Lorna and Margaret re-joined the gentlemen for dinner, the alternative restaurant failing to seduce
them on this occasion.
They were slightly late having danced until the last waltz.
"I'm ravished." announced Margaret. May be it was the last tango rather than waltz that had caused the delay.
"No, no I mean famished," She reddened a little through the make-up. "Did you miss us?" asked Lorna.
"Of course."
"Pardon," said James.
"We had Chinese last night in the Garden Room Restaurant."
"Yes, it was delicious," added Lorna.
Ever the discerning diners, had they really not realised that it was an Indian Special that had been served in the Garden Room? Perhaps the meal had been lacking authenticity.
"Oh, silly us. It wasn't Chinese. I don't know: first I'm ravished then I have a Chinese when really it was an Indian. It's because I only had a banana when I woke up."
It was time to change the subject!
"Did you enjoy the excursion this morning?" This to Lorna who had been on the trip to the botanical gardens via the cathedral, market and embroidery factory.
"Yes, I thought it was rather good. Especially the botanical gardens except it made me feel guilty about being here when I should be working in my own garden.” It was impossible to recall what had been seen on the trip that would remind anyone of a January garden in Kidderminster.
"I thought the guide was excellent. Portugal really does seem to maintain very high standards."
"Oh she was excellent but I missed some of her speeches because I was transfixed by her eyes," Lorna responded.
"How about you, James? Did you go ashore?" enquired Margaret.
"I went up a mountain."
"Did you walk?" James looked at Lorna in disbelief.
"No, by coach. It was very high. Above the clouds and very steep. I've never been up a mountain before. In fact I've never been that high before except in an aeroplane."
"Oh that sounds fun," and you know one person who did not make that response.
The ladies departed to trip the light fandango leaving James, who seemed to wake when they'd gone. The conversation went from ships and the sea to recollections of good times passed.
"Well," he concluded, "we have to remember how lucky we are. My brother is dead, he will never do this, my sister is in a nursing home with dementia, she wouldn't know if she was doing this and here I am, 80 years old and on my way to the Amazon.”
Thursday
The sun shone and the morning temperature was soon into the sixties and heading higher. Once again the bright sun revealed much. This time the revelations included previously unseen passengers, as well as rather more of some passengers than had, thankfully, previously been seen. In there latter case it was the insistences on wearing clothes that failed to cover parts that clothes really should remove from view. Breakfast was being consumed by gentlemen wearing tee-shirts stretched to transparency by paunches and ladies wearing what are probably called crop tops. It is unlikely that the expression 'six-pack' refers to packs of blancmange in overstretched plastic bags. This 'body beautiful' was kept carefully under wraps although by the afternoon temperatures were high enough to require a short sleeved shirt. More accurately THE short sleeved shirt.
After breakfast a short sojourn in the library for some reading before the morning constitutional. Some eight or nine readers were proudly displaying the fact that they acquired the overseas editions of
They were slightly late having danced until the last waltz.
"I'm ravished." announced Margaret. May be it was the last tango rather than waltz that had caused the delay.
"No, no I mean famished," She reddened a little through the make-up. "Did you miss us?" asked Lorna.
"Of course."
"Pardon," said James.
"We had Chinese last night in the Garden Room Restaurant."
"Yes, it was delicious," added Lorna.
Ever the discerning diners, had they really not realised that it was an Indian Special that had been served in the Garden Room? Perhaps the meal had been lacking authenticity.
"Oh, silly us. It wasn't Chinese. I don't know: first I'm ravished then I have a Chinese when really it was an Indian. It's because I only had a banana when I woke up."
It was time to change the subject!
"Did you enjoy the excursion this morning?" This to Lorna who had been on the trip to the botanical gardens via the cathedral, market and embroidery factory.
"Yes, I thought it was rather good. Especially the botanical gardens except it made me feel guilty about being here when I should be working in my own garden.” It was impossible to recall what had been seen on the trip that would remind anyone of a January garden in Kidderminster.
