There is a requirement that passengers on cruise liners attend a lifeboat drill before setting sail (or
twirling propellers). The alarm sounds - six short sounds followed by one long and all dutifully ascend
the stairs to the muster stations, carrying a lifejacket from their cabin.
The muster station was in the Neptune Lounge - there were others but this was the most
inappropriately named - perhaps The Davy Jones Bar would have been worse? The secret is to look
around and see who you might:
a) spend your last days on earth (or ocean) with before dying from de-hydration.
b) eat
c) be eaten by.
Frankly the woman in the seat to the left looked as if she could eat all 150 souls in the lifeboat and still feel peckish. She had the air (and the manners) of someone who would then be looking for a "customer satisfaction" slip upon which to record her disappointment with the portion size and the lack of brown sauce.
The frail couple on the other side were worrying about their lifejacket straps - were they twisted. Frankly the sea lane between Cape Verde and the Amazon is so remote (excepting cruise ships) that the sea water would not just have converted the average human corpse to a wrinkled prune before it was found but, frankly drowning would be the better option.
There was a muster roll call (no doubt the auditors required an exact body count in the case of disaster) and the cabin number 3016 was called. The fellow wasn't too sure how many people were in his cabin. The instruction was to call out the number of occupants when the cabin number was called. 3016 answered "6" - maybe echolalia. In honesty he didn't look capable of running a harem. He corrected himself "1" and then was hit by his wife and offered "2" which seemed to satisfy the stout lady at his side.
The very slight Philippino crew member came along to check that everybody had their lifejackets on correctly and then the drill was acted out.
"If it is necessary for you to jump into the sea, put your right hand over your nose and mouth and your left arm over your right arm to make sure that entry does not tear your hand away from your nose and mouth." Several passengers acted out the scenario - not quite understanding the consequence of jumping from a height that is not allowed at the Olympics! The two crew members who had been delegated to act out this charade placed their arms in the required position.
"When you are ready and the order to abandon ship has been issued take a large step forward and do not release your arms until you reach the surface."
It would have been discourteous to have asked 'the surface on the way down or when you bob back up?'
No instruction was issued about how to run the lottery to decide who should be eaten first nor was there a protocol for controlling the spirit supply. (Some readers will already be aware that the author had, by this stage, built a raft from the afternoon's empties).
Meanwhile several people had explored their lifejackets and disassembled the light. This is designed to come on in contact with water. Thankfully passengers were not required to act out the conga line that leads from the muster point to the lifeboat boarding station. You are supposed to walk holding onto the right shoulder of the person in front but this awful human contact was not required.
Despite advice and individual coaching the fellow on the next table was blowing so hard into the water activation device in the belief that it might be a whistle that his spittle set off the light!
The drill completed, it was time to see if the rest of the luggage had arrived. So far (and it was too late as the gangway had been removed) only case 3 had arrived at the cabin - all those things that looked useful in the final hours of packing, plus some shoes. Somehow 5 weeks in the same clothes was probably going to reduce any chance of appearing debonair, no forget that, human!
The second case had arrived so at least there were a number of shirts and a selection of hunt ties with matching silks for the top pockets of jackets that could have been anywhere. Not only was the lack of jackets and trousers a disaster but Case 1 contained the bones for the shirt collars and a selection of cufflinks. The possibility of 5 weeks with ragged edges loomed large and scarily.
a) spend your last days on earth (or ocean) with before dying from de-hydration.
b) eat
c) be eaten by.
Frankly the woman in the seat to the left looked as if she could eat all 150 souls in the lifeboat and still feel peckish. She had the air (and the manners) of someone who would then be looking for a "customer satisfaction" slip upon which to record her disappointment with the portion size and the lack of brown sauce.
The frail couple on the other side were worrying about their lifejacket straps - were they twisted. Frankly the sea lane between Cape Verde and the Amazon is so remote (excepting cruise ships) that the sea water would not just have converted the average human corpse to a wrinkled prune before it was found but, frankly drowning would be the better option.
There was a muster roll call (no doubt the auditors required an exact body count in the case of disaster) and the cabin number 3016 was called. The fellow wasn't too sure how many people were in his cabin. The instruction was to call out the number of occupants when the cabin number was called. 3016 answered "6" - maybe echolalia. In honesty he didn't look capable of running a harem. He corrected himself "1" and then was hit by his wife and offered "2" which seemed to satisfy the stout lady at his side.
