Luxurious, but not exactly restful.
Disclaimer – The luxury industry doesn’t tend to go in for humor.
We, however, do. Welcome to Pioneer Chronicles.
I get up.
Impeccable, as ever. My hair is a force of nature.
With a fluid movement, I slide my muscular yet graceful frame out of bed.
Resting between my sheets is the young slovenian model I seduced last night at the Sky Bar.
Generously, I let her sleep on.
I drink my espresso, which has magically appeared. I sip, looking at the view from my villa above the clouds.
Gazing at the horizon, I dream.
I feel the need to confront the elements.
In a flash, I’m speeding down the road. My outfit in perfect keeping.
I’ve indulged my penchant for beige nubuck driving mittens, which chime delightfully with my matching belt.
What can I say? Just one of life’s little pleasures.
Dignified, focussed and with wild intensity, I listen to Wagner at top volume while navigating the hairpin bends of a desert mountain road. I am a sensitive soul, a sophisticated animal.
Look at me now. I am at the top of a cliff with my son.
No idea why he’s here, it must be in the script.
They’ve chosen a young actor who vaguely resembles me.
We are bare-foot, open-shirted, ecstatic to be together.
With a knowing look, we jump off the cliff as one.
I’d go to the ends of the earth for this kid.
Deep inside, I hope he’ll surpass me one day.
But, let’s be honest – given where I’m at, that’ll be hard.
Just this week I aced a single-handed yacht race, sledged to the North Pole, and devoured a few thousand miles of mountain paths. All with Wagner blasting out.
So – good luck, kid.
And good luck to you too, who’d like to be me…
Though I wouldn’t advise it – it’s a lot of pressure.