"I thought the guide was excellent. Portugal really does seem to maintain very high standards."
"Oh she was excellent but I missed some of her speeches because I was transfixed by her eyes," Lorna responded.
"How about you, James? Did you go ashore?" enquired Margaret.
"I went up a mountain."
"Did you walk?" James looked at Lorna in disbelief.
"No, by coach. It was very high. Above the clouds and very steep. I've never been up a mountain before. In fact I've never been that high before except in an aeroplane."
"Oh that sounds fun," and you know one person who did not make that response.
The ladies departed to trip the light fandango leaving James, who seemed to wake when they'd gone. The conversation went from ships and the sea to recollections of good times passed.
"Well," he concluded, "we have to remember how lucky we are. My brother is dead, he will never do this, my sister is in a nursing home with dementia, she wouldn't know if she was doing this and here I am, 80 years old and on my way to the Amazon.”
Thursday
The sun shone and the morning temperature was soon into the sixties and heading higher. Once again the bright sun revealed much. This time the revelations included previously unseen passengers, as well as rather more of some passengers than had, thankfully, previously been seen. In there latter case it was the insistences on wearing clothes that failed to cover parts that clothes really should remove from view. Breakfast was being consumed by gentlemen wearing tee-shirts stretched to transparency by paunches and ladies wearing what are probably called crop tops. It is unlikely that the expression 'six-pack' refers to packs of blancmange in overstretched plastic bags. This 'body beautiful' was kept carefully under wraps although by the afternoon temperatures were high enough to require a short sleeved shirt. More accurately THE short sleeved shirt.
After breakfast a short sojourn in the library for some reading before the morning constitutional. Some eight or nine readers were proudly displaying the fact that they acquired the overseas editions of
English newspapers while in Funchal. All but one was the Daily Mail. Some basic insecurity made the
reinforcement of their prejudices as essential as a junkie’s fix. Over the coming sea days these
newspapers will acquire the status of an ounce of Old Holbourn in a high security prison. There is
something peculiar to the heart of Middle (or is that Little) England and the need be reassured that
you are always right and that foreigners, gays, pinkos, greens and the EEC are always to blame. Many
hands will reach for those newspapers like football commentators reach for clichés - sheer
desperation. It could be fun to buy a copy in Cape Verde and then ritually shred it and leave a few
pieces in the library each morning. Some folk would probably coerce the jig-saw puzzlers into
reconstructing it.
Speaking of which there was more outrage on the jigsaw front - some edge pieces had been added overnight and the puzzler was vexed as to which pieces to remove.
Temperature up to 72 degrees (sorry to younger readers - no idea what that is in centipedes) and the Twitchers have dispensed with the coats, are now wearing fleeces and photographers gilets. The hats remain in place. Watched a flying fish next to the ship while they scanned the distance with high powered binoculars looking for ANYTHING to record. Hated myself for feeling smug about their omission. Then wondered if they made a record every time someone walked past them but still felt ashamed of that smugness.
An hour of walking around the deck (approximately 4 miles - these things matter at sea) and it was time to settle onto a chair and read. "Filling the time between, life . . . ." Donovan's words circulated in the head. Another oddly compelling Inspector Banks book alternating with Dickens although it is sometimes hard to read Dickens by an unseasonal tropical light.
Yesterday's bore walked past twice without asking the price of anything: it was approaching lunchtime and it was important to know that he had settled somewhere. A peek into the Tintagel restaurant located him holding court with three people whose expressions suggested a deficit on the will to live account. It was safe to duck into the Four Seasons restaurant where, the waiter pointed to a table for eight. Salad collected and seat taken an elderly and frail couple asked if the other seats were taken. "No, no please help yourselves." They looked appreciatively as their arrival was greeted by standing. It is a piece of good manners that has all but disappeared: standing when a lady enters a room or joins a table - more's the pity.
