AT SEA – BAY OF BISCAY
I was really a bit melancholy when I woke up this morning. The Bay of Biscay had lived up to it’s reputation, relatively speaking, and we had the roughest passage of our voyage on last evening and last night. Of course that got a chorus of complaints going from the whingers, but as I lay in bed in the early hours of the morning, enjoying the swoop and sway of the boat, with the occasional thump of an extra big wave, I realised that it was unlikely that we would ever experience this again.
I know I have said that kind of thing before over the years, but I believe that Rab has not enjoyed this trip as much as others and it is very unlikely that she would approve another sea voyage, especially on Marco Polo. She is still annoyed about their marketing policy which allows people making last minute bookings to gain superior accommodation, said to have been unavailable to us. Indeed, when I tried to get her to undertake the usual listing we have done on other holidays – best and worst experiences etc, she just said that the highlight was Stockholm with Lars and Gerd, which of course it was, no question there, but as to the rest, well it was OK, but……
The weather was certainly not bad enough to stop me packing – the bags had to be outside our cabin by midnight. We had bought very little on this trip, so space was no problem and I didn’t have to break out any of the emergency bags.
By the time we went up to the bistro for lunch, hail was beating against the windows and the back deck was white with it. Unusually for me, I didn't have my camera with me - usually it is like the Ancient Mariner's Albatross, hanging about my neck. Rab suggested I nip back to the cabin to pick it up and although I thought that would be a pretty hopeless task I did so. By the time I got back, the teeming rain had washed the deck clear. I tried to get a shot of the seas, which were pretty rough at the time, but it is extraordinarily difficult to do that, even with a movie.
The dress was "Formal" again for what was termed the 'Last Dinner' which probably sounded rather ominous to those suffering sea-sickness and who probably also feared that the ship would sink - one man in the bistro loudly declared that this was the worst holiday he had ever had and if he could have got off the ship there and then he would do so. He claimed that his wife had been sea sick for the past five days, which would have made her very sensitive to movement. But no doubt there are some such unfortunate souls.
We completed the packing and just read and wrote in the afternoon, amongst the snoozing passengers, before having an early meal in the bistro, thus escaping the formality of dress and enabling us to go to the early show in the theatre where Andy, the comedian was putting on his last show. Or at least we thought it was his last. We were amazed how many people, eating in the bistro, had dolled themselves up - collar, tie and jacket for the men, smart frocks for the ladies, even one floor length outfit. The man in the black singlet hadn't changed into his one with sleeves that he had worn on other formal evenings.
Andy was hilarious and we went to bed still chuckling at some of his material. It was good clean stuff - some just a little risqué but never enough to raise the ire of the blue rinses in the audience or even to cause them to cluc
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
AT SEA IN THE ENGLISH CHANNEL: TILBURY
I didn’t think I’d have a chance to complete this diary before we got home, but Rab was awake bright and early this morning and, because she hadn’t turned her watch back last night (we lost an hour from Central European Time to British Summer Time), was under the impression that it was an hour later than local time.
There were a couple of good events to enliven the afternoon yesterday. The singer, David and the two girls, Cait and the other one, whose name I can never recall, put on a show in Scott’s Bar after lunch singing a selection from various West End shows. They all have good voices, but ……once again the volume was unnecessarily high and we found it somewhat deafening. A pity because their choice of songs was good.
From there we went to a pleasant interview of Andy Rudge by Richard Sykes in the theatre. It was very entertaining and relaxing and amusing as they discussed various comics from years gone by, with good audience participation.
The last dinner came and went – unfortunately the salmon fillets which Rab and some of the others ordered turned out to be cutlets full of bones; Chris compared his pork to shoe leather and as complaints were exchanged, what I have enjoyed so much as a terrific voyage turned out to be less so for the others. Ah well, you can’t please them all!!
There were a couple of awkward moments with Chris, who is an odd-bod in many ways, because he took umbrage at a couple of things I said. I was deliberately not being confrontational since I was under strict riding orders for the entire voyage not to get argumentative. Nothing like a good argument in my book, but I am aware of the fact that I tend to sound much more aggressive (and perhaps even contemptuous?) than feel when engaged, so from Rab’s point of view, it is better to just swallow and refrain.
So in the spirit of this, when he told an extraordinary tale of how his insurance company had treated him, I, in an effort to empathise with him, said I’d never heard of such a thing before. He took that to mean that I wad doubting his word and swelled up like a bullfrog in a pond saying something to the effect that the last person who had called him a liar had had to answer for it.
