I’d Have A Right Good Blub

Seriously, I would. I’ve watched shipwreck type films, I’m not stupid. I know the odds of being found are slim – unless I’ve got a black box welded to my back or am classed as a sat-nav destination, I reckon I’d be doomed.

So I’d indulge in a seriously good meltdown

Then, all things being relative, I’d probably fall asleep, wake up hungry and stop worrying about being found and start worrying about the important things in life.

Like food, water and what to use as a toothbrush.

Equally, I’d start worrying about how alone I actually was. I mean, did you watch JurassicPark? King Kong? Hollywood doesn’t make films from thin air; there will be some facts involved, somewhere, somehow. I’m a believer. A big one.

I may also stick some serious virtual pins in whoever was responsible for my shipwreck situation. I mean, why not? I’m unlikely to be discovered (scientists still haven’t found a cure for the common cold – and those guys are intelligent for Gods sake) so why not pass some of my imposed spare time imagining what I’m going to do when I get my hands on the idiot that couldn’t read a nautical map if you sent him to pirate school and he passed with flying colours?

I’d like to say that maybe I’d pass my time in peaceful serenity, taking stock of my life, meditating – enjoying the seclusion. But I’d be a liar. I’d be as mad as a wet hen. I’m useless at DIY – with a capital U for one thing. If – and it’s a BIG if – I was lucky enough to find something to eat, I’d spend more time deliberating over whether it’s poisonous than actually just wolfing it down thanking the Almighty for allowing me to trip over it.

And – I’m a raging Arachnophobe . I have no shame when I find myself discovered by a spider. Unfortunately, from what I’ve seen shipwreck wise, spiders tend to be rife on remote never-been-discovered-before islands. I figure that’s probably more related to a lack of anyone being around and jam jars.  

However, I would like to think that I’d survive. Well – ‘exist’ would be a better word. I think ‘surviving’ conjures up images of Robinson Crusoe and Man Friday. I’d be more like Tom Hanks football friend, Wilson. Deflated, morose – and leathery.

Because I do believe that there’s one positive for being ship wrecked. I’d top up my tan.