"Have you cruised before?" She had a gentle, lilting Scottish accent, maybe the islands. "Yes, have you?"
"No, this is our first trip. This is Peter and I'm Kathleen."
"I'm Nick, pleased to meet you both."
"Mick?"
"No, Nick."
"Oh, I'm so sorry, my hearing isn't very good any more."
"That's fine. Interesting that you chose this trip as a first cruise. Most people start with a shorter cruise in case it doesn't suit them."
"Och, we wanted to get away from the cold."
"Why did you choose the Amazon?"
A slightly distant look came into her pearly eyes which glanced at the Kindle.
"Amazon?" she queried.
"Yes, it's an interesting choice."
"No we don't use the computer much. Our grandchildren have to help us and we are frightened of crime on the internet."
"The internet?"
"Yes," she said, glancing again at the Kindle. "Our daughter bought us one of those before we came away and told us to buy books for it from Amazon but we don't want someone stealing from our bank account."
They were charming and innocent and it was impossible not to wonder if they thought the ship was taking them to a huge electronic bookshop.
Speaking of which there was more outrage on the jigsaw front - some edge pieces had been added overnight and the puzzler was vexed as to which pieces to remove.
Temperature up to 72 degrees (sorry to younger readers - no idea what that is in centipedes) and the Twitchers have dispensed with the coats, are now wearing fleeces and photographers gilets. The hats remain in place. Watched a flying fish next to the ship while they scanned the distance with high powered binoculars looking for ANYTHING to record. Hated myself for feeling smug about their omission. Then wondered if they made a record every time someone walked past them but still felt ashamed of that smugness.
An hour of walking around the deck (approximately 4 miles - these things matter at sea) and it was time to settle onto a chair and read. "Filling the time between, life . . . ." Donovan's words circulated in the head. Another oddly compelling Inspector Banks book alternating with Dickens although it is sometimes hard to read Dickens by an unseasonal tropical light.
Yesterday's bore walked past twice without asking the price of anything: it was approaching lunchtime and it was important to know that he had settled somewhere. A peek into the Tintagel restaurant located him holding court with three people whose expressions suggested a deficit on the will to live account. It was safe to duck into the Four Seasons restaurant where, the waiter pointed to a table for eight. Salad collected and seat taken an elderly and frail couple asked if the other seats were taken. "No, no please help yourselves." They looked appreciatively as their arrival was greeted by standing. It is a piece of good manners that has all but disappeared: standing when a lady enters a room or joins a table - more's the pity.
"Have you cruised before?" She had a gentle, lilting Scottish accent, maybe the islands. "Yes, have you?"
"No, this is our first trip. This is Peter and I'm Kathleen."
"I'm Nick, pleased to meet you both."
"Mick?"
"No, Nick."
"Oh, I'm so sorry, my hearing isn't very good any more."
"That's fine. Interesting that you chose this trip as a first cruise. Most people start with a shorter cruise in case it doesn't suit them."
"Och, we wanted to get away from the cold."
"Why did you choose the Amazon?"
A slightly distant look came into her pearly eyes which glanced at the Kindle.
"Amazon?" she queried.
"Yes, it's an interesting choice."
"No we don't use the computer much. Our grandchildren have to help us and we are frightened of crime on the internet."
"The internet?"
"Yes," she said, glancing again at the Kindle. "Our daughter bought us one of those before we came away and told us to buy books for it from Amazon but we don't want someone stealing from our bank account."
They were charming and innocent and it was impossible not to wonder if they thought the ship was taking them to a huge electronic bookshop.
Standing again the two ladies introduced themselves.
"I'm Tricia and this is my younger sister Billie. Her real name is Wilhelmina but she has hated that since she was tiny."
"Yes, and you have told as many people as possible throughout my life," Billie said with barely disguised irritation.
"Billie suits hurt rather well," went on Tricia, ignoring her sister's reproving look, "she always was, and some say still is, a tomboy."
