Following the Cook lecture there was time for another hour's walk to work up sufficient thirst for a
journey to the Observatory Bar.
Dinner turned into a chap's occasion, the ladies having decided to take advantage of the chef's curry
special in an alternative restaurant. The conversation was easier and revealed that James had been
articled to a Thames barge just after the war and came from a long line of Thames bargemen. His first
few trips were on a sailing barge although he soon moved on but reminiscing about the Thames and
docklands in its heyday was a poignant joy. The shadow fell across the end of the conversation as
memories of staying near the Royal Albert Dock in summer 2011 blocked out the light.
Wednesday - Madeira is not just a cake
Indeed it is a very fine drink (the drier varieties) and rightly called the jewel of the Atlantic. Volcanic, like Tenerife, the other Canaries and the Azores it is somehow kinder, softer and not quite so precipitous (until you allow reality to interfere with the dream). The sunrise was spectacular, great swathes of cloud the warp and sunbeams the weft of a cloth of colours too rich for words.
After breakfast passengers had to gather at predetermined times depending on which tours they were joining. Others, not on organised excursions, made their way to the quayside for the shuttle bus. At 08:30 tour B was called and the group of about 25 headed off down the gangway to meet their tour guide, Jacqueline. If it were possible to have piercing hazel eyes, they were Jacqueline's eyes. Portugal has the very best system for accrediting tour guides - they have to pass a test that ensures that they are knowledgeable, personable, linguistically gifted, well motivated and, it seems, have stunning eyes. Jacqueline's eyes were as brown as a woodcock's wing, as intense as a well-condensed glass of moonshine and as wide as a full moon. They were mesmerising. She outlined the plan for the morning, which was exactly as described in the brochure.
". . . and after visiting the market we will cross over the road and visit the lace and embroidery factory."
"I don't want to go to the embroidery museum. Can we go somewhere else?" The lone voice emanated from the elderly fellow in the seat in front.
"Well, you could look around the shops while the rest of us enjoy the embroidery," Jacqueline suggested.
"How long will you be there?" the fellow demanded.
"About 30 minutes and there is a shop in the basement that has all sorts of souvenirs and a range of Madeira wines. Perhaps you would enjoy a wine tasting. I'm sure I can arrange that for you." Sharp intakes of breath from two locations on the coach revealed where husbands had been gently nudged into not expressing a wish to join in the wine tasting.
"Well as long as you are not any longer than 30 minutes," the fellow conceded grudgingly.
The first stop was at the cathedral after a journey of no more than seven or eight minutes.
"Is there anywhere here where we can have a coffee? I'm dying for a coffee."
"There are many cafes near here: we can agree to meet here, exactly here in 30 minutes."
"Good," said the thirsty ones and off they marched.
A concise but full history of the cathedral was delivered by Jacqueline while the group stood to one side of the west door through which a steady stream of the faithful went in and out. As they entered and exited they passed the plaintiff hand of a beggar. His hand came down from his wrinkled forehead and then stretched out towards each person who passed. A sad salute to the majority, who disregarded him.
Stained glass cast monochrome shadows between the coloured shafts of sunlight revealing that at any moment there were twenty or more people taking refuge, praying or sitting in silent contemplation. Old and young. An elderly couple who were clearly sisters, faces lined by work in the volcanic fields sitting in front of the mini-skirted and highly made up young woman, kneeling awkwardly from her fashionable shoes. It seemed disrespectful but the thought would not be ignored. "She would not pass the skirt length test in many schools.” The hem of her skirt, little more than a wide belt, was a good ten inches off the ground. There was a sense of devotion from all those who had gone to that place to plead
Wednesday - Madeira is not just a cake
Indeed it is a very fine drink (the drier varieties) and rightly called the jewel of the Atlantic. Volcanic, like Tenerife, the other Canaries and the Azores it is somehow kinder, softer and not quite so precipitous (until you allow reality to interfere with the dream). The sunrise was spectacular, great swathes of cloud the warp and sunbeams the weft of a cloth of colours too rich for words.
After breakfast passengers had to gather at predetermined times depending on which tours they were joining. Others, not on organised excursions, made their way to the quayside for the shuttle bus. At 08:30 tour B was called and the group of about 25 headed off down the gangway to meet their tour guide, Jacqueline. If it were possible to have piercing hazel eyes, they were Jacqueline's eyes. Portugal has the very best system for accrediting tour guides - they have to pass a test that ensures that they are knowledgeable, personable, linguistically gifted, well motivated and, it seems, have stunning eyes. Jacqueline's eyes were as brown as a woodcock's wing, as intense as a well-condensed glass of moonshine and as wide as a full moon. They were mesmerising. She outlined the plan for the morning, which was exactly as described in the brochure.
