The colours were almost unbearably bright. The sun flared through my eyelashes. Delicious excitement pulsed through me as I bit into a plump mango, the juice running down darkly tanned twiggy arms. And as I started to slip away from the dreamworld, I saw myself standing on the edge of a cheerfully painted simple wooden boat, wearing a beat up string bikini and little skirt, atop skinny little fruit-fed legs that knew exactly where they were going. A hand-strung hammock lazed seductively under a sunshade, and I knew there was food and a few belongings stowed away beneath me. My black cat watching out at the bow.

Unfortunately the excitement of hitting on something that buzzed me up so much woke me suddenly. But as I backtracked over the dream in those fast-melting moments of dream catching I remembered how I spent my days visiting islands, speaking a strange language, picking fruit and buying gasoline, colourful people I met as I floated from shore to shore. Then I remembered how it all began – Joseph decided to go on an incredible adventure, he got a boat and I wanted to go with him so badly. But then I realised it would be more fun for each of us to have a small boat of our own to adventure around in.

I want this. So badly. And I keep dreaming of Belize.