"Tricia, that's quite enough the gentleman really doesn't want to hear all this. You'll embarrass him." "I'm sure he doesn't mind. I'm just introducing us."
It seemed as if this was going to be one of those conversations where one participant is actually just a spectator.
"Don't mind my sister, she's just rather sensitive. Do you play bridge?"
"No. Well not for very many years. Father taught me to play but he was a card counter and could recall every play. Days later he would ask 'Nicholas, why on earth did you lead with the two of diamonds in the third hand of the second rubber last weekend?' I assume that you play and are playing on board." "Yes," replied Billie. "We are mad keen. Tricia lives in Marlow and I live in Cornwall. I moved down there after my husband died. Now we cruise together once a year and play as much bridge as we can. We always play together."
"She moved to Cornwall to get away from me you know. Couldn't wait, Matthew was barely cold when she sold and went to Porthcurno - just about as far as she could go."
"Tricia! Stop it. You'll be telling him that I killed Matty so I could move all the sooner."
"Well there are those who said that you exhausted him."
"Well at least he stayed around - your John walked out after just 30 years."
"If you'll excuse me ladies, please. I will leave you to your lunch."
"Oh, please don't go. We are so enjoying the chat."
"Another time perhaps. I must go."
"Do you have to?" a plaintive Scottish accent piped.
"Sorry," with feeling.
Later that afternoon, from a seat in the library, it was possible to see the bridge players as they competed in a duplicate competition. As the pairs were being organised a now familiar voice asserted, "This is my younger sister Billie, or Wilhelmina and we only play together."
----OOOO----
Dinner was enlivened by the hunting debate which all began with a tie.
"Please, do tell me what the A is for on your tie." It was Margaret who provided the lead.
"The Atherstone Hunt - most of my ties are hunt ties - it's a passion."
"Oh jolly good," responded Lorna, "they were wicked to ban it. Damn deer come into my garden - they need to be culled."
"It was political - just class war," pronounced Margaret.
"Certainly many opponents disliked a group of people more than they loved animals!"
"Foxes have no natural predators do they?" enquires Lorna.
"Not any more. We could reintroduce the European wolf - they predate foxes."
"Oh no, you're not one of these people who want to reintroduce things are you?"
"Well it's an interesting concept and would reduce countryside crime - a few wolves roaming around would dampen the ardour of those ne'er-do-wells who come out of the city, steal vehicles and torch them next to farm buildings."
"No, get rid of all those foreigners too. Grey squirrels and all that sort of thing - the alien plants, trees - get rid of them all." Lorna paused before confirming her paid up membership of the Daily Mail Little Englander society. "In fact let's get rid of everything foreign: animals, plants, eastern Europeans, immigrants of all kinds."
"I like foxes." James spoke quietly and determinedly. "When Charlie was alive, he was my dog I used to buy extra food and put it out for the foxes. Rarely saw them but always put a bit out for them. Even now that Charlie's dead I still buy a bit of food for the foxes."
"But you aren't an animal rightist are you?" demanded Margaret.
"I'm Tricia and this is my younger sister Billie. Her real name is Wilhelmina but she has hated that since she was tiny."
"Yes, and you have told as many people as possible throughout my life," Billie said with barely disguised irritation.
"Billie suits hurt rather well," went on Tricia, ignoring her sister's reproving look, "she always was, and some say still is, a tomboy."
"Tricia, that's quite enough the gentleman really doesn't want to hear all this. You'll embarrass him." "I'm sure he doesn't mind. I'm just introducing us."
It seemed as if this was going to be one of those conversations where one participant is actually just a spectator.
"Don't mind my sister, she's just rather sensitive. Do you play bridge?"