Having smoothed that one over, I tried what I thought was a more neutral topic on a subject in one of his many areas of expertise and raised a question that had been puzzling me – Why have the Russians spent so much time and money on restoring the symbols of the oppression against which they revolted? The Winter Palace in St Petersburg was, after all, shelled and then ransacked by mutinous troops as the opening round of the revolution, yet there it is beautifully restored. Surely it is still a symbol of the tsars and all they stood for
Well, this led to an outburst about people who misunderstood Communists and how much good they had done: Western propaganda; etc etc. I tried to intervene to say that was not what I was talking about, but was told to be polite enough to allow him to continue. Ooooer! So I did, and when he had wound down, I repeated what I had tried to say, that I was not criticising Communism or any kind of ism; I was just puzzled by the retention of these symbols of oppression since in my experience in Africa, revolutionaries aimed at obliterating the past dominance by colonialists. His explanation, which made a deal of sense, was that historic pride and patriotism were behind the restorations.
I guess that little exchange must have triggered some kind of reaction because although he passed us two or three times in the Captain’s Club as we waited to disembark and gave us a wave, neither he nor Coralie sought us out to say farewell.
Our arrival in Tilbury didn't improve Rab’s somewhat jaundiced outlook about the last part of the cruise. We had early breakfast and grabbed a spot in the Captain's Club as we knew that seats would be at a premium. At 10.00 Andy, the comedian, was conducting a reverse interview with. Richard Sykes, the Cruise Director. I went along to that while Rab kept my seat and repelled boarders. Again it was an interesting chat with a lot of laughs but I was quite surprised by one of the questions from the audience to Richard, asking if he had any children and if so if they would follow him into the cruise business. In answering he mentioned that he was gay, a point that I would have thought was pretty obvious to anyone with half an eye.
One of the points he mentioned was that in his five years on Marco Polo, there had been four suicides (all German nationals and men) and one death he said might be regarded as murder or at the very least assisted suicide. The man in question could only walk with the aid of two sticks, both of which were still in his cabin ...... so how did he get to the ship's rail and how did he get over that? I wanted to ask if these men had left their shoes behind when they jumped. The Purser on the RMS St Helena had told us on one voyage that this was a sure fire indicator that a fall overboard was not accidental. Those jumping always left their shoes behind. It occurred to us, when Rab and I were talking about these deaths that she had probably come across the Marco Polo site when looking for articles on deaths at sea - there is an amazingly high number of disappearances and murders on cruise liners, although of course this number is still a small percentage of the millions of people who cruise each year these days.
Ro, the South African Cruise Guide, had been good enough to get us Yellow Labels for our luggage which would ensure that it was taken off first - normally this colour was for the people in the most expensive cabins - and I had sent Jen a text message telling her we should be off by 13.30, an hour after we docked. We actually docked about twenty minutes early, so our hopes were high that we'd be off quickly and this thought was reinforced when passengers with Gold Labels were called to disembark at about 12.45 - we assumed that Gold and Yellow were synonymous in the circumstances. Regrettably they were not and we, and all the other suckers who made the same mistake were condemned to stand around near the exit for the best (or worst) part of an hour. The staff knew about the misunderstanding and must have known how long it would take before we were allowed off. So why didn't they tell us to go back and sit down?
We finally got off and then I couldn't find one case amidst all the luggage. Our cases are purple in colour and in a bright light I can usually spot them: in a more dull light they look black to me. So after my unsuccessful search I sent Rab in and naturally she spotted it right away. We didn’t have to wait too long for Jen – she had texted us to say she had been held up in traffic and then we were off to her house for the night.
Since we got to her little village in the early afternoon, Rab and Jen had to have a stroll and check on the shops, including (somewhat bizarrely for me) a check on whether the shop in which Rab had bought a track suit some ten or so years ago might still have stock as a replacement. A nice cup of coffee and a pastry warmed us up – it was chilly and drizzling and we hadn’t had lunch – and then it was home to meet Jen’s two new kids.
Leyla and Louis are Burmese kittens that Jen got at the end of September. They are lovely little creatures and made me realise how much I miss not having cats. We had a string of Siamese when we were first married and they were such delightful creatures. It was so awful when the last of these darlings – Pedro – succumbed to cancer that Rab can’t bear the thought of having another cat. She has displaced her love to the boys – especially Rudolf who adores her.
It was a lovely evening just chatting to Jen about the trip and other historical matters. Amazing the detail those women can recall over the years! Despite firm instructions from Rab, Jen, as expected provided delightful snacks and an excellent lamb stew on cous cous. She just can’t help herself from treating her guests like geese being prepared to produce foie gras.
Finally to bed at about 23.00
Thursday, 27 October 2011
HEATHROW TO KUALA LUMPUR
We slept well and headed off to Heath Row in good time. The countryside was looking lovely in the morning sunlight – green fields and autumnal colours in the trees and hedgerows. Rab became quite enthusiastic about the prospect of another drive around Britain. Since she will ultimately get her way on any project, if she pursues it, I guess I may be in for this, but it certainly wouldn’t be my first choice. It is a beautiful country, no doubt about that, but the roads are crowded, many of the people, especially the English in the southern states are miserable and disgruntled and I positively dislike the officiousness of Heathrow which is one of the airports I most dislike. I feel there are many better countries still to explore, plus of course those US States that we haven’t yet visited.
