He is always dressed in white. He is not an Australian.

His white uniform is immaculate. It fits him like a glove. Never too tight, or too showy, but always suggesting there is a very fit body underneath. His skin is dark, his hair even darker, his teeth as white as his uniform. He looks hot, and he knows it.

His name is Veeranna Gugulothu (trying saying that in a moment of passion) and he is Indian.

This is not good.

Those of you who have been following our adventures over the years know that we have spent some time in India, and you may also remember that when ever we do, Gordon has to fight off the Indian men. They buzz around him like flies on…….. oh, wait, that is the wrong analogy. They are attracted to him like bees to honey. They love the fair skin, but most of all they love his blond hair. I try telling them it is out of a bottle, but it has no effect. I am used to people finding Gordon attractive, but when it is an entire nation (and one of the most populous at that) it gets a little irritating. Last time we were there he was mobbed. They thought he was Tom Cruise. I mean, come on! Tom Cruise!

Veeranna Gugulothu is a little on the short side, and a little on the handsome side. He has a full beard and mustache which he keeps short and well trimmed, a bit like himself. He doesn’t do the same for his eyebrows, which seem to weigh heavily on his forehead, causing it to droop a little over his eyes. His skin has blemishes. OK, I am being petty. But if the man has faults, I am going to point them out!

He is a security officer on board and every time we get on or off the ship he is there, looking rather stern, with flat brown eyes that remain alert but expressionless as he checks everyone through security. There is nothing to suggest he might be gay. But I know immediately he is going to be trouble. I recognise the signs. The first time he sets eyes on Gordon, his brown eyes light up and fill with sparkles, his mouth spreads into a huge smile, a star bounces off the front tooth. His masculinity disappears and is replaced by a soft, “take me I am yours” look. Those are the signs! They are not hard to miss.

For a moment he is speechless. Then he says “I love your hair”

He really does say that!

I want to slap him. Surely he can do better than that. Thousands of other Indians have used that line. Come up with something more original, for God’s sake. But right now, he seems incapable of thinking of anything else. Gordon passes through the security check while Veeranna Gugulothu just stares at him. I can’t keep calling him Veeranna Gugulothu, it is too time consuming, and really tests my typing skills. From now on I will refer to him as VG. He will think it stands for Very Good. Let him! I, and now you, know it stands for “very girly”. Perfect!

Once Gordon has been checked through security, it is my turn. VG’s eyes shut down, the teeth disappear, the sparkles have gone along with the star. He doesn’t acknowledge my existence. Not even a mention about my fabulous hair. He really is a most disagreeable young man.

The next day he is waiting for us (well, not “us” exactly!) with anticipation. The moment Gordon comes into sight he goes into puppy dog action mode, wagging his tail furiously and jumping up and down with excitement. I keep expecting him to hump Gordon’s leg. He flicks imaginary long blond hair out of his eyes and laughs. Gordon does the same with his imitation blond and not very long hair. They share a moment. I throw up in the corner!

I then notice the name tag he is wearing. It has his name (how else would I know how to spell it) and underneath it says “Master at Arms”. I assume it is some sexual term that I am not aware of. He doesn’t look as if he is the Master of anything, let alone his arms, that tend to fly in all directions when Gordon is in the vicinity.

We are on the ship for 21 days, and every one of those days we go ashore, and every time we go ashore VG is there. And he gets more “VG” every time. He flirts outrageously. He is one of four security officers that check us all on and off the ship. The other three soon become very aware of the situation. It is hard not to. After a few days they nudge each other as we approach and start giggling. It is not standard behaviour for security officers. VG is so intent on Gordon, he doesn’t notice them and he certainly doesn’t notice me. I could walk by with a machine gun over my shoulder carrying a box of grenades and I still wouldn’t get his attention.

Twenty one days have gone by and it is time to leave the ship. I suddenly realise that I have been witnessing blog material every day and haven’t done anything about it. I need a photograph. As we disembark, VG actually tells Gordon how sad he is. “The ship will seem so empty without you” he says, “and I will be so lonely”. OMG! He has read way too many bodice ripping romantic novels. Perhaps he is a Barbara Cartland fan. The initials VG certainly fit.

Trying hard not to barf all over him, I suggest I take their photo.

“OH, that would be WONDERFUL” says VG, in full VG mode. He stands next to Gordon, desperately trying to look professional and desperately trying not to touch him. But he can’t resist a little primping. It takes a while. Then, placing his sunglasses carefully on top of his head so as not to mess up his hair, he says ” I am ready for my close up, Mr De Mille”, or at least I wish he had said that. I don’t tell him his glasses are a little crooked

I take the photo

He thanks me profusely, and then says

“And who are you?”

He really is a most disagreeable young man.