Over night we had been sailing south west and finally crossed into a different time-zone. An additional
hour of sleep for some but, usually waking at 4:30 it meant a 3:30 start to the day.
Reading was the only feasible pastime until walking around the deck would not interfere with deck
maintenance and the overnight deep clean. Six seemed reasonable and a four mile walk seemed a
sensible thing to do before another meal. The Twitchers appeared at 7 o'clock and had clearly ordered
a cabin breakfast of pastries and coffee which they brought on deck wrapped in napkins and the coffee
in their vacuum mugs. It was going to be a scorchingly hot day - the Twitchers were in short sleeved
shirts, still with gilets and hats but no gloves.
The Captain was on deck.
"Ah, Nick, how are you? E-mail - it's still a problem."
"Morning, Captain. Half expected you to appear in the Observatory bar last night, lap-top in hand." "Popped in. Must have missed you. Go there lunchtimes do you?"
"Could do - how about computer consultation at 12 noon?"
"Jolly kind, well done, thank you."
Post breakfast and a walk to the Main Deck (which is the least important deck) provided the opportunity to consult the weather forecast on the noticeboard. Unremitting sun and the temperature due to reach 78 degrees. It looked like a day for the shorts! In honesty all days are for shorts - gin before meals and Scotch afterwards of course but today, this was a sartorial decision. Further consideration suggested that some shorts might be needed before there was sufficient courage to don the aforementioned shorts.
Shorts would require sun cream. The cream is factor one million, so powerful that it would prevent a steak being cooked, so powerful that it sucks any previous tan from your skin. There is a scale which is used to describe the brightness of paper. The legs that received the cream were off the scale and the cream is so effective that they would be brighter and whiter after a day in the sun.
After self-basting it was time to visit the library and write up some more of yesterday's journal. After a few minutes The Captain appeared with a Union Jack bag and set himself up with pencils and his bound journal.
"Oh, good morning again - didn't see you. Writing your journal?"
"Yes. Would this be a good time to go through the e-mail problem?" "If you don't mind. Pop back, cabin, fetch the lap-top."
He returned some minutes later.
As his lap-top started up a series of error messages were dismissed by apparently random clicking. Eventually the Windows desktop appeared and the last "You must update" warning was dismissed. "So first load your journal."
"Journal? Sitrep you mean. Word yes."
"Oh yes Sitrep - situation report."
"That's it. Sitrep Old boy."
He clicked on various things and eventually a Word document appeared on screen. It would have been dishonourable to have read it but ashcan revealed that Nick did not appear. For all his curtness he was kinder than the author. The Captain pushed the lap-top across the desk.
"Show me."
"Oh no - that's what computer professionals do - they go click, click, click and you have no more understanding than you started with so they remain indispensable. I'm not a professional - I want to make my role redundant."
"Then how will you do it?"
"I won't, you will."
"Are you a teacher?"
"Not based on this premise. Now, put your finger on the Control key."
"This one?"
The Captain was on deck.
"Ah, Nick, how are you? E-mail - it's still a problem."
"Morning, Captain. Half expected you to appear in the Observatory bar last night, lap-top in hand." "Popped in. Must have missed you. Go there lunchtimes do you?"
"Could do - how about computer consultation at 12 noon?"
"Jolly kind, well done, thank you."
Post breakfast and a walk to the Main Deck (which is the least important deck) provided the opportunity to consult the weather forecast on the noticeboard. Unremitting sun and the temperature due to reach 78 degrees. It looked like a day for the shorts! In honesty all days are for shorts - gin before meals and Scotch afterwards of course but today, this was a sartorial decision. Further consideration suggested that some shorts might be needed before there was sufficient courage to don the aforementioned shorts.
Shorts would require sun cream. The cream is factor one million, so powerful that it would prevent a steak being cooked, so powerful that it sucks any previous tan from your skin. There is a scale which is used to describe the brightness of paper. The legs that received the cream were off the scale and the cream is so effective that they would be brighter and whiter after a day in the sun.
After self-basting it was time to visit the library and write up some more of yesterday's journal. After a few minutes The Captain appeared with a Union Jack bag and set himself up with pencils and his bound journal.
"Oh, good morning again - didn't see you. Writing your journal?"
"Yes. Would this be a good time to go through the e-mail problem?" "If you don't mind. Pop back, cabin, fetch the lap-top."
He returned some minutes later.
As his lap-top started up a series of error messages were dismissed by apparently random clicking. Eventually the Windows desktop appeared and the last "You must update" warning was dismissed. "So first load your journal."
"Journal? Sitrep you mean. Word yes."
"Oh yes Sitrep - situation report."
"That's it. Sitrep Old boy."
He clicked on various things and eventually a Word document appeared on screen. It would have been dishonourable to have read it but ashcan revealed that Nick did not appear. For all his curtness he was kinder than the author. The Captain pushed the lap-top across the desk.
"Show me."
