ocean going competitive yachtsman, as a DoT Commercial Yachtmaster, and during his circumnavigation to become a singlehanded Cape Horner ... Sailing to Purgatory has all the roller coaster elements of a heart stopping adventure — drama on the high seas, observing life ... undersea volcanoes, a love interest, and waves high enough to scare the pants off most of us.’ - Brenda Vowden, journalist, avid reader






Home from the outside ... St Helenans,
'Saints', round their South Atlantic
island in Midshipman,
en route for Stockholm.


















Enterprising forebears ... The house Paul's father designed, and the car his paternal grandfather designed and built.














Running repairs ... crewman Declan checks rig fittings on the superyacht, Midshipman, which Paul sailed from the Cape to Sweden.


















Sail power ... Gavin's Howe's beautiful yacht in the Mediterranean.



















Rescue in the Southern Ocean ... Yachting World's international edition this month features Paul and Captain Fantastic in its Great Seamanship series.


















Pat and Gerry Adamson, two wonderful supporters get Spirit of Pentax ready for her circumnavigation.















Home sweet home ... St Helena islanders, after a voyage round their island home on the superyacht, Midshipman.


















Baptism of a Cape Horner ... Lady Chichester names Spirit of Pentax in a ceremony at Brighton Marina.
















Homeward Bound 2 is prepared for her attempt on the longest open boat record.


















Tri trials ... testing Paul's entry in the singlehanded race across the Atlantic are great friends Ron Pell, Jerry Freeman plus a keen helper.


















Cover up ... Bob Abrahams works on cover ideas for Sailing to Purgatory.

















Stocking up for 18 months ... Last minute farewells before Spirit of Pentax and Paul left on the long route to become Cape Horners.
















Death of a racer ... Baltic Wind flounders after running into a container in the South Atlantic. Paul and a lady shipmate spent eight worrying days in a liferaft.

And now a word (or two) that some seemingly tormented political misses might have missed in biology classes back in school. To make a baby, we need a man and a woman to get together.

To get a man and a woman together in the required way, we have to have Attraction. He has to be attracted to her. She has to feel at least some attraction for him, for after all, she is certainly likely to pay, as my blog on the subject, What if dads became mums shows, a very heavy price for extreme pleasure.

Image of part of  a Sailing to Purgatory webpage to illustrate the article.
Distractions ... Isn't it time to get back to the genuine political challenge of Brexit, and how to avoid it. Photo by Averie Woodard on Unsplash and many thanks to both.

To ensure that this mutual attraction happens, good old Nature intertwines certain looks and chemicals in the human system, so girls like boys and boys can be overwhelmed by the closeness and appeal of a woman.

... in the confined space of a lift, or a crowd in a pub, or anywhere, if a young man or an oldie, a labourer, a migrant, or politician, might smile and even touch, he's obeying the commands of Nature.

This boost from Nature doesn't attract him to all women, nor all women to all men. For both, a few will meet the particular programming of his and her system.

All this chemistry and manufacture of attraction was programmed a very long time ago, before even the years when some freakish gorillas broke away from the mob.

The chemistry can't change

The chemistry hasn't changed, and fortunately for our species, can't change. It isn't affected by rules and laws. When quirky g'rillas became humans, they began to set up rules to control the majority. And for the thousands of years since, we've had to obey the rules of our own breed in power - or suffer the consequences.

People, humans, have learned to control disease, have managed to extend their lives often into their late nineties. We're so clever with science, our species isn't made up of a few hundred, perhaps a thousand or so.

As I mention in my sailing/travel/adventure story Sailing to Purgatory, the US Census Bureau then put the world population at a little under seven billion.

Nature's rule-makers would never have conceived a population of that size. After all, Nature had provided more than enough diseases and disorders to ensure contraceptives would never be needed.

However, adults practice the art of conceiving 127 times a year, according to a survey not long ago. Nature knew and knows nothing of that, of course, nothing of the laws we are obliged to follow, knows nothing whatsoever about social acceptabilities, and certainly can't make allowances for our monstrous size of population.

So when in the confined space of a lift, or a crowd in a pub, or anywhere, a young man or an oldie, a labourer, a migrant, or politician might smile and even touch, he's obeying the commands of Nature. The more male hormone packing his veins, the more likely it is to happen.

Ancient tribute

Almost always, it is up to the gal to appreciate the exceedingly ancient tribute or not. Almost, in most cases, a discouraging look turns off the sudden demands of testosterone.

Conversely, very tight clothing that accentuates the bits that encourage breeding is very likely - surprise, surprise - to encourage admiring attention.

And whether the up-tight galls in Westminster like it or not, sudden biological approaches happen the other way round, too. However, appreciative males aren't known for whining afterwards.

Don't blame the blokes, ladies. Be grateful for admiring looks that come your way. If you don't want to respond, accept the flattery without showing it. Just don't respond. Usually that's all that's required.

Now can we get back to the genuine political challenge of Brexit, and how to avoid it, pretty please?

Thanks very much for visiting the blogs for my adventure book, Sailing to Purgatory.

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