It was a respectable ten minutes past nine when I awoke and reached for my watch to ascertain the time. With the sea somewhat rough yesterday, I had taken a seasickness tablet before going to bed, not only to negate the possible effects of mal de mer, but also induce drowsiness and thus aid a decent sleep. Apparently, this worked rather well!
Nobody had informed me that the water supply to my part of the ship was to be cut off from 9am to noon. Fortunately, I had taken a shower the previous evening, and could get ready for the day immediately. I made it in time for my usual breakfast, followed by the Interdemoninational church service in the Royal Court Theatre, re-purposed as a place of worship. As on QM2 there were numerous extracts from the Book of Common Prayer albeit rewritten in a slightly more up-to-date English. There was a good attendance and the “congregation” were in good voice for the usual choice of hymns….Morning has Broken, Praise my Soul the King of Heaven, and the inevitable Eternal Father, Strong to Save. There was no sermon, but a heartfelt and very well expressed prayer for immediate peace in Ukraine could not have been better offered.
I finished writing yesterday’s blog this morning, a fourth day of uninspiring grey, misty and now unexpectedly cool weather, which sees me wondering why a more southerly and perhaps warmer route could not have been taken. I must remember however, that I know nothing of the workings of cruise ships, and accept that what- ever takes place is the most appropriate. For three days, the main open decks have been cordoned off; outside it remains grey and misty, the sea perhaps a little above moderate.
I remained in my seat after the service as the theatre was transformed into a lecture hall. I stayed for the illustrated talk, one of a series covering the history of space exploration. This morning’s presentation focused on a history catastrophic accidents and their causes. The subject was fascinating but I found it hard to keep up with his style of presentation.
I returned to my room. Posted through my door, was an A5 sized note dated Saturday announcing with regret that the water would be turned off between 9am and noon. That’s the second letter I have received after the event! I took a shower, had a now much needed shave, and feeling belatedly refreshed, I went up stairs for a light lunch, prior to a booked photo lesson on how to understand the facilities my camera has to offer.
My “photography lesson” turned out not to be the one-to-one run through of my small but complicated Lumix tz80 camera, but a class attended by me and two others. This was a very well presented “refresher” on the principles of “ordinary” photography, which I have known since having a 35mm S.L.R. camera, of which I have owned several models. For years, I have been “lazy” with my picture taking, putting the camera in auto and letting it “do the thinking for me.” However, the Photo Gallery Manageress did give me good instruction on how to access the part of my camera she was covering in her lesson. This was a useful hour and twenty minutes.
Outside remains “out of bounds” although with a trailing wind, the ship is much more stable. I had promised myself to stay away from the daily Afternoon Tea served by white gloved waiters in the Queens Room. Only having had a light lunch, and not going for dinner until 8.30pm, I felt justified in indulging in this revived and now, quite fashionable refreshment. The entertaining pianist was superb and came across as thoroughly enjoying exhibiting his musical prowess.
No sooner was Afternoon Tea was drawing to a close than the Queens Room was being set up for Clarendon Art presentation on the wild life artist David Shepherd, who also is up there among the finest of railway artists, too. It was this presenter who spoke so well about L.S. Lowry a couple of days ago. This talk did, however, morph into a not irritating sales pitch for other fascinating and superb wild life pictures available for purchase in the Clarendon Art Gallery, which I do have to say is very tasteful with an ever changing selection of pictures and sculptures on show. I didn’t adjourn to the Gallery for a tour around, knowing that even if I could afford to “invest” I have little or no wall space at home. Instead, I chose to find a seat in the spectacular Commodore Club on Deck 10 with more hugely expansive forward and side views. Here, I would relax on a forward facing light cream leather sofa and sip on a … decaff latte!
It’s 18.52 hrs and I’m still listening to the pianist in the Commodore Club. Now, I felt the real benefit of relaxing for a few days. The day has gone well as people come, enjoy a pre-dinner drink and then leave for their evening. And much to my pleasant surprise, pre-dinner canapés were offered.
My cabin, albeit high up and almost as forward as it’s possible to be, and thus more vulnerable to turbulence, has turned out very nicely. There is just about no noise from neighbours on either side. There is plenty of room on the balcony, and Larry, the Cabin Steward is extremely good and reliable. But strangely, and unexpectedly, I have had the occasional pang of home-sickness. Not today, however, and hopefully in July, I will not be glad to be returning home after 74 days! But now, it’s time to prepare for dinner. I do hope that the outside decks will be open tomorrow; I am beginning to fall behind in my walking schedule!
Many thanks for reading, David, 19.15hrs Commodore Club.
David's Cruise 