(Underway, 147 Nautical Miles)
Me – “Hey Greg, can I write about your Harry Potter obsession?”
Greg – “Ya, I’m proud of it, I don’t care who knows.”
So there it is, Greg is head over heels for the incredibly entertaining adventures of the famed young wizard and he’s not afraid to admit it. I’m a longtime fan – also not afraid to say so – and am the reason why we have the entire collection of hard copy books onboard. Since Greg has taken up the new hobby of reading, it has been a challenge to have books on hand that fit his criterium. I first got him George Orwell’s 1984, mistakenly thinking the Big Brother world would interest him, but after listening to him moan and groan through the whole thing I quickly deduced the classics weren’t his cup of tea. Through a series of books to follow, he’s professed he’s a reader of pure non-fiction. If it happened for real he’s in. If it happened for real and has an element of drugs, scandal, or life-threatening adventure, all the better. After running out of said books I pushed hard for Harry Potter, and like any warm-blooded homosapien he was instantly hooked. Since starting book one in the Galapagos he’s burned through them with all the symptoms of a proper Harry Potter fanatic. Our conversations are full of references, casting spells, and calling me Hermoine; he recounts his wizard-filled dreams for me each morning with wide-eyed enthusiasm; and sometimes when I wake him up for his night shift he mumbles away at me about Quidditch.
I realize I have just wrote an entire post on Greg’s reading preferences. This may be viewed as a little pathetic – or maybe a lot – I offer these three points in my defence: One, Harry Potter is that good and deserves the accolades. Two, today is day 17 out to sea, I may be losing it a little and perhaps am experiencing a little boat-fever. Three, the fishing lines were absolutely silent today so there’s no fish to report on. Long story short. I blame the crappy fisherman!