Day 7
Monday 16 January 2017 finds us heading south from Tenerife on a dark blue sea, clear skies, 18ºC, wind force 4 from NE, sea state slight. Our departure from Santa Cruz on Sunday night was extremely impressive and well up to Royal Navy standard, so Cunard has notched up several more credits after losing a few for tardiness. Astute readers of this journal will recall that the entrance to Santa Cruz was extremely narrow and that we had to squeeze past two oil rig drilling ships, breasted up, to get to our berth. Getting out was even worse, as we had to leave stern-first. This was achieved very smartly and gently (the latter to avoid pulling the moored ships off their moorings) and we made good sternway at a distance of about fifty feet. The amazing bit came at the end: when we were past and in the harbour entrance, the captain whacked on the power and we span through 90 degrees on the spot, churning up froth and foam from the bow thrusters and propellers in two directions. Then, lined up on course, we straightened up and headed out to sea for our next port of call, presaged by the long deep boom of the ship’s siren. This was reminiscent of destroyers backing out of Dockyard Creek in Malta at full power, but it was no mean feat for such a large ship as QM2.
We are now passing the west coast of Mauritania, about 50 miles out, course due south. The sea is dark blue, the sky clear, and the atmosphere warm. The first sun loungers are appearing, but we confined ourselves to our balcony which, being port side, gets the sun in the morning. I attended a fascinating lecture on South African Wars in the morning (in which the British did not come out smelling of roses) followed by a talk by our pathologist (see earlier blog) on the subject of Victorian Murders. Black Tie formal dinner in the evening was followed by a concert by two violinists in the theatre. This was ‘all right’, but rather let down by the accompanying band and the choice of music; we would have preferred pure classical. It is a measure of how warm it is getting that I was able to stroll around the top-most deck (Deck 14) in a Dinner Jacket without feeling cold or being blown away. Note, of course, that that ultimate measure of temperature – Jane – declined to come with me.
Day 8
Tuesday 17 January 2017 was the anniversary of joining QM2. Has it really been only a week since we joined on that cold day in Southampton? To celebrate, we had breakfast on our balcony in the early morning sun: figs and prune juice (good for the lower bowel), omelette, croissants, honey and coffee. How is Blighty, by the way?
I should report that Jane’s tummy is back to normal now, and she seems to be eating like a horse. She is taking the alcohol sparingly, however, which seems very sensible. Our daughter-in-law, being a nutritionist, has given her copious notes on the best things to eat, and this seems to be working very well.
Booze is expensive onboard (cheapest bottle of wine is $30 plus 15% Service Charge; beer about $5 plus 15%). I was wrong in my earlier blog referring to the $20 glass of wine, by the way; it was only $8 in the end. In addition to the US-style drinks service charge, there is also an automatic overall Daily Service Charge of $27/ day for “Grill” cabin passengers. However. we allowed for these things in our budget and all costs come out of our onboard allowance (= Mess Bill) as cash is not used onboard. Fortunately, we started off with a complimentary credit to our onboard allowance of $4,000 (including a bonus for being ex RN), so we can manage as long as we are careful.
At noon we were off Dakar in Senegal, maybe 25 miles out. 23ºC, sea slight, wind Force 4 from NE. It is definitely getting warmer. I know this because Jane has painted her toenails and has been doing things to her legs. She also wore a skirt today with bare legs and sandals, and the cardigan has not made an appearance (yet). The sun loungers are definitely in evidence now, along with an appalling amount of excess white fat. What is it with people on holiday that they seem to lose all sense of dignity and decorum?
An excellent talk today by a journalist who was held in captivity by terrorists in Beirut for over 5 years. The theatre was packed out. He was a brilliant speaker, who spoke lucidly and with feeling for an hour without notes. Sadly, he spoilt the ending by saying that he did get out in the end. He gives the second part of his talk, which includes his release, on Saturday. We concluded the forenoon sitting chatting to some new friends on the after Grills Terrace, drinking a beer, and gazing with fascination at what some of our fellow passengers were wearing. Or nearly wearing. That reminds me, I must go to library and see if I can borrow a copy of Moby Dick.
