Virgin Group. - Losing My Virginity

Sir Richard Bransons amazing memoir, Losing My Virginity , is now updated to include the effect on the Virgin Group of 11 September, his views on the war in Iraq, the rise of Virgin Blue and the flotation of Virgin Mobile. Discover how Virgin is moving into the US domestic flight market and why he set up the charitable body Virgin Unite. As ever his thirst for challenge is unquenched: Sir Richard reveals the thrills of the world record attempt with the Virgin Atlantic Global Flyer and taking Virgin to the final frontier as Virgin Galactic is poised for a new era of commercial space travel.

Revealing Sir Richards unique story, his personal philosophy on life, the Virgin brand and business, Losing My Virginity is an autobiography without equal.

Prologue
Screw it. Lets do it.

A family that would have killed for each other.
19501963

You will either go to prison or become a millionaire.
19631967

Virgins at business
19671970

I am prepared to try anything once.
19701971

Learning a lesson
1971

Simon made Virgin the hippest place to be.
19711972

Its called Tubular Bells . Ive never heard anything like it.
19721973

To be second choice means nothing.
19741976

Never mind the bollocks
19761977

I thought Id move in, Joan said.
19761978

Living on the edge
19781980

Success can take off without warning.
19801982

You go ahead with this over my dead body.
19831984

Lakers children
1984

It was like being strapped to the blade of a vast pneumatic drill.
19841986

The worlds biggest balloon
19861987

I was almost certainly going to die.
19871988

Everything was up for sale.
19881989

Preparing to jump
19891990

Who the hell does Richard Branson think he is?
AugustOctober 1990

We would have about two seconds to say our last prayers.
November 1990January 1991

Flying into turbulence
JanuaryFebruary 1991

Dirty tricks
FebruaryApril 1991

I wouldnt do this for Madonna.
AprilJuly 1991

Sue the bastards.
SeptemberOctober 1991

Barbarians at the departure gate
OctoberNovember 1991

Theyre calling me a liar.
November 1991March 1992

Victory
March 1992January 1993

Virgin territory
19931998

Diversity and adversity
19982005

Appendix
Virgin group of companies corporate history

Screw it. Lets do it.

Tuesday 7 January 1997, Morocco

5.30a.m.

I WOKE BEFORE JOAN and sat up in bed. From across Marrakech I heard the wavering cry of the muezzins calling people to prayer over the loudspeakers. I still hadnt written to Holly and Sam, so I tore a page out of my notebook and wrote them a letter in case I didnt return.

Dear Holly and Sam,

Life can seem rather unreal at times. Alive and well and loving one day. No longer there the next.

As you both know I always had an urge to live life to its full. That meant I was lucky enough to live the life of many people during my 46 years. I loved every minute of it and I especially loved every second of my time with both of you and Mum.

I know that many people thought us foolish for embarking on this latest adventure. I was convinced they were wrong. I felt that everything we had learnt from our Atlantic and Pacific adventures would mean that wed have a safe flight. I thought that the risks were acceptable. Obviously Ive been proved wrong.

However, I regret nothing about my life except not being with Joan to finally help you grow up. By the ages of twelve and fifteen your characters have already developed. Were both so proud of you. Joan and I couldnt have had two more delightful kids. You are both kind, considerate, full of life (even witty!). What more could we both want?

Be strong. I know it wont be easy. But weve had a wonderful life together and youll never forget all the good times weve had.

Live life to its full yourselves. Enjoy every minute of it. Love and look after Mum as if shes both of us.

I love you,
Dad

I folded the letter into a small square and put it in my pocket. Fully clothed and ready, I lay down beside Joan and hugged her. While I felt wide awake and nervous, she felt warm and sleepy in my arms. Holly and Sam came into our room and cuddled into bed between us. Then Sam slipped off with his cousins to go to the launch site and see the balloon in which I hoped shortly to fly round the world. Joan and Holly stayed with me while I spoke to Martin, the meteorologist. The flight, he said, was definitely on we had the best weather conditions for five years. I then called Tim Evans, our doctor. He had just been with Rory McCarthy, our third pilot, and had bad news: Rory couldnt fly. He had mild pneumonia, and if he was in a capsule for three weeks it could get much worse. I immediately called up Rory and commiserated with him.

See you in the dining room, I said. Lets have breakfast.

6.20a.m.

By the time Rory and I met in the hotel dining room, it was deserted. The journalists who had been following the preparations for the launch over the previous 24 hours had already left for the launch site.

Rory and I met and hugged each other. We both cried. As well as becoming a close friend as our third pilot on the balloon flight, Rory and I had been joining forces recently on a number of business deals. Just before we had come out to Morocco, he had bought a share in our new record label, V2, and had invested in Virgin Clothes and Virgin Vie, our new cosmetics company.

I cant believe Im letting you down, Rory said. Im never ill never, ever.

Dont worry, I assured him. It happens. Weve got Alex, who weighs half what you do. Well fly far further with him on board.

Seriously, if you dont come back, Rory said, Ill carry on where you left off.

Well, thanks! I said, laughing nervously.

Alex Ritchie was already out at the launch site supervising the mad dash to get the capsule ready with Per Lindstrand, the veteran hot-air balloonist who had introduced me to the sport. Alex was the brilliant engineer who had designed the capsule. Until then, nobody had succeeded in building a system that sustained balloon flights at jet-stream levels. Although it was he who had built both our Atlantic and Pacific capsules, I didnt know him well, and it was too late to find out much about him now. Despite having no flight training, Alex had bravely made the decision to come with us. If all went well with the flight, wed have about three weeks to get to know each other. About as intimately as any of us would want.

Unlike my crossings with Per of the Pacific and Atlantic oceans by hot-air balloon, on this trip we would not heat air until we needed to: the balloon had an inner core of helium which would take us up. Pers plan was to heat the air around that core during the night, which in turn would heat the helium, which would otherwise contract, grow heavy and sink.

Joan, Holly and I held hands and the three of us embraced. It was time to go.

8.30a.m.

We all saw it at the same time. As we drove along the dirt road out to the Moroccan air base, it looked as if a new mosque had sprouted overnight. Above the bending, dusty palm trees, a stunning white orb rose up like a mother-of-pearl dome. It was the balloon. Men on horseback galloped along the side of the road, guns slung over their shoulders, heading for the air base. Everyone was drawn to this huge, gleaming white balloon hanging in the air, tall and slender.