The current of the Gulf’s familiar waters slapped against our yellow boat, with a lulling cadence as we drifted quietly off shore. The tiny boat was a speck of bright yellow in a swirling sea of blue, like Vincent’s starry night. In the near silence we scanned the water searching the firmament for fins. A pod of dolphins exploded on to our quiet scene. The tribe we had been searching for had arrived. The family of dolphins escorted a curious young calf, who came within touching distance of our hands and hearts again and again. A playful tiny fin ascended breathtakingly close as her tribe danced around us in leaps and bounds. A divine moment captured by two souls floating on a star, adrift in the ultramarine sanctuary of Florida’s forgotten saints. The exhilarating feeling and delightful memory of meeting that dolphin calf and her tribe are tucked away in my heart. The moment perfectly captured with a composition by Hans Zimmer’s ‘Surfing Dolphins’. A composition created for one of nature’s greatest gentleman, but I secretly claim it for myself. Wherever I am on this beautiful planet, I keep that little dolphin folded up inside of me, through landlocked cold English winters in the shadows of spires. All along my path she is there, connecting me to the barefoot rank that I am better for. A gift to carry with me from home, wherever I roam. Happy Friday from our home to yours.