I’m at a seaside resort on the Mediterranean. There are sunbathers on rocks and a tram leading to the hotel that sometimes functions as a roller coaster…mostly on the trip down from the hotel to the beach.

I’m joining the Navy. My father will be proud that I’m working on an early submarine. I tell him which one it is and he warns me about all the dangers of those particular boats.

I’m attending the training session with the other trainees. We’re all wearing Edwardian swimwear, sitting on benches around a table.

The submarine is older than I thought. It predates enclosed submarines. The submariners sit in a row on a board with indentations for their thighs. Another board is locked across the tops of their thighs and they are each handed an oar. They must paddle to propel the craft forward, and surface every once in a while so they can breathe.

The woman administering the program asks me why I want to be a part of it.

I reply that I want to produce films and feel that the military will give me the discipline and character I need. She says I don’t need the military to do that. I already have enough experience and am ready to make films if I really want to.   ¶ 09:42