Out Now!

Thursday, 5 July 2018

Moonwalking Zombies

One of my fantasies, not yet ticked off from my bucket list, is to be ensconced in a coastal inn with a pint of good bitter, a roaring log fire, and the sea bashing against mullioned windows touching my left elbow. Windows have to be mullioned like they are in all good pirate books. Well, this is the closest I’ve got so far. The windows aren’t mullioned and my wife objected to me starting a fire in the cabin but at least I’ve got the sea bashing against my windows
Just getting started

Tantrum over

We had two heavy seas – one only a force five, but this was a force eight gale, and what fun it was. Most nights the sea gently sent you to sleep like a mother rocking a cradle. This was like being rocked by a poltergeist. And the morning was no better. You placed a foot down, and the floor suddenly wasn’t there, having dropped by three or four inches. Worse, you were surrounded on all sides by moonwalking zombies in the same boat – literally. Dignity went out of the window, along with the strategically positioned sick bags along every handrail. I couldn’t afford to be sick* – I had a £200 all inclusive drinks package to work my way through – and so I wasn’t.

The sea gradually calmed, and what follows now are just four or five boring photos of sky and sea – boring to everyone but me but not adequately translated on to the screen. This was why I wanted to be here – sea and sky and silence, seeing what my dad would have seen in less happy times. The last two photos are more interesting, showing a sun that never fully sets and the surreal experience of walking about in daylight at one minute past midnight.

Waiting for the First Mate to hand me the hot rum. Cocoa would have been nice, too

Now this is where it gets weird. Thus far and not farther says the sun

When your body clock is out of synch with reality. 

*Fred Olsen are - rightly - obsessed with hygiene. You are not allowed to enter any restaurant without being subjected to a hand spray - all closely observed. Re-board the ship from any excursion and you pass the handspray man guarding the gangplank. Wash your hands in the toilet, and there's a tissue provided so you can open the door without touching the handle. Never been so clean in my life, nor my hands so raw.


Maria Zannini said...

re: force eight gale
And this is why I am not meant for the sea. Holy cow!

How did Bernadette weather the storms? Did you get to make port every so often?

You obviously have sea legs--and a sturdy stomach. :)

Mike Keyton said...

Bernadette was sick on the Force 5 wind but had found her sea legs by the time the Force 8 gale came around.
We were at sea 2.5 days sailing there, 2.5 days sailing back and four days around Iceland with four stops.
No complaints about the stomach other than the 6Ib I put on - and have since lost. A small price to pay for the adventure :)
And, Maria, I'm sure you'd do just fine at sea