The mood had changed like the seasons. Having left high summer on the beaches of the Caribbean,
autumn advanced rapidly through the ship, the red leaves of "Do not Disturb" notices appearing on
cabin doors along each corridor: passengers hibernating before the onset of winter.
"Enjoy your day, whatever you choose to do."
"That's the point isn't it? There is nothing to do." Seemed like another autumn leaf would soon appear on a cabin far below.
---OOO---
At the next table.
"Hello ladies, would you like drinks?"
"We have a bottle of wine behind the bar, Spanish white. Cabin 3199"
"OK ladies, I fetch."
Evidently unfinished bottles can be held behind the bar with a cabin number written on the label so that the thirstless owner can make a bottle last for two or, apparently even three nights. This was not a service that had been used in some quarters.
The bridge playing sisters Tricia and Billie waited sharply for his return.
"Service is slow this evening."
"And they're not exactly busy."
"What is a knot in miles per hour?"
"I have no idea, you'd need a man to answer that."
They sank back into discontented waiting.
"I'm sorry ladies, there is no wine for that cabin number."
Now this may have convinced some passengers, perhaps the poor sedated lady in the sick bay, but not Billie.
"There is - we had just a glass or two the evening before last and left the bottle here."
"Are you sure it was this bar madam?" This error was clearly not uncommon.
"Are you impugning my memory young man?"
"No madam, I will check again."
The sisters settled back in their chairs bristling. Eventually Robert, the senior in the bar arrived with a new bottle and two glasses.
"We cannot find your bottle ladies."
"We're not paying for that one."
"OK ladies."
"Greetings chief of the bug men." The Captain had arrived.
"Reporting late. Dobying duties."
"Did you have to queue for a machine?"
"Don't queue. Bad for m'temper. Stood there looking helpless. Pretty girl took pity. Left the basket with her."
"Do you think she'll do the ironing too?"
"Doubt it. Go back later. Same trick. Someone will take pity."
The conversation drifted on to some of his adventures as an Officer Cadet in the early fifties.
"Another glass, Tricia." "Why not?"
The fleshpots of Singapore were being recommended by the Captain if time travel were available. "Loved the uniform. Sweet girls. Not the same now. All cleaned up."
From Singapore to East Africa (Somali pirates! Always had my Purdey with me. They don't like two barrels) and then Lagos.
"Got to go now. Find ironer."
"Robert."
"That's the point isn't it? There is nothing to do." Seemed like another autumn leaf would soon appear on a cabin far below.
---OOO---
At the next table.
"Hello ladies, would you like drinks?"
"We have a bottle of wine behind the bar, Spanish white. Cabin 3199"
"OK ladies, I fetch."
Evidently unfinished bottles can be held behind the bar with a cabin number written on the label so that the thirstless owner can make a bottle last for two or, apparently even three nights. This was not a service that had been used in some quarters.
The bridge playing sisters Tricia and Billie waited sharply for his return.
"Service is slow this evening."
"And they're not exactly busy."
"What is a knot in miles per hour?"
"I have no idea, you'd need a man to answer that."
They sank back into discontented waiting.
"I'm sorry ladies, there is no wine for that cabin number."
Now this may have convinced some passengers, perhaps the poor sedated lady in the sick bay, but not Billie.
"There is - we had just a glass or two the evening before last and left the bottle here."
"Are you sure it was this bar madam?" This error was clearly not uncommon.
"Are you impugning my memory young man?"
"No madam, I will check again."
The sisters settled back in their chairs bristling. Eventually Robert, the senior in the bar arrived with a new bottle and two glasses.
"We cannot find your bottle ladies."
"We're not paying for that one."
"OK ladies."
"Greetings chief of the bug men." The Captain had arrived.
"Reporting late. Dobying duties."
"Did you have to queue for a machine?"
"Don't queue. Bad for m'temper. Stood there looking helpless. Pretty girl took pity. Left the basket with her."
"Do you think she'll do the ironing too?"
"Doubt it. Go back later. Same trick. Someone will take pity."
The conversation drifted on to some of his adventures as an Officer Cadet in the early fifties.
"Another glass, Tricia." "Why not?"
The fleshpots of Singapore were being recommended by the Captain if time travel were available. "Loved the uniform. Sweet girls. Not the same now. All cleaned up."
