Sorry just a number of brief sketches today - not the easiest day.
The ship has now cleared the continental shelf and the sea is very, very deep but still the nearest land is below the keel.
In the library, which might also be called the snoozing room a couple sat doing a crossword. More correctly he sat doing the crossword, celebrating each success while his wife was allowed to sit and look on, offering limp compliments at each of his triumphs. They did this for two hours - he really wasn't very good at crosswords.
A number of people left the library for afternoon tea and the fellow in the next chair began to snore like a tired old bloodhound, jowls reverberating with each exhalation. When traces of spittle became visible on his shirt front it was time to move.
The late afternoon passed like water under the keel and soon it was time to change for dinner. Each day the shipboard newspaper advised the dress code for the evening meal: formal, informal, smart casual or casual. The latter was defined as comfortable with a certain elegance. The code for the evening was smart casual and most people seemed to comply. James was already there, carefully seated in the place that would ensure that his deafest ear was pointed towards the company. Lorna was next to arrive. James did not stand.
"Sorry I'm late, we have been dancing and they are short of women."
"Isn't that unusual. As Margaret said last night the women outlive us chaps."
"It is most unusual. In fact it's the first cruise I've been on where this has been the case but it's lovely we get to dance every dance. I wonder where Margaret is, she was just behind me?"
It was some minutes before Margaret arrived apologising for her tardiness.
The conversation limped and staggered through two courses (three in Margaret's case) when the ladies made their apologies, "We need to get back to the dance floor, they need us." This left just the gentlemen, each with a cheeseboard. James became a little more forthcoming about his life with boats which allowed some reminiscences about shared waters and watering places, most especially The Butt and Oyster - À la recherche du temps perdu.
Monday
The morning brought breakfast and a bloom of that particular class of Englishman who, being on holiday, feels absolutely obliged to wear shorts no matter what the temperature. They were scattered amongst the morning walkers, counting off their 5 laps of the deck to each mile. Many of the walkers were dressed in fleeces and coats. The Twitchers were in combat black today and while she retained the balaclava and baseball cap, he was daringly sporting just the cap above the technical coat and trousers. The first of the shorts brigade appeared at about 8am. a stunning example who, despite his clear addiction to shorts, had legs as brown as snow which, no doubt, he felt showed off his mid-calf pink socks to perfection. He was followed by Mr Orb dressed in a pair of elasticated tartan shorts that thankfully nearly reached his socks. This character was almost perfectly globular although the pedants might claim that he was an oblate spheroid. Disregarding his head and the direction that his feet pointed it was hard to tell which way round he was from any angle. He rolled along the deck with one hand on the rail and the other permanently tugging at the waistband of his shorts which, being wrapped around a point south of his equator had no purchase. There were others disporting their knobbly knees both inboard and on the promenade deck but the morning belonged to the competitive walkers.
These aggressive characters fall into two camps - the lone male and the grim wife. The former are simply examples of people who are missing the adrenaline and testosterone fuelled trip along the motorways of Britain. Walking speedily up behind other walkers, attempting to click the heels of their expensive trainers in a threatening manner they pull out at the last moment and then cut directly back in in front of the person that they have overtaken. It would be no surprise to learn that they longed to have indicators fitted to their fleeces so that they could be seen not to use them. The Grim Wives are
The ship has now cleared the continental shelf and the sea is very, very deep but still the nearest land is below the keel.
In the library, which might also be called the snoozing room a couple sat doing a crossword. More correctly he sat doing the crossword, celebrating each success while his wife was allowed to sit and look on, offering limp compliments at each of his triumphs. They did this for two hours - he really wasn't very good at crosswords.
A number of people left the library for afternoon tea and the fellow in the next chair began to snore like a tired old bloodhound, jowls reverberating with each exhalation. When traces of spittle became visible on his shirt front it was time to move.
