Over this long trip, I have watched Hugh pursue ships and soccer with passion. Hugh goes deep into his chosen subject. Only when you are with him all day, every day, can you share the richness, the full experience. It is like a solar eclipse.
Playing soccer is, for Hugh, more important than eating. I know this because he routinely skips school lunch to hit the pitch. When we excavate the bottom of his bag, we find fossilised layers of lunches passed over for a pass.
On this trip, we have bought two balls and borrowed more to give Hugh something to kick. He is never happier than when he is playing soccer. He runs himself into a red-faced, sweaty, panting zealot. Hugh does not stop playing once started - darkness, school bells and parents must intervene.
But here's the thing. That single-minded pursuit of the ball has repeatedly seen Hugh overcome shyness and language to play with kids in London, at Statenschool and in Dubbeldam. In each place, he has become part of a team. He knows the names of his team mates, their strengths and weaknesses, shares the excitement of each goal. As we walk the squares, shops and markets of Dordrecht, kids approach to say hello to Hugh, or shout 'engels' across the square. Soccer is social.
'Hugh' is not an easy name for the Dutch to pronounce - it becomes 'Kew' - close enough for Hughie. To see him racing around to cries of Kew! Kew! and high-fiving his brand new team mates has been a revelation.
His new and growing passion for cruise ships is more solitary, but equally absorbing. He knows the dimensions and capabilities of the world's largest liners and their ranking. He understands the impediments to their design as global roamers - a New York Bridge, the Panama Canal, an English harbour. He is across plans for new liners and those under construction.
He has begun to design his own ships, sketching them during quiet moments and stuffing the dog-eared drawings into my bag. He knows that there is a profession called naval architect. He plans to become one. He has lightly joined the dots between education and career. He talks incessantly, excitedly about all of these things. To me. He assumes that this passion is shared. I try not to disillusion him.
Last night, he asked me what I would dream about. It was his polite prelude to telling me that he was planning to dream about cruise liners. Sweet dreams!
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