From Singapore to East Africa (Somali pirates! Always had my Purdey with me. They don't like two barrels) and then Lagos.
"Got to go now. Find ironer."
"Robert."
"Yes madam."
"Please don't lose this one, save it for tomorrow." Tricia and Billie walked away. Robert picked up the bottle, sighed and turned it upside down in the cooler.
---OOO---
The starboard promenade deck still attracted those prepared to shiver in the interest of their fading tans while on the port or shady side Geoff and Sally's dress no longer looked out of place.
"Couple of Kittiwakes this morning."
"Good. Have you worked out how close we will pass to the islands?"
"About twenty miles. We should pass there at about 2:30."
"There's a real sense of it all being downhill now - the mood on the deck."
"Heard someone this morning saying 'there's no point in being here' as if he had a choice." "Is he going to step over the rail or is he working on a teleport machine in his cabin?"
---OOO---
"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen this is the captain speaking from the bridge with today's navigational and meteorological report." People came to a standstill in corridors and on stairways. Some hoping that the captain was going to announce that the ship was to call at Ponta Delgada after all, some hoping that he had found a short cut that would deliver them to Portsmouth a day or two early but he was to surprise them all.
"We have altered our course to a bearing of 0 degrees on instruction and this will bring us within twenty miles of Terceira for a medical evacuation by helicopter." Carrying out a complex and expensive operation, not without risk was a choice of last resort. The sedated lady's condition must have deteriorated overnight unless David was feigning a life-threatening condition to ensure that he could make his meeting on Wednesday. A flotilla of armchair admirals nodded knowingly at each other as they had spotted the sun spinning to the stern, advertising the change in course.
"During the transfer, ladies and gentlemen you are asked to remain inside, away from all open areas and to follow instructions from the crew. Repeat you will obey orders from the crew."
It was as if the captain had sprinkled amphetamine into the drinks. People everywhere moved. Those who were safely inside dashed to cabins to find cameras before going outside. Outsiders came inside and many headed for the Observatory Bar including the flotilla of armchair admirals. There they discussed the coarser and finer points of medivac by helicopter from a ship at sea. Armed with pink gins, for that is what admirals drink according to 'The Over Grown Boys Guide to the Sea", they shared their advice and opinions with anyone in earshot which meant everyone in the Observatory.
"We'll have the best view from here, you know."
"Oh yes the chopper will come in from the bow, hover, send down a man on the winch."
"They always sedate the casualty heavily. Don't want someone panicking in a evac stretcher halfway up to the helio."
"The skipper will slow right down and we'll get a great view."
Meanwhile the large yellow helicopter described a broad arc and came up over the stern, maintaining the ship's 16.5 knots with ease and secured it's ailing load before the admirals had ordered their second drink.
---OOO---
Even after the excitement had passed the Observatory remained full. At any one time the very tall, swivelling stools at the bar were unsteadily occupied by Seat Vultures, waiting to swoop down on any vacated seat or any seat that was occupied by someone they considered to be carrion. Meanwhile, at ground level packs, of hyaenas prowled ready to race for unoccupied places. Disputes were resolved using hooked beaks of pointed good manners and the bone-crushing jaws of savage politeness.
"So sorry. Please, be my guest," the implication being that to be a guest you didn't really belong there in the first place.
"No, no, we really you were here first. Ooops, mind my walking stick."
"Please don't lose this one, save it for tomorrow." Tricia and Billie walked away. Robert picked up the bottle, sighed and turned it upside down in the cooler.
---OOO---
The starboard promenade deck still attracted those prepared to shiver in the interest of their fading tans while on the port or shady side Geoff and Sally's dress no longer looked out of place.
"Couple of Kittiwakes this morning."
"Good. Have you worked out how close we will pass to the islands?"
"About twenty miles. We should pass there at about 2:30."
"There's a real sense of it all being downhill now - the mood on the deck."
"Heard someone this morning saying 'there's no point in being here' as if he had a choice." "Is he going to step over the rail or is he working on a teleport machine in his cabin?"
---OOO---
"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen this is the captain speaking from the bridge with today's navigational and meteorological report." People came to a standstill in corridors and on stairways. Some hoping that the captain was going to announce that the ship was to call at Ponta Delgada after all, some hoping that he had found a short cut that would deliver them to Portsmouth a day or two early but he was to surprise them all.
