The ferry started to dock but Wilson, glancing back over his shoulder, could still see Portsmouth on the mainland. 'Are you certain this is Abroad, New Dad?' he asked me, 'You don't think you've fallen victim to some internet-booking scam?'
I pointed to a roadside sign saying, 'Welcome to the Isle of Wight' which seemed to reassure him and we set off for the hotel.
Passing through a lovely little village, Wilson wound down the passenger window and cried out to some surprised pedestrians, 'Prepare yourself, Wight Island — I am amongst you!'
Turning to me he asked, 'Amongst? Among? I wouldn't like them to think me an illiterate buffoon!'
I told him I was sure that was not what they'd be thinking.
Taking a deep breath, he remarked, 'This is the smell of Abroad, New Dad! You can feel its differentness, its foreign-ness, the spicy aromas of its strange Native Cuisine… Wonderful!'
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