David's Cruise

I have much to do today as Queen Victoria continues ploughing eastward through  another 50 shades of grey turbulent Atlantic.  Tomorrow evening, we enter U.K. waters.

I have arranged to be coached as far as Knutsford Services on Friday. However, the last twenty five miles to Buxton could prove problematic. But I now learn that we shall all be checked for Coronavirus before leaving the ship. That means my local taxi firm will be able to collect me from the coach drop-off point. Now to continue the packing.

During whist today, I thought I might receive applause for the highest score. But, the last two hands were abysmal; it was somebody else’s turn to walk tall with a sky high tally.

Some days ago, well over a week, I was advised by my friend and neighour to sign up for on-line shopping in view of a possible lock-down of the UK. I did try, and so did a good acquaintance on board. So far, no luck.

The atmosphere on board is holding up remarkably well, although many will be ready to leave on their chosen day at the end of the week. My enthusiasm for the final Captain’s final cocktail party has, for me, evaporated as I jig-saw my clothing and souvenirs into not enough space in an attempt to avoid a last minute panic before leaving the ship on Friday. I have made a reasonable start on the packing, with hopefully, very little to do on Thursday night of the last day. 

Apparently, before we leave the ship, we shall all be screened for coronavirus, which means that taxi companies will, or should pick up passengers. I hope that is the case.

The voyage really is drawing to a close as perhaps 1500 passengers head for an uncertain future. Coronavirus has become a global crisis of catastrophic consequence, and unfortunately, it was right that our prime minister has introduced draconian regulations for all of us. Perhaps, he may be remembered for stopping Coronavirus in its tracks, and the world can build up to normality sooner rather than later. When we departed from Southampton to that splendid firework display, I just figured that we would return at the end of March anticipating the next cruise or whatever. My grand finale, another train/ship/air tour around the world was all in hand, hotels booked, best seats on the trains secured, and a Business Class flight home from Tokyo “in the bag.”

I want to mention again my table companions who welcomed me shortly after the start of the voyage, and those I started this incredible journey with. (Continued 08.30 hrs Wednesday 25th March) On that first table in the Britannia Restaurant, Robin, Lisa and Sarah (who joined later in the cruise), June, Margaret, Maggie, Peter and Liz. Although I relocated to join people I knew from a previous voyage, I still got to enjoy all your company and throughout the voyage. And Table 357, Aiden & Jose, Viv and Ginnie, Brian and Kate, Janet, and, of course, travelling companion, Jo. Both were brilliant tables to dine at, throughout this what has to be, unique voyage.

Most of us are leaving the ship on Friday, the day after its scheduled noon arrival at Southampton. Thanks for reading, David.

Captain Tomas in today’s noon day address announced, at the stroke of noon, the ship’s time was to be advanced another hour, now just one behind G.M.T.  He went on to say that there would be two more noon day announcements, tomorrow and Wednesday. At around 21.00 hrs on Wednesday, we would be off the coast of Lands End, he went on to say. The sea would calm down a little and tomorrow the air temperature would reach a staggering high of 12 degrees Celsius, down two degrees on today. Local time on my phone remains (now) three hours behind.

As Blighty becomes an inevitable reality, I ponder how each of those on the ship are contemplating their respective futures once released from the safe environs of a coronavirus free M.V. Queen Victoria.  The singers, the dancers, the crew so far away from their homes, the celebrity speakers, Neil Kelly who as Entertainment Director  works tirelessly to maintain and succeed in maintaining normality and a still punishing (for the performers) schedule right to the end; what awaits them as they venture towards home? I do wonder.

The seas are tempestuous today, “50 Shades of Grey” fail to colour-wash a colourless misty ocean and sky-scape.

And right now, I am not doing too badly at whist.  There is mild excitement about my donation of red wine from a Chilean Winery and a bottle of Cunard issued champagne which is maligned regularly on social media, or, so I am told!  I chose to award the latter to the player with the lowest score after some debate about the men having an unfair advantage. The top score was shared by a man and a lady, the latter cutting the highest  card in a “deciding draw.” 

A reduced afternoon tea in the Queens Room makes for a civilised half hour or so after the whist drive. A lonely pianist entertains from the stage of the Queens Room, but the once packed afternoon tea just has a comfortable number of people enjoying the quiet elegance. The pianist is unobtrusive as he serenades the “tea-takers” with a mild jazz background.