If it gets any warmer then I may have to forego the cravat, or even roll down my khaki stockings. Better get the legs brown first though, and retain the topee.
Day 9
Wednesday 18 January 2017 saw us well settled in the Sea Routine, with the day punctuated by lectures, food and films. Position, roughly off the coast of Sierra Leone. Jane says that I am to stop writing about the halt and the lame, pensioners, walking sticks, wheelchairs and Zimmer frames lest people get the wrong impression about me.
Further enlightenment was provided today by the crew practising Fire in the Galley and Emergency Stations (no involvement by the passengers). I took the opportunity to discuss the routine for abandoning ship with a member of ship’s staff – we get the lifeboats, most of the crew get the rafts. We attended a very good talk by a doctor today on the subject of Queen Victoria and her grief and how she coped (or didn’t cope) with it. It is beautifully warm outside – like a Turkish bath – and Jane and I strolled round the Promenade Deck after dinner, though her hair was standing on end and she had to hold down her skirt (up to now the wind has been mostly behind us with, consequently, little wind across the deck; this is changing as we start to head towards the east, following the coast of Africa). 27ºC, sea flat calm still.
A word about the decks and getting around may be useful. Contrary to Royal Navy practice, the decks are numbered from the bottom up, the lowest deck being Deck 1, a little above the waterline, and the highest being Deck 14, above and behind the bridge. Our cabin is on Deck 10 which, at a rough guess, is 100 feet above the waterline. A reassuring line of lifeboats is arrayed below us and the view from our balcony, with its glass bulwark, is unobstructed. It is hard to say which deck has the ‘main drag’ in Naval Parlance (central access passageway): Decks 2 and 3 have a huge wide passage leading aft off a central atrium, with its circular grand staircase and expensive shops, to the Britannia Restaurant and Queen’s ballroom beyond; a broad passage for’d of the atrium leads to the Royal Court Theatre and, forward of that, the Illuminations Cinema. Decks 2 and 3 also have various bars, champagne and coffee lounges, a pub, and an art gallery (I believe there are 14 bars/lounges altogether). However, Deck 7 (4 decks above Deck 3, do keep up) has the only deck where you can walk right round the ship outside and I call it the Promenade Deck. This is the deck where everyone is marching around and being incredibly fit, dodging and jinking around me, going in the opposite direction. Deck 7 internally houses the central Kings Court buffet cafeteria (for people for whom the restaurants are not enough), the Carinthia (sic) Central Lounge, and (aft) the exclusive Queens and Princess Grills – the latter where Jane and I eat. There is a gym for’d of the lounge where some people work off all that food that they have consumed. Above Deck 7 it is pretty much all cabins, like a wedding cake. 76% of the cabins on QM2 have balconies, which apparently is very good for a liner. I am still at the stage of taking the stairs between decks to try to keep my weight down (8 decks nearly kills me); Jane takes the lifts, citing her fragile condition and state of convalescence.
Day 10
Thursday 19 January 2017 is the day we crossed the equator and we moved the clocks forward 1 hour from GMT at 0200 in the morning. Temperature is 28ºC, hazy sunshine, sea slight, wind Force 3 from ENE. Believe it or not, Jane wore her cardigan at breakfast.
We are roughly SW of the Ivory Coast and just about to start to tuck ourselves in to the ‘rump’ of Africa and the Bight of Benin, heading south east. We attended an art appreciation lecture in the art gallery in the morning, learning about seascapes, then a lecture on the history of the Afrikaners. King Neptune paid a visit at 1400 for the Crossing the Line Ceremony, which we observed from a safe distance and, in the afternoon, well, we just loafed on our balcony in the balmy heat.