"No. Well not for very many years. Father taught me to play but he was a card counter and could recall every play. Days later he would ask 'Nicholas, why on earth did you lead with the two of diamonds in the third hand of the second rubber last weekend?' I assume that you play and are playing on board." "Yes," replied Billie. "We are mad keen. Tricia lives in Marlow and I live in Cornwall. I moved down there after my husband died. Now we cruise together once a year and play as much bridge as we can. We always play together."
"She moved to Cornwall to get away from me you know. Couldn't wait, Matthew was barely cold when she sold and went to Porthcurno - just about as far as she could go."
"Tricia! Stop it. You'll be telling him that I killed Matty so I could move all the sooner."
"Well there are those who said that you exhausted him."
"Well at least he stayed around - your John walked out after just 30 years."
"If you'll excuse me ladies, please. I will leave you to your lunch."
"Oh, please don't go. We are so enjoying the chat."
"Another time perhaps. I must go."
"Do you have to?" a plaintive Scottish accent piped.
"Sorry," with feeling.
Later that afternoon, from a seat in the library, it was possible to see the bridge players as they competed in a duplicate competition. As the pairs were being organised a now familiar voice asserted, "This is my younger sister Billie, or Wilhelmina and we only play together."
----OOOO----
Dinner was enlivened by the hunting debate which all began with a tie.
"Please, do tell me what the A is for on your tie." It was Margaret who provided the lead.
"The Atherstone Hunt - most of my ties are hunt ties - it's a passion."
"Oh jolly good," responded Lorna, "they were wicked to ban it. Damn deer come into my garden - they need to be culled."
"It was political - just class war," pronounced Margaret.
"Certainly many opponents disliked a group of people more than they loved animals!"
"Foxes have no natural predators do they?" enquires Lorna.
"Not any more. We could reintroduce the European wolf - they predate foxes."
"Oh no, you're not one of these people who want to reintroduce things are you?"
"Well it's an interesting concept and would reduce countryside crime - a few wolves roaming around would dampen the ardour of those ne'er-do-wells who come out of the city, steal vehicles and torch them next to farm buildings."
"No, get rid of all those foreigners too. Grey squirrels and all that sort of thing - the alien plants, trees - get rid of them all." Lorna paused before confirming her paid up membership of the Daily Mail Little Englander society. "In fact let's get rid of everything foreign: animals, plants, eastern Europeans, immigrants of all kinds."
"I like foxes." James spoke quietly and determinedly. "When Charlie was alive, he was my dog I used to buy extra food and put it out for the foxes. Rarely saw them but always put a bit out for them. Even now that Charlie's dead I still buy a bit of food for the foxes."
"But you aren't an animal rightist are you?" demanded Margaret.
"Oh no," responded James, "they do some terrible things. They dug up someone's body didn't they?"
"Yes. I had several run-ins with them when I was campaigning for hunting. They set up a web site
called scum of the month dot com and I featured for several months - photographs of myself, my
teenaged daughter, my house and a note that my wife was disabled."
"Outrageous."
"Oh it gets better than that. There was a button to click and download a copy of The Anarchist's Cookbook."
"Not recipes?" asked Lorna.
"Well, of a kind - how to make firebombs and the like."
"Did you report it?"
"Oh yes but it stayed up for six months. After three months I was replaced by the details of a chap called Jeff, a hunt secretary of a different hunt. I e-mailed admin@scumofthemonth.com complaining that Jeff was not nearly as scummy as me - I demanded reinstatement."
The conversation moved away from animal rights and petered out.
Time for Scotch.
"Outrageous."
"Oh it gets better than that. There was a button to click and download a copy of The Anarchist's Cookbook."
"Not recipes?" asked Lorna.
"Well, of a kind - how to make firebombs and the like."
"Did you report it?"
"Oh yes but it stayed up for six months. After three months I was replaced by the details of a chap called Jeff, a hunt secretary of a different hunt. I e-mailed admin@scumofthemonth.com complaining that Jeff was not nearly as scummy as me - I demanded reinstatement."
The conversation moved away from animal rights and petered out.
Time for Scotch.
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