I’ve been on frigates, destroyers, aircraft carriers, submarines, landing craft, even Sharm dive boats, and survived. I’ve driven boats with inboards, outboards, 8 oars and four, prop engines, jet engines, ‘z’ drives, and even, on one occasion, steam. Wooden boats, metal boats, rubber boats and plastic. But there’s one craft that has always eluded me. The most romantic, macho, gung-ho form of travel known to sea-faring man. You just can’t beat a good, old fashioned Pirate Ship. It’s that whole Johny Depp costume drama thing. Clothes maketh the man, my wise old grandmother used to say, in that wise old grandmotherly way they have. Put a Yorkshireman in a suit and he can talk, she said. Intelligently. Not for long, mind, but it proves the point. Go for a 3 hour deco dive anytime but mid-summer and you’ll be wanting a dry suit, preferably with accessories. 3 hours is a long time to keep your legs crossed. However, a 45 minute spin around Shark Reef in July and even I would cut back to a 5mm semi-dry. Some dress to impress with titanium reinforced pumped up batman suits, whilst others strut their stuff in colour coded catsuits.  For the ultimate in underwater style and panache, there are the latex second skins with zero drag coefficient favoured by the free diving fraternity, not to be confused with the latex second skins favoured by the drag fraternity.

Strolling along the beach with my 5 year old, Max, looking for crabs, we witnessed the full spectrum of beachwear within 500 yards. Starting with bits of string held together by other bits of string, building up to one triangle of material, then three, through one-pieces, with and without frills, all the way up to a walking tent - which made us both jump - the varieties of beachwear on display were astounding. Now call me brazen, but I am unashamedly a Speedo man. There is no option. I’m lazing around, on the beach or by the pool, hot and sweaty, in and out of the water. Who needs clothes? Convention requires a covering for modesties sake. Not a tent, or even a pair of cool dude surfer shorts flapping about all sandy and sticky. No. Speedos are the way to go. They’re the dress for the job. Beachware at its finest.

We did, eventually find some crabs. Max chased one to a big stone, turned it over, and there they were. A heaving mass of borrowed shells housing around 50 hermit crabs of all shapes and sizes. We gazed at them in awe, a mini metropolis, thriving under a stone in Sharm El Maya. What do they know of beach fashion. Just before we put the stone back, Max asked me, “Why are they wearing other people’s shells?” ”Because they don’t make Speedos their size” I replied.