". . . and after visiting the market we will cross over the road and visit the lace and embroidery factory."
"I don't want to go to the embroidery museum. Can we go somewhere else?" The lone voice emanated from the elderly fellow in the seat in front.
"Well, you could look around the shops while the rest of us enjoy the embroidery," Jacqueline suggested.
"How long will you be there?" the fellow demanded.
"About 30 minutes and there is a shop in the basement that has all sorts of souvenirs and a range of Madeira wines. Perhaps you would enjoy a wine tasting. I'm sure I can arrange that for you." Sharp intakes of breath from two locations on the coach revealed where husbands had been gently nudged into not expressing a wish to join in the wine tasting.
"Well as long as you are not any longer than 30 minutes," the fellow conceded grudgingly.
The first stop was at the cathedral after a journey of no more than seven or eight minutes.
"Is there anywhere here where we can have a coffee? I'm dying for a coffee."
"There are many cafes near here: we can agree to meet here, exactly here in 30 minutes."
"Good," said the thirsty ones and off they marched.
A concise but full history of the cathedral was delivered by Jacqueline while the group stood to one side of the west door through which a steady stream of the faithful went in and out. As they entered and exited they passed the plaintiff hand of a beggar. His hand came down from his wrinkled forehead and then stretched out towards each person who passed. A sad salute to the majority, who disregarded him.
Stained glass cast monochrome shadows between the coloured shafts of sunlight revealing that at any moment there were twenty or more people taking refuge, praying or sitting in silent contemplation. Old and young. An elderly couple who were clearly sisters, faces lined by work in the volcanic fields sitting in front of the mini-skirted and highly made up young woman, kneeling awkwardly from her fashionable shoes. It seemed disrespectful but the thought would not be ignored. "She would not pass the skirt length test in many schools.” The hem of her skirt, little more than a wide belt, was a good ten inches off the ground. There was a sense of devotion from all those who had gone to that place to plead
with God, thank Him or seek His counsel. It was a shame that some of the tourist chose to illuminate
this scene with camera flashes that would not be powerful enough to light their subjects but were
distracting enough to disturb the peace.
At the appointed hour the group reconvened, some from the cathedral, ignoring the beggar, others from the shopping street and one or two who had sat nearby watching the world go by.
"Are we all here, please stand still so that I can count you." She looked across to the shipboard singer who was acting as a second courier, "I think we need two more. What about you?"
"I agree, there are two more to come."
A few minutes passed and, inevitably Mr and Mrs Coffee appeared, sauntering along without any sense of urgency.
"Please stand still so that we can count again."
A fellow passenger enquired of the couple, "Was the coffee good?"
"Well we had two cups and then couldn't find the toilet. The people in the cafe didn't seem to understand what we wanted but eventually they showed us a single grubby toilet. Well I always carry a bag of wipes when I'm abroad so I was able to clean it but Geoffrey had to wait for me so we had to dash back to make sure we weren't late."
"OK we are going to go to the coach and will be driven to the market."
"Cor," said a fellow traveller, "there's some money there." "Sorry?"
He tapped the lens, "some money there, cost a bit didn't it?" "Well I couldn't persuade Canon to give it to me."
"Don't tell me. Let me guess. Mind you I don't do photography but it must have cost a pretty penny." Click.
"More than £10,000?"
"No, nowhere near that much."
"You sure?"
"Pretty sure as I paid for it."
"Ah, £9,000."
Click, click.
"Cor, you must have a steady hand, it must weigh a ton. You couldn’t be a drinker with a lens like that." "Would you like to feel how heavy it is?"
"No!" He looked horrified but went on, "go on, it must have cost a lot."
"I really cannot remember."
Then the point of the conversation was revealed.
"I bought a Canon video camera to bring on this trip. Guess how much it cost, go on. It's their top of the range model. Pretty much professional. How much - go on."
There was no sign of a camera.
"I really don't know. £5,000."
"No, much more than that. Well the list price is higher than that but of course I got a discount for cash." "I really don't know. Where is it? This would have been great place to shoot some video."
"It's in my cabin. Cost too much to risk bringing ashore. I only use it on the ship. By the way my name's Keith, it's been good talking to you."
From the market to the embroidery factory and then on to the botanic gardens.
Some paragraphs ago it was suggested that Madeira might not be as precipitous as other Atlantic Islands. The next stage of the journey necessitated a rethink of this statement. The coach went up
At the appointed hour the group reconvened, some from the cathedral, ignoring the beggar, others from the shopping street and one or two who had sat nearby watching the world go by.