Today is very peaceful. I am now in the quiet of the Commodore Club where, last night, Jo, Viv, Ginnie and I had adjourned after another ear piercing Show Time, which actually started off well before becoming louder as the evening progressed. That made for another 01.30 hrs bed time from which I emerged duly heavy-eyed, and I doubt being at my best for whist this afternoon, which, because of the time change is an hour earlier. But now, it’s time for a quick bite to eat….while the going is good!

There seems to be an increasing reluctance to disembark at the end of the week. Cunard transfers will take the (soon to become) former passengers to known destinations and an unknown future. Today, Queen Victoria is ploughing through swells I am led to believe are between 4 and 5 metres. Through a Queens Room picture window, the ocean doesn’t invite! Just two days separates us from the English Channel.

I have liased with the excellent firm which looks after my house. Shopping and laundry can be taken care of, but I shall have to do my own housework.

This morning, I went along to book a hair cut, assuming no barbers will be working back home. Too late, I am at the bottom of a huge waiting list!  

Tonight, Boris Johnson addressed the nation, effectively putting the U.K. on lock-down. That has scuppered my neighbour’s very generous offer to pick me up from Southampton. I don’t in any way blame our prime minister, the situation is unprecedented and worsening rapidly.

First thing tomorrow, I shall have to find transport to the north. I hope there are still seats on the coach to Knutsford. The picture I won at the charity auction will now have to be sent by carrier.

Not everything has fallen apart, yet. I just hope, we all hope, that the virus can be defeated, and soon. Strange times are ahead.

Thanks for reading, David 23/3/20. 23.15hrs.

I did enjoy myself last night, with back-to-back music, punctuated by that nice risotto in the Lido. My intended early night failed to materialise yet again; as ever, I felt compelled to complete the day’s blog, and I finally put the lights out at 01.30hrs. This time, I took seasickness medication to not only stave off the initial signs of “mal-de- mer” but also ensure a good sleep. The north Atlantic was rough last night, as if my bed had been attached to a fairground ride! I did eventually get off to a good “kip” and awoke suitably refreshed, and only just in time for the church service, with special dated hymn sheet.

But, today is one of those nondescript periods on a colourless Atlantic Ocean and a reminder that days of breakfast on the warm open decks must be by now, a thing of the past. Jo joined me, unexpectedly, for the service. She felt that she “ought to go today!” We parted company after post church breakfast, and noon today finds me on Deck 1 penning this epistle.

The sea is less tempestuous now, but the mist from the ocean restricts what there is to see out there. I suspect only the hardy are out walking the deck; maybe I shall join them.

Tonight is the penultimate Gala night where formal attire is the mandated dress code. A red bow tie makes its debut with my white tuxedo, which shall make its final appearance.

I think almost all of us are now ready to go home now, but I am in two minds. While on board, I am, by default as is everybody else, “self isolating” from this ghastly coronavirus pandemic, and I don’t need to do anything differently apart from wash my hands obsessively and maintain personal hygiene; that was always the case on board ship.

My only slight regret is that because our port of call in the Azores was cancelled, we were re-routed via a shorter northern track where warm weather is a rarity even during the summer. There may be one final decent day as we pass over the path of the Gulf Stream.  That has been a pleasant surprise on previous winter transatlantic crossings.

I can’t put it off any longer, I need to make a headway on the packing! Thanks, as always, for reading, David : 12.51 hrs Sunday 22nd March 2020.

And the Captain, in his noon day speech, requested passengers to look out for icebergs! I did not find that particularly funny.

It is often remarked on board, that we are in a luxurious “bubble” with normal food service, swimming pools, gym, spas, movies, shows, a fortune-draining casino, hairdressers, shops, and accommodation serviced daily by the very hard working cabin personnel. As far as I know, Coronavirus has not broken out on board, and until Friday we remain safe from the apocalyptic events the world is (rather too late) coming to grips with.

It had to happen, this year’s Buxton Festival is cancelled, the Opera House already closed. I doubt any rail-tours are running. Churches, restaurants, pubs, football matches all closed down, or cancelled, temporarily, I hope most sincerely.  

Roger, I feel, is taking a big risk driving down to Southampton on Friday, the day just about all of us has decided leave the ship, and then, drive me back to Buxton “non-stop.”

The north Atlantic has turned grey and the modest swell is merely reminding me of the ocean’s potential volatility. It’s still 16 degrees Celsius, 8 in London, which I am led to believe is now almost deserted. Again I am heavy eyed and plan to just relax and maybe start packing.  It has got to be done sometime.

