LITMIR.BIZ

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a fantasy played out over a bottle of wine. This was real, a black-and-white absolute fact that could be life-changing in ways that might unearth our deepest fears. But she remained totally and utterly positive, despite that troubling prospect.

      Touchingly, Michael and Holly were also nothing other than completely thrilled and their excitement matched my own. While Anne, as an adult, could think things through with a practical logic, the children were surely allowed to have selfish moments of feeling sorry for themselves at the year-long loss of Dad. Their reaction was such a spontaneous act of support that tears pricked my eyes as they smiled smiles of real happiness for my adventure. I was going to be away from home for the best part of a year to follow a personal dream, but not an ounce of selfishness entered their thoughts.

      When I spoke to my new best friend at Clipper to thank him for his brilliance in character judgement, the offer of the kiss was laughingly dismissed and replaced with a couple of much more practical issues.

      Paying the money and booking up for training.

      I had yet to resolve how we might pay for it all, but still Anne remained completely positive. She was adamant that, having come this far, I would be mad to turn the opportunity down, no matter what problems work might put in my way to quash the dream.

      ‘You’ll kick yourself for ever if you don’t do it,’ she admonished, fully aware of the responsibilities I had towards her, the children, our home, Lloyds Bank and, if they were lucky, Reader’s Digest. For several weeks there was a small niggle that refused to go away, especially late at night as I tried to get back to sleep. It whispered words like ‘irresponsible’, ‘fool’ and ‘idiot’ as an incessant nag. But Anne had quietly spotted the signs and was already heading them off at the pass.

      I e-mailed Barry in his retirement idyll of Miami and he concurred with Anne’s view. We had kept in regular contact and he knew that work was becoming an increasingly challenging experience for me. He also knew that the longer I stayed a part of it, the unhappier I would become. But he urged me to do the race for far bigger reasons. He and Wendy, his spiritual and visionary wife, knew that the journey would offer a set of experiences of such clarity that my eyes would be opened in a way they had never been opened before. Whatever the future held, no one could take away the experiences that sailing around the world would provide.

      My parents were also completely on side. Dad loved the idea of another family member going to sea. He loved the idea of the seamanship involved and the scale of the journey. More importantly, both my mother and father thrilled to the boldness of my decision, recognising that I felt able to turn my back on convention and dare to dream a completely impractical dream.

      They had watched with growing dismay, they now confided, the pressures a modern directorship puts one under. They could not understand the amount of travel, the meetings, the punishing schedules that were asked of me and, like any parent, they worried at the toll it might be exacting on their son. There he was, perfect material for being struck down by one of the dangers that come stalking people in their mid-forties. A narrowed artery struggling to deal with high blood pressure, perhaps, or a sudden tumour (as my poor workmate had demonstrated). Or maybe an exhaustion-driven nodding off at the wheel, ending in a somersaulting, horn-blaring wipe-out on the A1 in the middle of the night.

      They saw my decision as nothing other than a truly positive step and realised how difficult the debate must have been to arrive at that point. Any doubts were hidden well and a letter from Dad was hugely supportive and full of unconditional parental love. Already my adventure was unleashing emotions that would have probably otherwise remained unsaid and the honesty that resulted from it was hugely moving and very precious.

      The difficult bit was sharing my plans at work. The easy answer was to simply leave and the past few months had made that a temptation, but life is rarely so simple. I had a mortgage and bills to pay, and a family to keep fed, warm and healthy during my year away.

      I decided to go for the sabbatical option, even though it would mean that I would have to return to an environment that was rather less than enjoyable. But who knew how I might feel after a year away – perhaps the break and a new perspective might be beneficial all round and I could approach another decade with renewed energy and a grander global vision. That ought to appeal to the Germans, surely?

      In the business press I noticed several articles where visionary companies spoke about the benefit of holding on to valued individuals and paid them while they went off to recharge. I carefully cut them out and added them to the early-morning rehearsal of words in front of the mirror before the now tedious dash to the train.

      I sought out my new boss in his newly decorated MD’s office and put the idea to him across his grey wooden desk. I tried not to hide anything and attempted to enthuse on the energies that the trip would bring. The pieces about sabbaticals that had handily appeared in the press to help my cause delivered a faint glimmer of hope, despite the heavy sighs that dominated the meeting rather too much.

      At this early stage in his appointment, it was clear that anything that rocked the boat would be frowned upon from above. The easy option for him was to stay safe and follow the path of least resistance. But, having worked alongside me for several years, he heard a nagging whisper urging him to do better than just dismiss my request out of hand. At the end of the consultation he agreed to think about it for a while, and a couple of days later I was called back for the decision.

      Unfortunately, it was the two-letter version.

      No.

      No, a sabbatical would be unacceptable. The achievements and the market successes, the loyalty and the passion, the desire to come back and continue were all acknowledged, but the answer was ‘No’.

      If I wanted to go, then it would set a precedent and everyone on the board would want to be off. While none of my fellow directors had ever previously hinted at the desire to spread their wings and set about discovering new vistas, I had to accept that perhaps they might be tempted.

      I felt there was an element of brinkmanship being played. Told no, I might simply dismiss the idea as a dreamy aberration, forget about the magnitude of sailing around the world and knuckle down to drowning every time I pulled into King’s Cross.

      If that was the case, it was a complete misreading of my character and the burning desire that was becoming an all-consuming inferno. My mind was made up and, with Clipper assuring me of my place, I was going to be on the deck of that yacht when the start gun fired, no matter what it took. The flickering of the flames could clearly be seen from the other side of the grey desk and the awkwardness that it generated suggested that my single-mindedness was hardly helping make for a perfect corporate day.

      ‘Nothing changes,’ I told him, hoping beyond hope that Anne agreed. I would resign if I had to, but still hoped that we could work some sort of deal. With my head light from the euphoria of the moment, I walked back to my office and wondered how on earth I might find the money – not just to fund my place, but also to keep the family surrounded by bricks and mortar, heat and fish fingers, petrol and tins of Winalot while I was away.

      At least the unhappy meeting had closed with the agreement to give it even more thought, and the man in charge was at pains to point out that he wanted to reach a fair conclusion if he possibly could. But until that could be resolved, he asked me to keep the plans to myself. He did not want the other directors to know and he certainly did not want a boat-rocking session with his superiors from across the water.

      That was fine, except when it came to my most immediate colleagues. Not only did I owe it to them to be honest, but the person who would take on most of my responsibilities in my absence was the person I had employed and nurtured for the past five years. She had become a loyal and trusted friend and, quite apart from wanting to ensure that she was happy to enter the lion’s den, I wanted to be completely straight with her as I planned my own future.

      I organised lunch and nervously told her that the world’s oceans awaited me. She had seen me struggle in recent months and had been supportive in the increasingly lonely battles, so was well placed to appreciate why I wanted this dramatic change. And while I gabbled on about what a great opportunity

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