The very slight Philippino crew member came along to check that everybody had their lifejackets on correctly and then the drill was acted out.
"If it is necessary for you to jump into the sea, put your right hand over your nose and mouth and your left arm over your right arm to make sure that entry does not tear your hand away from your nose and mouth." Several passengers acted out the scenario - not quite understanding the consequence of jumping from a height that is not allowed at the Olympics! The two crew members who had been delegated to act out this charade placed their arms in the required position.
"When you are ready and the order to abandon ship has been issued take a large step forward and do not release your arms until you reach the surface."
It would have been discourteous to have asked 'the surface on the way down or when you bob back up?'
No instruction was issued about how to run the lottery to decide who should be eaten first nor was there a protocol for controlling the spirit supply. (Some readers will already be aware that the author had, by this stage, built a raft from the afternoon's empties).
Meanwhile several people had explored their lifejackets and disassembled the light. This is designed to come on in contact with water. Thankfully passengers were not required to act out the conga line that leads from the muster point to the lifeboat boarding station. You are supposed to walk holding onto the right shoulder of the person in front but this awful human contact was not required.
Despite advice and individual coaching the fellow on the next table was blowing so hard into the water activation device in the belief that it might be a whistle that his spittle set off the light!
The drill completed, it was time to see if the rest of the luggage had arrived. So far (and it was too late as the gangway had been removed) only case 3 had arrived at the cabin - all those things that looked useful in the final hours of packing, plus some shoes. Somehow 5 weeks in the same clothes was probably going to reduce any chance of appearing debonair, no forget that, human!
The second case had arrived so at least there were a number of shirts and a selection of hunt ties with matching silks for the top pockets of jackets that could have been anywhere. Not only was the lack of jackets and trousers a disaster but Case 1 contained the bones for the shirt collars and a selection of cufflinks. The possibility of 5 weeks with ragged edges loomed large and scarily.
A trip onto the deck to remind that this was not the wonderful departure from Portsmouth of two
years ago and then a couple of stiff gin and tonics and the lack of jackets and trousers began to matter
less. In fact it mattered not at all as a trip to the cabin revealed that the final case had not been diverted
onto the Brittany Ferry to St Malo but was, indeed, in the cabin.
A quick shower and a change into, once more, accessible clothes and it was nearly time for dinner, well at least an aperitif. The Observatory is a fine bar above the navigation bridge where the Phillipino waitress has already clocked the old soak and, upon his entry says,
"Large gin and tonic, Sir Nicholas, sir?"
A couple, of stiffeners and it is time to go to dinner. Dress code was "smart casual" which, in the author's view meant formal shirt, shiny black shoes and a jacket. Clearly it was not interpreted the same way by all the travellers. Trainers are never smart although certainly casual but thankfully the second diner to arrive at table 70 was wearing a jacket and (sadly nondescript) tie. He introduced himself as James and a lone traveller. (The names are being changed just in case the people stumble upon this blog and one of its subscribers commented that the author should beware of being thrown overboard by a character who felt less than charitably portrayed). James spoke English but not ties. Some readers might not appreciate that for fellows of a certain generation (or before) ties are a language of their own, school, regiment, ship, hunt, company, firm - all these things might be defined by a tie. The cognoscenti might go beyond the basics and say which house, section or wing the wearer might be exhibiting. James was wearing a polyester tie that might have come from Tescos. In the great game of tie poker his Tesco special was seen and raised a Devon and Somerset Staghound silk tie. He folded.
Two ladies joined the table, James did not stand! Introductions were exchanged - Margaret and
Lorna and then the wait for the first person to ask "Have you cruised before?" This is most usually asked by the person who thinks that they have cruised the most. This is a conversational gambit based on the idea that the enquirer will receive a short reply which can then be trumped by a lengthy monologue listing the fleets of ships that the enquirer has been on and the ever more impressive list of ports.
Margaret opened up with, "Is this your first cruise?"
Lorna played an excellent hand, passing while James admitted that it was his second and the author added his meagre tally to the table.
"So relative new boys then," flashed Margaret but just as she took the deep breath in readiness to recite her catalogue Lorna played her hand.
"I go twice a year, and have done since I lost my husband sixteen years ago. Oh, except every third year when I just go once."
Margaret fell for the finesse, "Why is that?"
"Because every third year I do a round the world trip."
There followed a game of cruise ship bingo as the ladies vied for the longest list of ships while damning the opposition’s choices.
"Oh, I did this Amazon trip two years ago, but on the Marco Polo."