"We have altered our course to a bearing of 0 degrees on instruction and this will bring us within twenty miles of Terceira for a medical evacuation by helicopter." Carrying out a complex and expensive operation, not without risk was a choice of last resort. The sedated lady's condition must have deteriorated overnight unless David was feigning a life-threatening condition to ensure that he could make his meeting on Wednesday. A flotilla of armchair admirals nodded knowingly at each other as they had spotted the sun spinning to the stern, advertising the change in course.
"During the transfer, ladies and gentlemen you are asked to remain inside, away from all open areas and to follow instructions from the crew. Repeat you will obey orders from the crew."
It was as if the captain had sprinkled amphetamine into the drinks. People everywhere moved. Those who were safely inside dashed to cabins to find cameras before going outside. Outsiders came inside and many headed for the Observatory Bar including the flotilla of armchair admirals. There they discussed the coarser and finer points of medivac by helicopter from a ship at sea. Armed with pink gins, for that is what admirals drink according to 'The Over Grown Boys Guide to the Sea", they shared their advice and opinions with anyone in earshot which meant everyone in the Observatory.
"We'll have the best view from here, you know."
"Oh yes the chopper will come in from the bow, hover, send down a man on the winch."
"They always sedate the casualty heavily. Don't want someone panicking in a evac stretcher halfway up to the helio."
"The skipper will slow right down and we'll get a great view."
Meanwhile the large yellow helicopter described a broad arc and came up over the stern, maintaining the ship's 16.5 knots with ease and secured it's ailing load before the admirals had ordered their second drink.
---OOO---
Even after the excitement had passed the Observatory remained full. At any one time the very tall, swivelling stools at the bar were unsteadily occupied by Seat Vultures, waiting to swoop down on any vacated seat or any seat that was occupied by someone they considered to be carrion. Meanwhile, at ground level packs, of hyaenas prowled ready to race for unoccupied places. Disputes were resolved using hooked beaks of pointed good manners and the bone-crushing jaws of savage politeness.
"So sorry. Please, be my guest," the implication being that to be a guest you didn't really belong there in the first place.
"No, no, we really you were here first. Ooops, mind my walking stick."
The vultures went back to their perches and vultched, watching for the first signs of weakness, illness
or mortality.
---OOO---
The ship had tides of its own, the ebb and flow of people around the ship. High tide washed people into the library after lunch where they lay like slack water resting. The gravitational pull, not of the moon but afternoon tea pulled the passengers down to the Secret Garden Cafe where, mid afternoon, there were sandwiches and cakes available. As the tide receded it left behind the flotsam and jetsam of reserving jumpers, books and bags, like a tide line across the comfortable chairs. The tide rose again to the library and Lido Bar through the late afternoon, before the pull of dinner's first sitting scoured the seats of the earlier debris and took it deep, deep down below into cabins and suites.
---OOO---
The previous day had seen the emergence of rucksacks as the new day-wear and the sharp division between the shorts and the longs was noted. The new day brought a fashion break through: the home knitted bobble hat crowning a singlet, too-short shorts, hiking socks and sandals.
The walkers' sticks are in evidence once more giving the impression of lone skiers doing the world's slowest downhill race.
---OOO---
Service in the Observatory Bar is faultless but that is no reason to ruin someone's holiday.
"Is there anyone serving here tonight?" She had not sat long enough to take the air-conditioned chill off the seat before striding up to the bar. She hadn't, despite her years, lived long enough to take the chill out of her voice.
"I think that he's just clearing tables on the other side."
"Never mind about that. They're quick enough to ask you about drinks when you don't want one - they're there every two minutes."
"Why do you think that is? It isn't actually quite that often is it?"
"They just want to sell more drinks. I think that they're on commission. They hand me the bloody wine list every dinner time with a "Would you like some wine Madam?""
Almira, the waitress, shifted her weight from foot to foot.
"I don't think your hypothesis stands any sort of testing. Surely if they wanted to sell more drinks they wouldn't keep you waiting."
"They think it will make you thirstier so you buy bigger drinks."
"Excuse me madam, your Sex on the Beach is on your table and your friend is wondering where you are?"
"A Gin and tonic sir Nicholas?"
"Yes please Almira, thank you."
