Castaway

I was watching that Tom Hanks film Cast Away t'other night. Maybe it's because I had a particularly grueling year at work in 2006, but the idea of being ship/plane wrecked on a tropical island really appeals to me. I'm not talking Lost style (although being marooned with Evangeline Lilly would have it's merits), but being alone, in the sun, on a beach Robinson Crusoe-like (Man Friday can find his own island). I was in my own little fantasy world for a few moments, until I thought, what about alcohol? I could never survive without a few jars every now and then. Even if a few crates of Fosters washed up with you, they would soon disappear. I then figured out that I would devise some way of creating my own brand of Malibu out of the coconuts. Shit yeah, cocktails all day long. Bliss. Then I thought 'no internet, no sport results, NO SKY!' Fuck that for a game of soldiers then, I'm staying where I am in miserable rainy Camberley.