I have already mentioned the food onboard and the portions being just right. I might add that the ambience of the restaurants seems to me (as best I can tell viewed from the Princess Grill) to be pretty much the same. Whether Britannia or Grill, it is magnificent and I would say that the cheaper two-tier Britannia Restaurant is more magnificent than the expensive Grills. Why people feel the need to supplement the restaurant fare by eating additionally, or instead, in the self-service central cafeteria is beyond me. I am sure that there must be more to the range of food offered in the Grills, of course. In Princess Grill we have three served courses with about seven choices for each as a table d’hôte menu (lunch and dinner). There is also the option, if you order in advance at lunchtime, of an á la carte main course for dinner comprising chateaubriand (obviously shared between two), whole roast duck, or rack of lamb all flambéed and carved at your table for no extra charge. The waiters and waitresses are immaculate and absolutely first class: a mixture of Filipino, Malaysian or Eastern European: very professional without being obsequious; friendly and chatty without joining in your conversation! We are being spoilt rotten, as the saying goes.
Black Tie dinner tonight and Neptune’s Ball. Perhaps Jane will go as a mermaid.
Day 11
Friday 20 January 2017 could be described as a ‘typical day on passage’ in that very little happened. The day started with an overcast sky, 27ºC, wind Force 4 from ESE, sea remains Slight. It is still like a Turkish Bath out there. I have never seen the Atlantic so calm. We are now into the famous Trade Winds, though in the next few days we will progress to the equally famous Doldrums. The ship, by the way, is incredibly steady and there is no noticeable movement at all. She did corkscrew a bit in the Bay of Biscay, when we were in a Force 8 gale, but not enough to bounce you off bulkheads or spill your drink. She is considerably steadier than an RN frigate!
We have now stopped hugging the African coast and are cutting across directly on a SE course for Namibia and Walvis Bay. Apparently, there is not much there, other than a container port and a few birds, so watch this space for the run-down.
We did not attend the Ball last night, though Jane did dress as a mermaid (well she wore her long green pencil dress in which she looked sensational). The dancing by the resident entertainers was dire, and we lasted five minutes before retiring to the Grills Lounge for Irish Coffee and chamber music. Perhaps this touches on the one criticism that we can think of (yes, only one – for now): the entertainment onboard has been pretty poor with the exception of the Moody Blues group mentioned earlier. The onboard entertainers are rather amateurish, none of their shows have appealed, and the resident band is awful. Even the chamber music quartet last night were borderline. I think we have a juggler performing tonight; I am sure he is very good, but it is just not our cup of tea. The films have been all right, if occasionally obscure and usually old. The lectures have been very good, however.
We sighted basking whales this afternoon – only babies, but a welcome sight nonetheless.
You may wonder what we do with our laundry (scratching around for things to write here). I budgeted for using the ship’s laundry, working on the principle that I had not paid tens of thousands of pounds for a voyage on which I did my own dhobying and ironing. We do use the laundry for things that have to be pressed, but Jane insists on using the launderette for our smalls. There is a launderette on just about every passenger deck, with about four washers and dryers in each, along with two ironing boards. Surprisingly, the washing powder is supplied without charge and use of the machines is free. Position at 1900A is 5deg 5.6S 3deg 11.5W.
Day 12
Saturday at Sea. 21 January 2017. Another warm day (sigh), though slightly cooler than yesterday at 25ºC. Wind force 4 from SE, sea slight and very blue. We continue on a SE course for Walvis Bay. Our nearest point of land is St Helena, hundreds of miles away. We continue to do the lecture programme, with a finale by our journalist today (They let him out in the end, as revealed earlier): a magnificent and very humbling story, God knows how he coped.
Despite the wind across the deck, it is still a pleasure to be able to walk around outside at night without freezing to death. Jane and I circuited the Promenade Deck last night after dinner and completed our three circuits that make up a mile, this despite the relative wind being so strong that I thought I would lose my jacket at one point. Much surprised that Jane tolerated it as her hair was on end for much of the ‘stroll’; certainly there was no romantic kissing on the boat deck in that lot. Internally, the ship is very cool with a very efficient air conditioning system (hence Jane wearing the cardigan on the equator).
I have reluctantly signed up to the very expensive ship’s internet/satellite system as we have not had much luck finding free WiFi in ports, and Walvis Bay seems likely to be even less promising. It is $50 for 2 hours and is reputed to be very slow. Oh well, here goes.
21 January 2017
"A Very Vintage Chap..." 