I live on a ship. It is a big ship. There are beds, staircases, a dining room and even a bit of levity in the few waking moments we are onboard.
We wake up at 5:30am every morning. After a quick breakfast we strap on our life vests and head for the door. We walk down the gang plank, grab on to the rails and lower ourselves into a waiting lifeboat.
The life vests tend to restrict the amount you can turn your head so conversation is kept to a minimum. As we motor away toward the shore we perspire, some sleep and catch glimpses of the fishermen in their small wooden canoes.