"Are we all here, please stand still so that I can count you." She looked across to the shipboard singer who was acting as a second courier, "I think we need two more. What about you?"
"I agree, there are two more to come."
A few minutes passed and, inevitably Mr and Mrs Coffee appeared, sauntering along without any sense of urgency.
"Please stand still so that we can count again."
A fellow passenger enquired of the couple, "Was the coffee good?"
"Well we had two cups and then couldn't find the toilet. The people in the cafe didn't seem to understand what we wanted but eventually they showed us a single grubby toilet. Well I always carry a bag of wipes when I'm abroad so I was able to clean it but Geoffrey had to wait for me so we had to dash back to make sure we weren't late."
"OK we are going to go to the coach and will be driven to the market."
-----OOO-----
The market was a mixture of real, local amenity and a few 'side-shows' for the tourists. The elderly
ladies in traditional dress selling bird of paradise flowers and plants may have been genuine and
seemed surprised when mobbed by photo hungry cruisers. Many stalls were offering free samples of
exotic fruit and these were fallen upon by the ever-hungry tourists. The whole trip was, by then,
taking on something of the feeling of being part of a plague of locusts. The scene was interesting for
photographs.
"Cor," said a fellow traveller, "there's some money there." "Sorry?"
He tapped the lens, "some money there, cost a bit didn't it?" "Well I couldn't persuade Canon to give it to me."
"Don't tell me. Let me guess. Mind you I don't do photography but it must have cost a pretty penny." Click.
"More than £10,000?"
"No, nowhere near that much."
"You sure?"
"Pretty sure as I paid for it."
"Ah, £9,000."
Click, click.
"Cor, you must have a steady hand, it must weigh a ton. You couldn’t be a drinker with a lens like that." "Would you like to feel how heavy it is?"
"No!" He looked horrified but went on, "go on, it must have cost a lot."
"I really cannot remember."
Then the point of the conversation was revealed.
"I bought a Canon video camera to bring on this trip. Guess how much it cost, go on. It's their top of the range model. Pretty much professional. How much - go on."
There was no sign of a camera.
"I really don't know. £5,000."
"No, much more than that. Well the list price is higher than that but of course I got a discount for cash." "I really don't know. Where is it? This would have been great place to shoot some video."
"It's in my cabin. Cost too much to risk bringing ashore. I only use it on the ship. By the way my name's Keith, it's been good talking to you."
From the market to the embroidery factory and then on to the botanic gardens.
Some paragraphs ago it was suggested that Madeira might not be as precipitous as other Atlantic Islands. The next stage of the journey necessitated a rethink of this statement. The coach went up
slopes and around the inside of hairpin bends that would require the use of the low ratio gearbox in
the Land Rover. At times the front window revealed only sky and moments later the side window
revealed . . . nothing, the abyss, oblivion. readers of the previous blog will know that these are
circumstances for which the author is as ill equipped as a frog in a desert. To avoid looking out of the
windows on a previous trip up a mountain it had been necessary to count and recount the rivets in the
coach floor. This coach was carpeted! The three point turn at the entrance to the botanic gardens
involved angles of lean that meant that the windows on one side were just sky and the ones on the
other just tarmac. Eventually it stopped and it was time to de-coach. The older members of the group
were unable to manage the slope down to the gate and had to be assisted by the more spry. It was only
just possible to avoid the indignity. The Health and Safety Executive would not allow roads this steep -
you would require a working at heights certificate at the very least, ropes and harnesses and eye bolts
every yard along the way. If a walker slipped and started to roll that would be the end. It seemed as if
even sticky footed flies were losing their grip and sliding towards the six inch high protective wall at
the edge of the abyss that lay beyond the hair-pin bend.
"Two short?"
"Yes two short."
There was little to do but wait. Jacqueline proposed that she walk back up through the terraces if the missing pair had not turned up within a few minutes.
"There are toilets here if anyone needs them while we are waiting."
Relieved faces revealed that this facility was most welcome.
"Please wait here while I go and find the others," requested Jacqueline before she turned, took two steps back up path and bumped into Mr and Mrs Coffee coming down the steps.
"Are there any toilets here?" he demanded almost angrily, "we went back up to the top and couldn't find them."
"They are here," replied Jacqueline with remarkable self-control.
"Can we get a drink here?" asked Mrs Coffee when she eventually exited the toilets.
"No, madam. That is not possible. You will be back on your ship very soon," Jacqueline replied and then, under her breathe a short phrase in Portuguese than can only have meant "and not a moment too soon."
