After an inconvenient delay which the British people utilised to have a good ol’ moan, I am aboard. That’s right.
I’m on a boat.
But I wasn’t always this enthusiastic. Far from it. I used to be terrified of this very situation. Floating precariously on perilous waters, aboard a huge, metal death-box. At age 10, as far as I was concerned I’d be extremely lucky to make it across the sea alive. In my mind, the chances of the ferry sinking like a dead stone to the bottom of the Irish Sea were highly likely.