As I write this, Dean is on a friend’s yacht, sailing to New Caledonia. Without me! But he can’t be having adventures without me!

They asked me to join them once they got there, but apart from lack of funds, I swore I’d never be one of “those wives” who are waiting on the other side. They have a cocktail in one hand, they have lovely clean hair, and they’ve got make-up on (even in the sweaty heat).

Not going on this adventure with Dean is my bad karma for all the whinging I’ve done about not loving sailing. It’s my penance for all the swear words I’ve screamed out to sea on a night shift. I should be thankful I’m not battling six metre waves and a black, black night.

There’s no photo to go with this blog. Because it would be of me, sitting in my six metre x three metre office, with a horrible fluro light, on my own, convincing myself that the work I’m doing has meaning and importance. I’m feeling a little sorry for myself. And a little lonely without my adventure man. Not even the thought of Coronation St on TV tonight is cheering me up.

I thought I had already decided to choose adventure. I now realise that is a life time journey and I’ve only just started.  I had the opportunity to go but I let fear stand in the way. It was such an easy decision to make. Easy is so overrated.

So I’m going to make a promise to myself: Janie, from now on, you shall always choose adventure. Always.