The late afternoon passed like water under the keel and soon it was time to change for dinner. Each day the shipboard newspaper advised the dress code for the evening meal: formal, informal, smart casual or casual. The latter was defined as comfortable with a certain elegance. The code for the evening was smart casual and most people seemed to comply. James was already there, carefully seated in the place that would ensure that his deafest ear was pointed towards the company. Lorna was next to arrive. James did not stand.
"Sorry I'm late, we have been dancing and they are short of women."
"Isn't that unusual. As Margaret said last night the women outlive us chaps."
"It is most unusual. In fact it's the first cruise I've been on where this has been the case but it's lovely we get to dance every dance. I wonder where Margaret is, she was just behind me?"
It was some minutes before Margaret arrived apologising for her tardiness.
The conversation limped and staggered through two courses (three in Margaret's case) when the ladies made their apologies, "We need to get back to the dance floor, they need us." This left just the gentlemen, each with a cheeseboard. James became a little more forthcoming about his life with boats which allowed some reminiscences about shared waters and watering places, most especially The Butt and Oyster - À la recherche du temps perdu.
Monday
The morning brought breakfast and a bloom of that particular class of Englishman who, being on holiday, feels absolutely obliged to wear shorts no matter what the temperature. They were scattered amongst the morning walkers, counting off their 5 laps of the deck to each mile. Many of the walkers were dressed in fleeces and coats. The Twitchers were in combat black today and while she retained the balaclava and baseball cap, he was daringly sporting just the cap above the technical coat and trousers. The first of the shorts brigade appeared at about 8am. a stunning example who, despite his clear addiction to shorts, had legs as brown as snow which, no doubt, he felt showed off his mid-calf pink socks to perfection. He was followed by Mr Orb dressed in a pair of elasticated tartan shorts that thankfully nearly reached his socks. This character was almost perfectly globular although the pedants might claim that he was an oblate spheroid. Disregarding his head and the direction that his feet pointed it was hard to tell which way round he was from any angle. He rolled along the deck with one hand on the rail and the other permanently tugging at the waistband of his shorts which, being wrapped around a point south of his equator had no purchase. There were others disporting their knobbly knees both inboard and on the promenade deck but the morning belonged to the competitive walkers.
These aggressive characters fall into two camps - the lone male and the grim wife. The former are simply examples of people who are missing the adrenaline and testosterone fuelled trip along the motorways of Britain. Walking speedily up behind other walkers, attempting to click the heels of their expensive trainers in a threatening manner they pull out at the last moment and then cut directly back in in front of the person that they have overtaken. It would be no surprise to learn that they longed to have indicators fitted to their fleeces so that they could be seen not to use them. The Grim Wives are
altogether a different matter. They walk with their husbands in tow and slightly to one side so that it is
not possible for another walker to overtake them excepting for one or two wider stretches of deck.
However their own approach to slower walkers is reminiscent of a jumble sale - they take no prisoners
and in some cases actually elbow people to one side. A glance over the shoulder and a menacing smile
through which comes the hissed word, "Sorry."
Exercise complete it was back to the library and a good book. In fact, on the Kindle there was a download of The Good Book but the mood would have to be very bleak to deal with all that violence.
Scrabble caused a bit of a stir in the library during the morning. Tiles were being placed upon the board more and more loudly and scores hissed with increasing venom as Mr and Mrs Scaly brought 40 years of unspoken bile to the game. It was not possible to see the board but it was clear that the words LOVE and ADORE would not be present. Eventually she stood up and very carefully placed four tiles on the board and walked away. He sat there and played his word before settling down to wait. She returned ten minutes later, took her seat and played three tiles.
"21,"she spat. It was impossible not to calculate that HATE (4,1,1,1) would score twenty-one on a triple word score. They played on to a conclusion, packed the game away and then left the library to be spotted a few minutes later walking along the promenade deck hand in hand. Maybe Scrabble brings out the worst (4,1,1,1,1) in people..
The Puzzling Ladies are another group of library denizens with a very particular set of values. Amongst the games and pastimes available in the library is an eclectic selection of jigsaw puzzles. These are effectively the property of a small group of mutually exclusive ladies. One will claim puzzle and set about it on the large table. It is forbidden for others to touch a puzzle that has been started. This is clearly a sin.