"Oh no - that's what computer professionals do - they go click, click, click and you have no more understanding than you started with so they remain indispensable. I'm not a professional - I want to make my role redundant."
"Then how will you do it?"
"I won't, you will."
"Are you a teacher?"
"Not based on this premise. Now, put your finger on the Control key."
"This one?"
"Yes, now tap A and then let go of control."
The whole business of copying and pasting with shortcuts was done twice. "Excellent - top notch. Understand, friends will receive sitrep. Excellent." "You know where I'll be if there's a problem."
"What fee?"
"None - pro bono."
At lunchtime he was in the Observatory bar and chose not to buy his consultant a drink. Maybe that's why they can afford to cruise twice a year.
-----OOO-----
During a rest between laps of the deck, time was taken to sit and read in the sun. The waters of Lethe washed over but the blessed forgetfulness was disturbed by a Tannoy announcement.
"Code alpha, code alpha, code alpha. Deck 9, starboard side."
This is a uselessly disguised call for medical assistance - a fall, coronary or stroke. Some poor cruiser's holiday maybe ending in the freezer kept for the purpose. Like grazing wildebeest the rest carried on. The lion of ill-health had taken one of their number, "it wasn't me - I'll carry on." Cruisers keep on grazing - is there a re-working of the Spencer Davies number there?
-----OOO-----
The dress code for the evening meal was themed - Rock 'n' Roll. Table 70 did not make an effort while others had clearly hired drapes and brothel creepers to bring on board as well as a number of "Sandy" dress-alikes.
The ladies had planned some sport and rushed to arrive at the table first to ensure that the author would be unable to sit in his usual seat. To keep them entertained it was necessary to appear either slightly chagrined or uncomfortable throughout the meal. They were delighted and crowed that James could keep his seat, "We think it will be fun disturbing your status quo." Think that the rock 'n' roll pun was unintended.
The photographer was circulating around the table with his assistant. The latter had drawn the short straw and, with make-up or felt-tipped pen, Elvis style sideburns. These barely showed up against his dark skin but to ensure that everyone understood he carried a day-glow green, inflatable guitar. In life, as in his death, was it not the other way around - Elvis was the one who became inflated. Their intention was that passengers would wish to pose with this apparition - not certain that this was a sure-fire way of selling photographs.
-----OOO-----
After dinner it was time to type up the journal for a while in the library. A previously unseen couple sat opposite and collected their e-mail. He looked up
"Excuse me, what's that rather splendid tie?"
"Devon and Somerset Staghounds."
His smile evaporated and hatred bled from his eyes.
"That's absolutely shocking." They got up and left the library. Guess they don't like maroon and silver ties.
Tomorrow Mindela
The whole business of copying and pasting with shortcuts was done twice. "Excellent - top notch. Understand, friends will receive sitrep. Excellent." "You know where I'll be if there's a problem."
"What fee?"
"None - pro bono."
At lunchtime he was in the Observatory bar and chose not to buy his consultant a drink. Maybe that's why they can afford to cruise twice a year.
-----OOO-----
During a rest between laps of the deck, time was taken to sit and read in the sun. The waters of Lethe washed over but the blessed forgetfulness was disturbed by a Tannoy announcement.
"Code alpha, code alpha, code alpha. Deck 9, starboard side."
This is a uselessly disguised call for medical assistance - a fall, coronary or stroke. Some poor cruiser's holiday maybe ending in the freezer kept for the purpose. Like grazing wildebeest the rest carried on. The lion of ill-health had taken one of their number, "it wasn't me - I'll carry on." Cruisers keep on grazing - is there a re-working of the Spencer Davies number there?
-----OOO-----
The dress code for the evening meal was themed - Rock 'n' Roll. Table 70 did not make an effort while others had clearly hired drapes and brothel creepers to bring on board as well as a number of "Sandy" dress-alikes.
The ladies had planned some sport and rushed to arrive at the table first to ensure that the author would be unable to sit in his usual seat. To keep them entertained it was necessary to appear either slightly chagrined or uncomfortable throughout the meal. They were delighted and crowed that James could keep his seat, "We think it will be fun disturbing your status quo." Think that the rock 'n' roll pun was unintended.
The photographer was circulating around the table with his assistant. The latter had drawn the short straw and, with make-up or felt-tipped pen, Elvis style sideburns. These barely showed up against his dark skin but to ensure that everyone understood he carried a day-glow green, inflatable guitar. In life, as in his death, was it not the other way around - Elvis was the one who became inflated. Their intention was that passengers would wish to pose with this apparition - not certain that this was a sure-fire way of selling photographs.
-----OOO-----
After dinner it was time to type up the journal for a while in the library. A previously unseen couple sat opposite and collected their e-mail. He looked up
"Excuse me, what's that rather splendid tie?"
"Devon and Somerset Staghounds."
His smile evaporated and hatred bled from his eyes.
"That's absolutely shocking." They got up and left the library. Guess they don't like maroon and silver ties.
Tomorrow Mindela
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