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Eyjafjallajokull made me do it. Eyjafjallajokull is not some obscure name for the devil from the apocryphal gospel of Skippy. Eyjafjallajokull is an Icelandic volcano that scrambled air travel in 2010. I was corrupted by Eyjafjallajokull better than Beelzebub himself could have done. Eyjafjallajokull introduced me to sailing, indirectly. Since then my finances have suffered, my once promising career has stalled. I am less public minded, and I am absent from home more. Eyjafjallajokull induced me to travel to the Bahamas by the slowest means of travel known to man. the sailboat. Nevertheless, the sailboat is fast compared to waiters in Paris. I had spent the last two big vacations in Paris struggling to become more cultured. When Eyjafjallajokull spewed its wrath onto the ionosphere, we were thinking of going there for a third year. Our European vacation plans seemed risky with air travel to the old world interrupted by the eruption of a volcano that no-one could pronounce. With our plans to soak up European culture in a fortnight covered in ashes, we refocused our attention on soaking up the sun. It was our last big vacation as a childless couple. My wife was pregnant with our daughter. Any future vacations were going to revolve around cartoon mice. This one had better be good...