On the other side of the road the coach was parked at a ridiculous angle. Climbing up to it required assistance in many cases and two travellers went very nearly on all fours. The steps onto the coach were nearly an overhang. Staring resolutely at the back of the seat in front was the only way to avoid panic but as we turned the first hairpin bend a glimpse out of the window left the impression of two pigeons perched on the eight inch safety wall. They were looking over the edge and even they looked scared.
----OOO----
Lunch was taken back on board. Many passengers were eating ashore so securing sole occupancy of a table for two, overlooking the harbour was easy. The crab salad was good and just as the second forkful was about to be ingested, "Hello again, it's me, Keith we were chatting earlier."
"Ah, hello Keith."
"I didn't catch your name."
"No, it's Nick."
"Ah, hello Nick, mind if I join you?" he was already seated before the word 'you' had left his lips."
"I bought a new laptop to bring on this trip. Top of the range. Cost a lot of money but it's worth it. It does everything."
The reply should have been "Shame it doesn’t keep you company." Instead the words camera out as "Ah, is it a Macintosh? They're jolly expensive."
The gardens were beautiful and terraced with well laid steps between each level. From the upper level
there was a sweeping view across Funchal harbour with the ship, as small as Tony Blair's conscience,
shimmering in the summery heat. Lizards darted across hot stone walls and honey bees went from
camellia to black-eyed suzy and then high into the air to dance again in their hives. Four terraces down
and the exit was reached outside of which the coach awaited.
"Please stand still so that we can count.""Two short?"
"Yes two short."
There was little to do but wait. Jacqueline proposed that she walk back up through the terraces if the missing pair had not turned up within a few minutes.
"There are toilets here if anyone needs them while we are waiting."
Relieved faces revealed that this facility was most welcome.
"Please wait here while I go and find the others," requested Jacqueline before she turned, took two steps back up path and bumped into Mr and Mrs Coffee coming down the steps.
"Are there any toilets here?" he demanded almost angrily, "we went back up to the top and couldn't find them."
"They are here," replied Jacqueline with remarkable self-control.
"Can we get a drink here?" asked Mrs Coffee when she eventually exited the toilets.
"No, madam. That is not possible. You will be back on your ship very soon," Jacqueline replied and then, under her breathe a short phrase in Portuguese than can only have meant "and not a moment too soon."
On the other side of the road the coach was parked at a ridiculous angle. Climbing up to it required assistance in many cases and two travellers went very nearly on all fours. The steps onto the coach were nearly an overhang. Staring resolutely at the back of the seat in front was the only way to avoid panic but as we turned the first hairpin bend a glimpse out of the window left the impression of two pigeons perched on the eight inch safety wall. They were looking over the edge and even they looked scared.
----OOO----
Lunch was taken back on board. Many passengers were eating ashore so securing sole occupancy of a table for two, overlooking the harbour was easy. The crab salad was good and just as the second forkful was about to be ingested, "Hello again, it's me, Keith we were chatting earlier."
"Ah, hello Keith."
"I didn't catch your name."
"No, it's Nick."
"Ah, hello Nick, mind if I join you?" he was already seated before the word 'you' had left his lips."
"I bought a new laptop to bring on this trip. Top of the range. Cost a lot of money but it's worth it. It does everything."
The reply should have been "Shame it doesn’t keep you company." Instead the words camera out as "Ah, is it a Macintosh? They're jolly expensive."
"Not as expensive as this one."
"Of course not."
"Would you mind if I videoed us having lunch together? Maybe you could show me how to use the camera, it's a Canon like your camera."
"I'd really rather you didn't. Let's just chat while we eat."
"I'm not going ashore this afternoon. We saw all there is to see on the tour this morning."
"I'm going to walk back into the town centre."
"Oh, I'll come with you on the shuttle bus."
"I'm not going on the bus. I fancy the walk."
"It's miles. Get the bus then I can come too."
"It's only just over a mile and I need the walk - all this eating."
"Are you having a main course?" he asked, swallowing the last piece of the veal and ham pie that he had with salad.
"No, no - one course is enough at lunch."
"I'll be back in a minute. Don't run away." No doubt he said that to all of his dining companions because so many of them did.
He returned with pasta Bolognese and chips. He was of quite slight build. Being annoying must be slimming. He was left to finish his lunch in solitude.
-----OOO-----
The walk back into the town was uneventful even though a German cruise ship had docked and two thousand or more members of the master race were swarming for the prime seats and views. The sharp click of flip-flops on soles had something of the jackboot about it. "Is it possible to goose-step in flip-flops?' The thought passed through consciousness as a pair of statuesque, blonde women brushed the author into the road. Maybe post-war disarmament should have included shoes. A short period wandering around the town provided the opportunity to purchase a bottle of demi-sec Madeira promised to a friend. The walk back was hot and tiring after the exertions of the morning but at least it was level and did not require any safety gear.