Meeting no heavy traffic we got to the airport at 10.00 for our noon flight. Farewelling Jen, with thanks again for her hospitality we plunged into the petty Security for which Heathrow is renowned. I know, I know, Rab is right, I shouldn’t get annoyed with these little people carrying out their orders. I should just accept it as part of life’s burden but it does really piss me off because it is so senseless, so useless, so unnecessary. Why do I have to unpack my back pack and take my computer out of it’s case? why don’t I have to take my iPad out of it’s case? and my iPod, what about that? Can it stay in my bag without being exposed to the remorseless glare of the X-ray machine, which presumably cannot see through the thin carrying case of my computer? And why do I have to take off my belt? What on earth could be hidden in a belt? And why don’t I have to take off my shoes when this is mandatory in the US, where even Rab’s thin open sandals had to be removed? The shoes in the US are a legacy of the daft incompetent who allegedly had explosives in his shoes. Following that train of thought, why do we not have to take off all our underwear since another idiot packed his jocks with plastique? And, as those who flew in the months and years after Lockerbie will no doubt recall, it was forbidden to take any battery powered items into an aircraft without removing the batteries and abandoning them. If that was such a risk then, why not now? Have the terrorists forgotten about the use of batteries? And if so many IED in Iran and Iraq are detonated by mobile phone signals, shouldn’t all these devices be rendered impotent by the removal and disposal of their SIM cards and/or batteries before flight? Grrrrr…..umpy old man speaks out!
Having re-packed my bags we found ourselves in a new, for us anyway, and delightful Malaysian Airlines lounge. Comfortable chairs, the morning newspapers, nice snacks, cold drinks – all went a way to calming me down. Rab decided to do a bit of last minute shopping with the last of the sterling and I just relaxed. She managed to find me some Fahrenheit Aftershave in a spray bottle. For some reason this, my preferred choice, is only available in limited outlets, like a shop in Warsaw, Heathrow and the Dior counter at Galeries Lafayette in Paris. Why this odd marketing plan? Who knows.
We boarded and took off on time sitting in the upper deck of a 747 in our usual seats. The satay sticks came around soon after take off, with the drinks and soon after that a delicious meal. We do enjoy using Malaysian. The staff are very pleasant, caring and polite. A nice touch is that they always address their Business Class passengers by name – we’re not just anonymous cattle.
The flight to Kuala Lumpur (KL) is about twelve hours, depending on conditions and we usually manage to get three or four hours sleep in, but for some reason neither of us felt particularly sleepy and only got a couple of hours in before we landed – 07.30 local time, just after midnight British time after an excellent breakfast – I went for the Nasi Lemak as usual, a lovely combination of spicy prawns and side dishes. What a way to start the day!!
We had a couple of hours there on the ground – it was such a pleasure to start downloading mail with a free Wi-Fi service that was fast – and were soon on our way again.
The flight to Melbourne is usually about seven to eight hours and as we are pretty tired at this stage, we get our heads down for another three or four hours, but again neither of us could sleep well – just dozed for an hour or so.
On the ground in Melbourne at about 20.30 it was a cool wet evening but our luggage came off the carousel as some of the first items and we were not required to submit our baggage to examination this time. Nick the limo driver was waiting for us and we were home by about 21.45.
We usually unpack everything on arrival and Rab will often get a load of washing in before we go to sleep, but she didn’t this time. Instead we had a wonderful shower – what a pleasure to have non-fluctuating pressure and temperature and to be able to move about without a plastic curtain wrapping around your parts! – and then we were in our own beds and sleeping like lambs.
It is always exciting to leave on trips but it is great to be home.
Saturday, 29 October 2011
AT HOME WITH THE BOYS
Up bright and early – we find it difficult to sleep in late after all these years of early rising, we were unpacked and Rab was on her third load of washing by the time we headed off to pick up the boys.
The kennels they go to are a little unusual, since the owners feel that small dogs like ours are mostly house dogs and that they should feel at home when they are in the kennels. So our boys stay in the Fluffy House which is like a Gentleman’s Club for dogs. They mix with other dogs, have old sofas and chairs and carpets to sit on and a TV is on during the day – not sure if the dogs can tune this or not. In fine weather the sliding glass door is opened and the dogs have access to the garden. No wonder they don’t complain about going there.
Of course they were delighted to see us and after a quick walk around the block when we got home – to check on the pee-mail - they were soon settled contentedly in their beds. At least until Bilbo decided that our bed would be more comfortable and slept there until he was joined by Rab and Rudolf for an afternoon nap.
Good to be home indeed.
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