IT IS 1963. I am an 18 year old ship’s photographer, enjoying a quiet stroll of the deserted open decks of my ship as she rapidly dispatches in tenders her passengers to the St Thomas Island shore. Wandering , I find a lone old man leaning against the rail gazing across at the nearby beaches. “Not going ashore sir ? I politely enquire. ‘No ‘ , he said, ‘not today.’ I exclaim surprise. It’s a beautiful island full of great places to explore!
He smiled, ‘I was here twenty years ago. I don’t need to see it again. I prefer to remember the way it once was.’
Dumbfounded at his lack of adventure I strolled on. At last, I understand. Today, I am now that lone old man, leaning over the Queen Victoria’s ship’s rail gazing across at the romantic island of Bali. No, I will not be going ashore today.