Just now, the clocks were advanced a further hour, thus reducing the risk of my ringing or texting somebody in the middle of the night. Just two hours separate us from G.M.T.  Local time on my phone however remains two hours earlier at 11.15.

Looking back, we have been extraordinarily fortunate on this voyage. Instead of heading east into the virus crisis, we struggled west across the north Atlantic keeping several steps ahead of the pandemic even before it was declared as such. We have called at all but four of our scheduled ports of call in which I do include our not being allowed off the ship in Fort Lauderdale. We were then to become “express to Southampton.” Queen Victoria is now a long way north of it’s much warmer intended route via the Azores, so much so that at 13.48 hrs ship time we passed over the final resting place of the ill fated White Star Liner, Titanic.

Cunard staff continue to work tirelessly to ensure its passengers are occupied, fed and entertained throughout the day and evening. Tonight, the Royal Court Theatre Orchestra turned blues band in the Golden Lion Pub and were magnificent. Pianist Carl Nuschi (who sometimes joins us for whist in the afternoon) started off an early Show Time in the Royal Court Theatre with a complete performance of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata followed by a Chopin Impromptu with uncanny similarities to the Beethoven as pointed out by the pianist. The ” jury is out” on a rendition of Ode to Joy, a much truncated adaptation for three and at times four pianists of the final movement of Beethoven’s Choral Symphony No. 9 in D minor. Resident Duo, “Piano a Deux became “Piano a Trois for the “Ode to Joy” during which time, a member of the audience made it a “Piano a Quatre!” Everybody else thought this was brilliant, but I merely thought it “clever.” (I can be a miserable git at times!) Tonight was a full evening; rhythm and blues in the Golden Lion, a light meal on Deck 9 (I had a freshly cooked in front of my eyes chicken risotto, Jo a seafood version of the same), the Crew Show in the Royal Court, and finally back to the Golden Lion Pub for more brassy blues from seven members of the Royal Court Theatre Orchestra.

Most of the day, I had felt lousy; a bit of mild seasickness and overly tired. I managed not to win at whist this afternoon, but felt much better after a lie down in my darkened cabin. Hopefully, I shall sleep well tonight and not miss the church service I forgot to attend last Sunday. I still intend to make the very most of these final sea days; they could be the last for some time!

I am always delighted when I know that some people are following my daily writings, but must acknowledge these cannot always be up-beat, and that while I endeavour to write well, my best can fall short at times. What my blog does for me is to act as reminder of the extraordinary days of world wide travelling since my retirement in 2017, and hopefully, provide an entertaining “take” on my recent experiences for anybody who wishes, to enjoy.

David 00.53 : 22/3/20.

Unexpectedly this morning, my balcony became a sun trap defying the miserable 16 degrees Celsius that had been forecast. Sunglasses and suntan lotion were essential. But, I have discarded the shorts, unlike many of my fellow passengers in denial about ever decreasing temperatures!  It may be clouding over, but at almost 11.30hrs, it’s still a lovely day. Right now, in the Lido on Deck 9, I am looking down from a window seat facing aft, port side, to the ocean below with occasional rainbows created momentarily by the sun’s rays passing through the sea-spray. Jo is seated opposite, alternating between contacting her family on her cell phone and and admiring the sea scape I suspect we shall both long for after a week or two of “wondered about self isolation!”

I had been awake since around 7am with every intention of deck-walking before and after breakfast.  But, all of a sudden, it was past 9am.  I did enjoy a few precious moments on the balcony, by now a much underused part of my stateroom, except as a great vantage point from which to take photographs and videos.

For days, I have thought about packing, and while the day in port will provide ample opportunity, I shall want to spend much that time then, making the very most of my final hours on board M.V. Queen Victoria.

This afternoon, after lunch, I shall find a home for the champagne that has accumulated as a result of my earlier birthday celebrations.  We shall “quaff the lot” during an inebriated  (I hope!) whist drive.  Apart from continually being dealt seemingly lousy hands, I now enjoy these afternoon whist sessions. I shall then join a quiz team in the Golden Lion. 

Aiden and Jose are opening their brand new cabin to their table companions and a few friends, for pre dinner drinks, a kind of cabin warming party albeit at the wrong end of this voyage!  The ceiling had collapsed in their previous accommodation adding to Aiden’s general dissatisfaction with the ship.

