Sea Day 2 of 3

Today I have achieved a bit of a coup. I have bagged the comfiest chair on the ship. It’s a wicker sofa on the back of Deck 9 and it is so soft, even my sunburnt shoulders are happy. I have pushed it back into the shade (not making that mistake again) and it is all I can do to stay awake. To assist with this, however, they have put on a CD of music that is indescribably bad. It sounds like a male voice choir doing show tunes, but they only have two settings: loud and really loud. It’s a recording of a live performance and at the end of each song the audience breaks into rapturous applause, and all I can think is “Don’t encourage them”. It’s atrocious. Oh, this should be good. We’ve got to “Sit down, you’re rocking the boat”. Ooh, the soloist sounds very Welsh.

There are a lot more outward-facing people on this cruise than I’ve noticed on previous ones. I’ve commented before that people don’t seem to want to look at the water, instead turning their backs on the enormity of the oceans and pointing themselves determinedly towards the sun and the pool. But on this trip, there are such frequent dolphin and whale sightings, people are facing the water so they don’t miss anything. They are still missing stuff, because you can only watch one side at a time, but it’s the thought that counts. We’ve seen turtles, orcas and the other night, at dinner, an entire school of dolphins, jumping in our wake, diving for the fish we were churning to the surface.

Rhythm of Life now. Much more suited to massed voices than Bridge Over Troubled Water. Yes, it must be a Welsh male voice choir. They did Bread of Heaven as their encore.

It’s very hazy today. You can probably only see about 10 miles, if that, in any direction. The haze makes the water look a much lighter colour than usual. Dad said it’s a light sapphire colour and I can’t come up with a better description, so you’ll have to make do with that. It’s not like you care much anyway!

I had to transfer from Aquarius bar to Neptune, as although Aquarius has internet and Neptune does not, Aquarius doesn’t serve Magnums, and I was in need of Ecuadorian dark yumminess. This meant a merciful end to the dodgy music, but the roof was closed over Neptune, so there was no breeze. What you make on the swings, you lose on the roundabouts. It’s a complicated life, you know. You don’t appreciate the sacrifices I have to make.

At dinner today, Sheila said that a friend of hers had witnessed a bit of an incident at Reception today. We have all received a Customer Satisfaction Questionnaire (we get one at the end of every sector) and a woman went to Reception, said “This is what I think of your cruise” and tore it up and threw it at the Reception staff. Crumbs, I miss all the excitement. The immediate assumption at the table was that the woman had been ill with the norovirus and blamed P&O for it. That’s what happens if you behave badly on board. People assume you don’t wash your hands. It is also a silly thing to do, tear up the primary means of complaint given to you. It’s four pages long, this thing and asks your opinion on every single department on the ship. To have an opinion and not impart it seems counterproductive, but we don’t know how much complaining she’s already been doing, I suppose. Still, dramatic, bless her. Ineffective, but dramatic.

The cabin opposite mine has a room service tray outside, with paper plates and cutlery (easier to burn). Norovirus. It’s been working its way down the corridor for several days, and it’s now all getting a bit close for comfort, frankly. Help!

My face is now peeling. I thought the backs of my hands were bad, but you should see me now – forehead, nose and chin. How attractive. Bleurgh.


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