The three youngsters turn up to the back of our luxury superyacht and we strongly advise against trying dock anywhere near the shining exterior of our pride and joy.
The high speed and chilly ride (we haven’t been granted with the warmest of days during our off time on the island) takes us past some sickly properties, one of which belongs to Beyoncé and Jay Z, so they say.
When we finally arrive to Turtle Island, the sun is at it's peak and I kick back with my lips around a nice cold beer. One of the boys, Charles, offers me a ride on the jet ski. The last time I rode on one, I was petrified that I would fall off and be stranded in the middle of the lapping waves. My X at the time pushed me to the front to drive and I flittered between shrieking with excitement, then fear. This time was completely different, after a hesitant start, the thrill kicked in and my inner danger mouse pushed the turbo into action. The boys arms tightened around my waist as he yelled at me to watch the depth of the ocean and slow the hell down as the others had taken to snorkel in the water.
Aisha comes back from the water bowled-over with the excitement of swimming so close to beautiful sea turtles With the adrenaline from the speed of my drive, I don't feel like diving in yet, but when I clock the gopro image enough is enough – I want to swim with a sea turtle.
Later I get another high speed drive, this time on a golf cart when the three seventeen year olds take us out for lunch and cocktails at the beach club.
A privileged up bringing these guys had, do I wish I had it? Nah, my mum scraped hard for everything she gave me. And now I have worked to give myself everything I want. Maybe I haven’t gone with, but iv never gone without. And if I had been given my own jet ski to thrash around with years ago, this day clutching the throttle as I smashed through the waves, wouldn’t have been half as much fun.