(Written the following morning, 21/3/20 from 07.30hrs) I missed the afternoon quiz; for some reason, I had not slept well the previous night and had been feeling “heavy-eyed” all day. After playng whist most of the afternoon, I took a short break in my stateroom before going up to the Lido for a snack. Sea-sick medication and a swig of champagne during whist didn’t help, really. I “bumped into” Jo and for a short while, we had conversation at a table by the window. But, she had commenced packing, and needed to continue. I sat alone, but not for long.

Adrian, who used to sit at our table for dinner, but had to transfer to an adjacent table when joined at Ft. Lauderdale by his brother and sister-in-law, in January, came over to sit where Jo had been. Adrian, I would discover early in this voyage, had lost his wife, Marion, very unexpectedly during the QM2 World Voyage 2018 on which I, too, was a passenger. We would talk at some length, and I felt very moved at being entrusted with the Order of Service of the commemoration which occurred shortly afterwards.

Aiden and Jose’s “cabin warming” was a joyous event, and (although not by me), much champagne was “sunk”, I did manage half a glass. Dinner followed in the Britannia Restaurant and the conversation was lively and convivial. We adjourned, some of us to the Show Time featuring three over amplified singers backed by not only the Royal Court Theatre Orchestra, but also the Queens Room Orchestra, the resident string trio, and harpist. I had seen this sort of thing on previous voyages and although excellent, I was deafened and underwhelmed. Jo suggested sitting further back on future occasions. She is correct in that the sound is not evenly spread in the theatre. After the show, it was time to part company and write the day’s blog. I was too tired, and finished it this morning at around 10.00 hrs.

Thanks for reading. David. 21st March, 10am. We advance another hour at noon, bringing us just two hours behind G.M.T. That means I won’t be ringing somebody in the middle of the night!

Our progress, ever north east across the Atlantic is evidenced by an increasing loss of temperature. Today, probably my last in shorts, I walked around the deck before and after breakfast. The ship’s internet seems not to be functioning although I think that I did manage to send a WhatsApp message today.

Last night, all passengers received a letter inviting them to choose which day to leave the ship next week. We shall be arriving on Thursday afternoon, and I shall be travelling to Buxton on Friday morning. Normally, we would stop for lunch on the way; those days have ended for the time being. In London and elsewhere, the Coronavirus is having a devastating impact. Optimists predict recovery from the end of May. Others I meet site May 2021 when recovery might begin.

I tried to enjoy Day 70 by attending some of the events on board. Robert Powell, delivered a very moving account of the life of Rudyard Kipling part of whose childhood was hell in the hands of a Christian foster family he had to endure from age six to twelve. For almost an hour, I was “not on the Queen Victoria” but, at a very serious lecture which was so well delivered, it could have been just for me. I had the rare feeling that I wished I enjoyed reading. My blogs would be far better. Kipling’s writings and poetry are like music. Only late in life do I appreciate really good English.

I am sad that the places I visited on this wonderful voyage are but a fading memory enhanced by my daily blog, photographs videos and baseball caps! Soon, I shall have to vacate cabin 5015, the “home” I became accustomed to almost instantly, looking out from my balcony across the Solent, back in January. I knew these last days would be emotional; what nobody expected was the global crisis which had started to manifest itself, unknown to me, as early as December. The way of life at home which I was so accustomed to will be vastly different a week from now.

There will be little to write about between now and next Friday, Day 77 when I leave the ship one day early. I do intend to write each day, nonetheless. I have been pleased to receive a few encouraging comments, and assurances that people have to a degree, have enjoyed reading my account of this phenomenal odyssey, a voyage that “ticked a whole host of boxes.” Its 1am now. Karaoke, after the Show Time wasn’t the hell I was expecting. Every volunteer singer was at least, very good indeed, some even worthy of their own show in the Royal Court Theatre! I’ve been busy today, and plan to be tomorrow.

Many thanks for reading, David: 01.05 hrs 20/3/20.

Another bonus gorgeous day with calm seas and a clear blue sky.  A slightly cooler breeze reminds us of our progress north east across the Atlantic. I am beginning to hear more from home as, according to my stateroom TV, the virus situation develops.  I am determined to maintain the good health I am enjoying; there’s no doubt that these days at sea from the middle of January have been most beneficial. Time for deck-walking. But first, tidy the room and prepare for packing. (This I have now done)

Jo, Aiden, Jose and I met for our complimentary lunch in the Stakehouse Verandah Restaurant midships on Deck 2. The meal, normally $25.00, but well worth the supplementary charge was of superior quality and presentation, and is complimentary to passengers who have amassed 150 nights or more on Cunard ships.

