Anchors Away

September 1 2085

Yee-haa! High fives! Stratospheric fives actually! I’ve escaped the shores of Aotearoa and, let me tell you, oh assembled multitudes who are hanging out for every dinky little word I write (okay, I know – but dreams are free) . . . Anyway, let me tell you, it wasn’t easy to get myself on board this boat bound for the mysterious kingdom of Taris. A lot harder than getting myself educated, which I have now officially done (tick off school, tick off uni, tick off the job lined up for when I get back). So why me? How did I get picked? Listen up, all you poor slobs going crazy with envy with your feet on the solid ground of Aotearoa, and I will tell all.

It’s no great conspiracy really, which I think is a bit of a shame. My name got picked in the draw. Then I had to do the interview with Malia – hell, that woman’s got eyes of steel if you know what I mean. Got through that, BUT then it’s the final chat with old Willem and he’s got titanium eyes with ice chips embedded. (Hmmm, there might be something wrong with that image.) I reckon I got picked because of my flawless character and my sterling qualities. Okay, I’ll admit it: I got picked because of all my holiday jobs working in kitchens.

There! Now you know the ugly truth about BoatBoy – I’m taking part in a dramatic dash against time and tide AS A KITCHEN HAND.

Such is life. But I have to tell you that it’s ULTRA being offshore! Absolutely utterly ULTRA. I snuck up on deck to watch the land vanish over the horizon. If I could go back in time I’d be a pilot – air variety. But hey, this is pretty damn good in the here and now.

Watch this space. I will post daily unless unforeseen events occur such as us sinking below the salty seas. (Just joking, Mum!)