"Oh, my dear that must have been ghastly - she has such pokey little cabins."
Their battle was brought to a close by the waiter who arrived to take the orders. The ladies turned their attention to James who clearly struggled to hear.
"I'm stone deaf in this ear," he said pointing to his left ear: the ear that faced the ladies.
"You must sit the other side tomorrow evening so that you can hear us," insisted Lorna.
James looked unhappy at the prospect, "I usually sit at this end of the table when my family visit at home then they can just talk amongst themselves."
The meal was good but there were some disapproving looks from the others when the author's bottle of wine was followed by port.
The mouse like Margaret managed five courses but failed to finish three of them while Lorna was clearly a bit of a trencher girl, stashing away five courses without hesitation. The conversation moved on to "why are we alone" or "when did your loved one pass on". Lorna had, as was noted, been alone for sixteen years while James had lost his wife just two years ago. Somehow it was unsurprising to hear that Margaret had rather clumsily lost two husbands in quick succession. The latest just five years ago.
A quick shower and a change into, once more, accessible clothes and it was nearly time for dinner, well at least an aperitif. The Observatory is a fine bar above the navigation bridge where the Phillipino waitress has already clocked the old soak and, upon his entry says,
"Large gin and tonic, Sir Nicholas, sir?"
A couple, of stiffeners and it is time to go to dinner. Dress code was "smart casual" which, in the author's view meant formal shirt, shiny black shoes and a jacket. Clearly it was not interpreted the same way by all the travellers. Trainers are never smart although certainly casual but thankfully the second diner to arrive at table 70 was wearing a jacket and (sadly nondescript) tie. He introduced himself as James and a lone traveller. (The names are being changed just in case the people stumble upon this blog and one of its subscribers commented that the author should beware of being thrown overboard by a character who felt less than charitably portrayed). James spoke English but not ties. Some readers might not appreciate that for fellows of a certain generation (or before) ties are a language of their own, school, regiment, ship, hunt, company, firm - all these things might be defined by a tie. The cognoscenti might go beyond the basics and say which house, section or wing the wearer might be exhibiting. James was wearing a polyester tie that might have come from Tescos. In the great game of tie poker his Tesco special was seen and raised a Devon and Somerset Staghound silk tie. He folded.
Two ladies joined the table, James did not stand! Introductions were exchanged - Margaret and
Lorna and then the wait for the first person to ask "Have you cruised before?" This is most usually asked by the person who thinks that they have cruised the most. This is a conversational gambit based on the idea that the enquirer will receive a short reply which can then be trumped by a lengthy monologue listing the fleets of ships that the enquirer has been on and the ever more impressive list of ports.
Margaret opened up with, "Is this your first cruise?"
Lorna played an excellent hand, passing while James admitted that it was his second and the author added his meagre tally to the table.
"So relative new boys then," flashed Margaret but just as she took the deep breath in readiness to recite her catalogue Lorna played her hand.
"I go twice a year, and have done since I lost my husband sixteen years ago. Oh, except every third year when I just go once."
Margaret fell for the finesse, "Why is that?"
"Because every third year I do a round the world trip."
There followed a game of cruise ship bingo as the ladies vied for the longest list of ships while damning the opposition’s choices.
"Oh, I did this Amazon trip two years ago, but on the Marco Polo."
"Oh, my dear that must have been ghastly - she has such pokey little cabins."
Their battle was brought to a close by the waiter who arrived to take the orders. The ladies turned their attention to James who clearly struggled to hear.
"I'm stone deaf in this ear," he said pointing to his left ear: the ear that faced the ladies.
"You must sit the other side tomorrow evening so that you can hear us," insisted Lorna.
James looked unhappy at the prospect, "I usually sit at this end of the table when my family visit at home then they can just talk amongst themselves."
The meal was good but there were some disapproving looks from the others when the author's bottle of wine was followed by port.
The mouse like Margaret managed five courses but failed to finish three of them while Lorna was clearly a bit of a trencher girl, stashing away five courses without hesitation. The conversation moved on to "why are we alone" or "when did your loved one pass on". Lorna had, as was noted, been alone for sixteen years while James had lost his wife just two years ago. Somehow it was unsurprising to hear that Margaret had rather clumsily lost two husbands in quick succession. The latest just five years ago.
"We girls seem to outlast chaps, don't we," she concluded looking hard at the empty wine bottle.
A nightcap and an update to the blog and it was time to descend to the cabin in the hope of sleep.
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