My only experience sailing a boat, was in the early 90s in Bermuda, when my Mum decided to put me in a whole month of lessons at the Dinghy Club. I’m sure she thought it would be fun, and that I’d learn a skill. It wasn’t fun at all, largely because I spent the whole month under a capsized boat in the Hamilton Harbour. I was a crap sailor, even though I have a certificate somewhere that states otherwise. When it came to taking my test, I passed with flying colours, thanks to my brother, who was snogging the teacher. The truth is, even in my waterlogged misery, I remember having fun. I liked the other children, all locals, and the rare sail I did manage, felt like a triumph. As a child who got plonked in many activities, and situations, that I did not always want to be in, I feel less awful when I do the same to my own sprogs. They’ll survive, and likely learn a life lesson or two.