I started with a beetroot salad which as a child, I would have avoided like the plague. The sirloin stake with onion rings, spinach and gorgeous mashed potatoes made for a wonderful main course, followed by a plate of fresh strawberries.

After the lunch, Aiden took time out to suggest ways of avoiding contracting Coronavirus, much more than merely handwashing to two renditions of “Happy Birthday”, every ten minutes. Nobody must enter the house, all shopping wiped over. All this was meant to reassure me. Advice to use the Cruise Connect bus service to the North might be a sensible alternative to being driven home from Southampton. But I still like the port to my front door non-stop option my friend very kindly suggested. I am not keen on a hire car with its unfamiliar technology.

The day has gone quickly. I have bottles of champagne left over from my birthday. I decided to hold a champagne-whist afternoon in two days. That idea went down well!

Tonight, I get to look at the painting which was centrepiece at the Cunard Gala in Buenos Aires. I was determined that would end up in Buxton. The Art Gallery are taking very good care of it until I leave the ship. I am also after a pavement banner with the QV South America logo. I think there are at least two of these. Thankfully, despite the Coronavirus crisis, I still haven’t forgotten my collecting priorities!

I am not sure of my plans for tonight. I don’t fancy anything more than a snack before going to bed. Thanks for reading, David 19.16 hrs 18/3/20.

PS The Royal Court Orchestra had the stage to themselves tonight, delivering a stunning soul and Motown set of around an hour, earning a well deserved standing ovation. So good was their show we went to both performances. David 00.14hrs 19th March.

Another bonus gorgeous day with calm seas and a clear blue sky.  A slightly cooler breeze reminds us of our progress north east across the Atlantic. I am beginning to hear more from home as, according to my stateroom TV, the virus situation develops.  I am determined to maintain the good health I am enjoying; there’s no doubt that these days at sea from the middle of January have been most beneficial. Time for deck-walking. But first, tidy the room and prepare for packing. (This I have now done)

Jo, Aiden, Jose and I met for our complimentary lunch in the Stakehouse Verandah Restaurant midships on Deck 2. The meal, normally $25.00, but well worth the supplementary charge was of superior quality and presentation, and is complimentary to passengers who have amassed 150 nights or more on Cunard ships.

I started with a beetroot salad which as a child, I would have avoided like the plague. The sirloin stake with onion rings, spinach and gorgeous mashed potatoes made for a wonderful main course, followed by a plate of fresh strawberries.

After the lunch, Aiden took time out to suggest ways of avoiding contracting Coronavirus, much more than merely handwashing to two renditions of “Happy Birthday”, every ten minutes. Nobody must enter the house, all shopping wiped over. All this was meant to reassure me. Advice to use the Cruise Connect bus service to the North might be a sensible alternative to being driven home from Southampton. But I still like the port to my front door non-stop option my friend very kindly suggested. I am not keen on a hire car with its unfamiliar technology.

The day has gone quickly. I have bottles of champagne left over from my birthday. I decided to hold a champagne-whist afternoon in two days. That idea went down well!

Tonight, I get to look at the painting which was centrepiece at the Cunard Gala in Buenos Aires. I was determined that would end up in Buxton. The Art Gallery are taking very good care of it until I leave the ship. I am also after a pavement banner with the QV South America logo. I think there are at least two of these. Thankfully, despite the Coronavirus crisis, I still haven’t forgotten my collecting priorities!

I am not sure of my plans for tonight. I don’t fancy anything more than a snack before going to bed. Thanks for reading, David 19.16 hrs 18/3/20.

So, this is it. We are now steaming towards a very different Southampton to the vibrant city I left in January. Between tomorrow and docking on Thursday 26th January there are merely 10 sea days. An e-mail from my sister confirmed the dire situation we are heading into. I do hope I can have transport waiting for me; I fear far more luggage than I came with. This voyage has become a rare bubble isolated from all that is going on. Incidents of Coronavirus still seem small, and with luck, can be contained by things such as enforced isolation.

Ginnie, Jo and I attended “Be our Guest” at the Royal Court Theatre after dinner. Although highly skilled and energetic, it is on the loud side, spoiling it for Jo, who always puts a positive “spin” on everything. Neip, our Entertainment Director is determined to provide the best he is able to given the now limited resources.

It’s time for some sleep, and whatever the immediate future holds, I am determined to count my blessings and enjoy the last days as if they were the first

Good night, David, 00.04 the next day!.

We are on our way back to Southampton. See you soon, folks!

David