A brief hiatus and Almira returned.
"I'm sorry, sir, we have no tins of tonic, sir only slimline tins or from the pump."
Two competing hallucinations flashed into consciousness. The first of the Hotel Manager being cast adrift in a life raft with nothing but slimline tonic to drink and the other involved a desert and a mirage of a palm trees erroneously labelled "Fever Tree" next to an oasis of Blackwood's Club gin - like all mirages they could not be reached.
---OOO---
The ship had tides of its own, the ebb and flow of people around the ship. High tide washed people into the library after lunch where they lay like slack water resting. The gravitational pull, not of the moon but afternoon tea pulled the passengers down to the Secret Garden Cafe where, mid afternoon, there were sandwiches and cakes available. As the tide receded it left behind the flotsam and jetsam of reserving jumpers, books and bags, like a tide line across the comfortable chairs. The tide rose again to the library and Lido Bar through the late afternoon, before the pull of dinner's first sitting scoured the seats of the earlier debris and took it deep, deep down below into cabins and suites.
---OOO---
The previous day had seen the emergence of rucksacks as the new day-wear and the sharp division between the shorts and the longs was noted. The new day brought a fashion break through: the home knitted bobble hat crowning a singlet, too-short shorts, hiking socks and sandals.
The walkers' sticks are in evidence once more giving the impression of lone skiers doing the world's slowest downhill race.
---OOO---
Service in the Observatory Bar is faultless but that is no reason to ruin someone's holiday.
"Is there anyone serving here tonight?" She had not sat long enough to take the air-conditioned chill off the seat before striding up to the bar. She hadn't, despite her years, lived long enough to take the chill out of her voice.
"I think that he's just clearing tables on the other side."
"Never mind about that. They're quick enough to ask you about drinks when you don't want one - they're there every two minutes."
"Why do you think that is? It isn't actually quite that often is it?"
"They just want to sell more drinks. I think that they're on commission. They hand me the bloody wine list every dinner time with a "Would you like some wine Madam?""
Almira, the waitress, shifted her weight from foot to foot.
"I don't think your hypothesis stands any sort of testing. Surely if they wanted to sell more drinks they wouldn't keep you waiting."
"They think it will make you thirstier so you buy bigger drinks."
"Excuse me madam, your Sex on the Beach is on your table and your friend is wondering where you are?"
"A Gin and tonic sir Nicholas?"
"Yes please Almira, thank you."
A brief hiatus and Almira returned.
"I'm sorry, sir, we have no tins of tonic, sir only slimline tins or from the pump."
Two competing hallucinations flashed into consciousness. The first of the Hotel Manager being cast adrift in a life raft with nothing but slimline tonic to drink and the other involved a desert and a mirage of a palm trees erroneously labelled "Fever Tree" next to an oasis of Blackwood's Club gin - like all mirages they could not be reached.
Homeward Bound
They're sitting near the waiter's station
Their plates and bowls the destination
They drink so much they barely stand
But still they have a glass in hand
Eating until they reach the land
Getting ready for their gastric band
Homeward bound
They know they are
Homeward bound
Home, where their troughs are waiting
Home, where their always complaining Home, where there's no one waiting
The silence is for them.
Every day's an endless stream
Of petit fours and double cream
And each port looks the same to them
Another beggar tugs their hem
And they cannot see the tropic gem
It's all the bloody same to them
Homeward bound . . . .
Tonight they'll moan their moans again
Caring not they can't pretend
That they feel a thing for what they see
Lives of dull mediocrity
Like emptiness, no harmony
Their lives they just discomfort me
Homeward bound . . . .
Their plates and bowls the destination
They drink so much they barely stand
But still they have a glass in hand
Eating until they reach the land
Getting ready for their gastric band
Homeward bound
They know they are
Homeward bound
Home, where their troughs are waiting
Home, where their always complaining Home, where there's no one waiting
The silence is for them.
Every day's an endless stream
Of petit fours and double cream
And each port looks the same to them
Another beggar tugs their hem
And they cannot see the tropic gem
It's all the bloody same to them
Homeward bound . . . .
Tonight they'll moan their moans again
Caring not they can't pretend
That they feel a thing for what they see
Lives of dull mediocrity
Like emptiness, no harmony
Their lives they just discomfort me
Homeward bound . . . .
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