And another awful thing about being on a boat was that there was no way you could leave. You couldn’t simply walk out of the door and into the street and find a taxi and go home. You were stuck. Jammed, moreover, face to face with a chinless man, who seemed to think that you would find it fascinating to be told that one was in the Guards, and how long it took one to drive, in one’s fairly fast car, from one’s place in Hampshire to Windsor.
