Richard Branson - Losing My Virginity

Much more than just a memoir, this is Richard Bransons own take on his extraordinary life so far and a definitive business guide that reveals his unique philosophy on commerce, success and life.

Richard looks back on how Virgin grew from a mail-order music business into the global brand it is today, and how, rather like his balloon flights, the years have been as much about endurance and survival as they have been about runaway success. He shares the inside story of his latest projects in the areas of health, the environment and the media, as well as his reflections on his own intrepid adventures and family life.

From the $25 million Virgin Earth Challenge to the launch of Virgin Galactic, this is a powerful and unique inside look into the life of an iconic global entrepreneur.

Richard Branson is chairman of the Virgin Group. He was born in 1950 and educated at Stowe School, where he set up Student magazine when he was sixteen years old. In 1970 he founded Virgin as a mail order record retailer, and shortly afterwards opened a record shop on Londons Oxford Street. Two years later the company built a recording studio and Virgin Records went on to become one of the top six record companies in the world.

Since then the Virgin Group has expanded to encompass around two hundred companies in over thirty countries. Richard is the only person in the world to have built eight billion-dollar companies from scratch in eight different sectors. He recently established the $25 million Virgin Earth Challenge and has pledged 200 million for renewable energy projects. Through the Virgin Groups charitable arm, Unite, Richard is working to develop new approaches to social and environmental problems.

Richards autobiography, Losing My Virginity , and his books on business, Screw It, Lets Do It and Business Stripped Bare , are all international bestsellers. He lives on Necker Island in the British Virgin Islands and is married with two grown-up children.

www.richardbranson.com

Grabs you on page one and never lets go read what makes this brilliant and hardworking man tick Spectator

Candid and humorous The Times

An incredible man, and this is an incredible autobiography a great read sex, balloons, intrigue and money Sunday Business

For anyone burning with entrepreneurial zeal, his reminiscences are akin to a sacred text Mail on Sunday

Branson bares his soul and everything else in a non-fiction blockbuster a must-read Business Age

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.