I say salute the sea-faring hero!
Show me the man who hasn’t embarked upon a hairbrained scheme after a few too many sherberts. Why, I myself remember nearly killing myself as a youth walking home in the middle of winter one night in Croydon 20 years ago, far too many pints swilling around inside me, a worn Crombie overcoat keeping the cold at bay. I thought, as the temperature plunged ever lower, that wouldn’t it be nice to just curl up in a quiet front garden and sleep.
I probably would have died from exposure.
Probably happens a lot every winter.
But this fella, hail him, a septuagenarian no less, decides to row five kilometres across the particularly busy and choppy Øresund, to his Swedish home. Not content with this feat of seamanship, I like best the fact that he gave up along the way and entrusted his fate to the tides and currents.
The Danes are loving this story, I am sure, given their penchant for slagging the Swedes and their drinking habits. But I think this man should be commended for his initiative. The Danes, I am sure, would have considered it for six months, hired a brace of overpaid consultants to investigate it, and then ask the world and his wife if it was ok.