----OOO----
Pre-dinner drinks in the Observatory were going swimmingly when The Captain called across nearly the whole width of the bar.
"Still working. Supposed to be holiday."
"It's a journal."
"Ah. I keep a journal, always have. Important things journals."
"It is sent out each day to a number of friends." Thought it best not to mention Facebook in case he tracked it down.
"Tried to send mine. People want it don't y'know. They couldn't read it. Sent it in Microsoft Word and they couldn't read it. Expensive business. Sending it out. On line while you type it."
The short sentences indicated a man who issued commands more than made conversation.
"You can type while you're off line and then send it. It you type it in Word you can copy and paste it into an e-mail then go on line, send it ad then go off line."
"Type off line? Copy and paste? All jolly technical. You one of these whizz kids we read about?"
"It would be hard to imagine how far you are from the truth. Would be happy to show you how to copy and paste and only go on line when you send it, if you like."
"Ah. Jolly expensive you computer boffins."
"Not at all. My rates are very reasonable. Seriously - happy to help - gratis."
"Jolly decent. Take you up on that. You're here every evening. Same time every day. See you tomorrow. I'm Percy. Wife's name's Jennifer. Who are you?"
"Nick. Please to meet you Percy, Sue."
"Jolly good, jolly good."
At that moment expected him to use an old friends line of greeting. "Oslo, Oslo. On this occasion, on this occasion, as ever, sir the pleasure, the pleasure will all be yours."
"Of course not."
"Would you mind if I videoed us having lunch together? Maybe you could show me how to use the camera, it's a Canon like your camera."
"I'd really rather you didn't. Let's just chat while we eat."
"I'm not going ashore this afternoon. We saw all there is to see on the tour this morning."
"I'm going to walk back into the town centre."
"Oh, I'll come with you on the shuttle bus."
"I'm not going on the bus. I fancy the walk."
"It's miles. Get the bus then I can come too."
"It's only just over a mile and I need the walk - all this eating."
"Are you having a main course?" he asked, swallowing the last piece of the veal and ham pie that he had with salad.
"No, no - one course is enough at lunch."
"I'll be back in a minute. Don't run away." No doubt he said that to all of his dining companions because so many of them did.
He returned with pasta Bolognese and chips. He was of quite slight build. Being annoying must be slimming. He was left to finish his lunch in solitude.
-----OOO-----
The walk back into the town was uneventful even though a German cruise ship had docked and two thousand or more members of the master race were swarming for the prime seats and views. The sharp click of flip-flops on soles had something of the jackboot about it. "Is it possible to goose-step in flip-flops?' The thought passed through consciousness as a pair of statuesque, blonde women brushed the author into the road. Maybe post-war disarmament should have included shoes. A short period wandering around the town provided the opportunity to purchase a bottle of demi-sec Madeira promised to a friend. The walk back was hot and tiring after the exertions of the morning but at least it was level and did not require any safety gear.
----OOO----
Pre-dinner drinks in the Observatory were going swimmingly when The Captain called across nearly the whole width of the bar.
"Still working. Supposed to be holiday."
"It's a journal."
"Ah. I keep a journal, always have. Important things journals."
"It is sent out each day to a number of friends." Thought it best not to mention Facebook in case he tracked it down.
"Tried to send mine. People want it don't y'know. They couldn't read it. Sent it in Microsoft Word and they couldn't read it. Expensive business. Sending it out. On line while you type it."
The short sentences indicated a man who issued commands more than made conversation.
"You can type while you're off line and then send it. It you type it in Word you can copy and paste it into an e-mail then go on line, send it ad then go off line."
"Type off line? Copy and paste? All jolly technical. You one of these whizz kids we read about?"
"It would be hard to imagine how far you are from the truth. Would be happy to show you how to copy and paste and only go on line when you send it, if you like."
"Ah. Jolly expensive you computer boffins."
"Not at all. My rates are very reasonable. Seriously - happy to help - gratis."
"Jolly decent. Take you up on that. You're here every evening. Same time every day. See you tomorrow. I'm Percy. Wife's name's Jennifer. Who are you?"
"Nick. Please to meet you Percy, Sue."
"Jolly good, jolly good."
At that moment expected him to use an old friends line of greeting. "Oslo, Oslo. On this occasion, on this occasion, as ever, sir the pleasure, the pleasure will all be yours."
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