"I came back and she was sitting there doing my puzzle."
"That's outrageous." The two ladies, engaged on different puzzles were able to share their disgust at the behaviour of a third even if they were unable to share a puzzle.
"Yes, I'd completed the edges last night, before dinner and when I came back this morning she was sitting here, shamelessly putting in parts of the tree in this corner."
"What did you do?"
"I said, 'excuse me, that's my puzzle' and do you know what she replied?"
"I can't imagine."
"She said, 'I think you'll find these puzzles belong to the ship and they are for anyone to do'."
"What did you do?"
"I waited until she went and then took out all the pieces that she'd done and carried on."
"Well done. Almost as bad, I completed the Haywain on Sunday evening and someone put it away this morning. Don't they understand that we only do these so that others can enjoy the finished picture. They should be left for at least two days."
Lunch was taken alone, followed by five more laps of the deck. The Twitchers were there eating their lunch. He had clearly been to the buffet, wrapped a selection of delights in paper napkins and brought the parcels out in his pockets. She had done the same and they sat, staring out to sea ready to record everything, nibbling their lunch as if they were picnicking at a bird reserve. Clearly the need to record everything out-trumps even the need to eat at a table.
Later there was to be the Captain's cocktail party and the first formal dinner evening - now how do you tie a bow tie and were the studs packed?
Images may be enlarged with a click
Exercise complete it was back to the library and a good book. In fact, on the Kindle there was a download of The Good Book but the mood would have to be very bleak to deal with all that violence.
Scrabble caused a bit of a stir in the library during the morning. Tiles were being placed upon the board more and more loudly and scores hissed with increasing venom as Mr and Mrs Scaly brought 40 years of unspoken bile to the game. It was not possible to see the board but it was clear that the words LOVE and ADORE would not be present. Eventually she stood up and very carefully placed four tiles on the board and walked away. He sat there and played his word before settling down to wait. She returned ten minutes later, took her seat and played three tiles.
"21,"she spat. It was impossible not to calculate that HATE (4,1,1,1) would score twenty-one on a triple word score. They played on to a conclusion, packed the game away and then left the library to be spotted a few minutes later walking along the promenade deck hand in hand. Maybe Scrabble brings out the worst (4,1,1,1,1) in people..
The Puzzling Ladies are another group of library denizens with a very particular set of values. Amongst the games and pastimes available in the library is an eclectic selection of jigsaw puzzles. These are effectively the property of a small group of mutually exclusive ladies. One will claim puzzle and set about it on the large table. It is forbidden for others to touch a puzzle that has been started. This is clearly a sin.
"I came back and she was sitting there doing my puzzle."
"That's outrageous." The two ladies, engaged on different puzzles were able to share their disgust at the behaviour of a third even if they were unable to share a puzzle.
"Yes, I'd completed the edges last night, before dinner and when I came back this morning she was sitting here, shamelessly putting in parts of the tree in this corner."
"What did you do?"
"I said, 'excuse me, that's my puzzle' and do you know what she replied?"
"I can't imagine."
"She said, 'I think you'll find these puzzles belong to the ship and they are for anyone to do'."
"What did you do?"
"I waited until she went and then took out all the pieces that she'd done and carried on."
"Well done. Almost as bad, I completed the Haywain on Sunday evening and someone put it away this morning. Don't they understand that we only do these so that others can enjoy the finished picture. They should be left for at least two days."
Lunch was taken alone, followed by five more laps of the deck. The Twitchers were there eating their lunch. He had clearly been to the buffet, wrapped a selection of delights in paper napkins and brought the parcels out in his pockets. She had done the same and they sat, staring out to sea ready to record everything, nibbling their lunch as if they were picnicking at a bird reserve. Clearly the need to record everything out-trumps even the need to eat at a table.
Later there was to be the Captain's cocktail party and the first formal dinner evening - now how do you tie a bow tie and were the studs packed?
Images may be enlarged with a click
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