This is your humble scribe reporting from Codger Cruises and today we’re going to cover some onboard stuff. Not onboard activities because I don’t consider bridge (the card game not the ship’s cockpit) an activity. It’s more of a passivity. Shuffleboard, bingo and even trivia competitions (I’ve lost my competitive edge) are off-limits also so I’ll cover a bunch of arbitrary and unrelated topics to give you a flavour of what it’s like on one of these floating gin palaces. Incidentally they make an excellent G&T and in respectably large glasses. I re-introduced the CB to this particular delicacy after a long gin-and-tonic free hiatus which wasn’t hard I have to admit.
While sipping our G&T’s, beers or wines we have been watching the band in our favourite bar at the front of the ship. We’ve sort of got to know them, having achieved “local” status at this particular bar. So the other night the ship was bouncing around more than it had in the previous more than two weeks, making it somewhat difficult for the musicians to perform and especially for the singer to keep his mouth near his microphone, like someone was turning the volume up and down as his head bobbed about. At the end of the set as he walked past he said it was time for a stiff drink – whiskey time. I asked him if I could make a request. Sure, he said. The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald said. I really need that whiskey now, said he. Actually I’m surprised he didn’t want a rum being as they are from St Lucia in the Caribbean and they play with a distinct reggae beat. The running joke for the cruise has been that Red Red Wine is the worst song ever written so people keep requesting it.
Another down-side to rough seas is that people get sea-sick. I was explaining my disappointment to the cruise director that the only time I’ve seen a guitar on board, no one was playing it. He said someone was supposed to be playing it but apparently Serbia (for Serbian, the guitarist is) and Ghana were having a disagreement that prevented him getting on the ship. He caught up with us in the Canary Islands and promptly got sea-sick so no show.
The CB and I don’t actually mind when the ship’s bobbing about more than usual and we have to put on our wobbly boots. I may have previously mentioned the difficulties some of our fellow passengers have in moving from A to B, especially when there are steps and/or hills between A and B. Consequently it means the usual scrum at meal times becomes infinitely more civilized. But don’t try ordering room service when people are confined to barracks. It’s like ordering Uber Eats or Dominos at Grand Final or Super Bowl or FA Cup time.
The CB and I sat at one of the up-market bars onboard a couple of nights ago. I knew it was up-market because there was wood panelling, a grand piano (which someone was playing), no adjacent swimming pool and people covered up most of their wrinkles. It was like many up-market bars except for two things. First, the barman wasn’t ignoring me in favor of beautiful 20 somethings. I guess one of the reasons for this is that apart from the singers and dancers, there aren’t any. The second is that no one was paying for their drinks. The barmen must struggle when they venture out into the real world.
I worked underground a lot in my work-related youth and have spent my whole career in the mining industry. It’s a pretty hostile environment and safety is paramount to the point of obsession. So I’m always bemused by our devil-may-care attitude in everyday life. Like how close we are to speeding traffic when we stand on the side of a busy street. I was standing on our balcony a few nights back and looking down. It was a dark night and the water was over 4000m deep. The ship was travelling at around 16 knots and we were hundreds of mils from land. I was one steel railing away from the most unimaginably awful fate should I end up in the drink there and then. I needed a safety harness. At least during the day someone might see you go in. At night, forget it. And on that cheerful note, that’s it for #10.