Saturday's hen

The weekend got off to a good start - I was actually running on time. We were due to head up to Windsor for our friend Becky's hen party. We was me, Vicki (designated driver) and Shelley who we collected from the train station on route. It was a remarkably quick trip up the M3 (for those heading south it was more like a car park). We were not going to my 1st choice of Berkshire attraction (I'm desperate to go to a certain Scandinavian brick based theme park), but to a posh hotel / spa which would be a new experience for me.

We had a good initial catch up in the car. One of my fellows was rather worried about her bikini line, but I doubted that we would be looking. Continuing with the on-time theme we were only the second group to arrive and made ourselves comfortable in the bar chatting to Becky's mum, Mary, and sister, Sarah.

It was drinks all round once everyone had arrived. Most people wisely went for a soft drink. This was wise because:

• it was a super hot day (according to my husband Windsor was the hottest place in the country) 
• the alcohol was super expensive (think over £7 for a standard gin and tonic)

Most people was everyone except Shelley, who is a fan of half a lager. I got one of my five a day in with a sparkling apple juice.

There were 15 of us all together, and Jean-Paul the restaurant manager appeared to be in charge of making sure we were fed. Despite my best efforts to entice him otherwise Jean-Paul was not interested in speaking French to me (he was actually French; he even had some rather Gallic ear hair). 

After lunch (a melted smoked cheese and tomato baguette with too much tomato) we prepared for the spa. There was a bit of a palaver to do with acquiring our dressing gowns (or robes if you're embracing the posh thing) and slippers, but we soon settled into the spa, helped by a glass of champagne. I am not a fan of sauna or steam room or bubbly boily pot at the best of times, let alone on the hottest day of the year in the hottest place in the country. Instead I did a couple of lengths and enjoyed cooling off in the pool before it was time for my mini-pedicure.

It really was mini (file and polish would have been more accurate), but I really enjoyed chatting to the lady who did it. She has recently gone back to college to train as a beautician, after spending over a decade on the stage and screen. She was the lead in a lesser known Andrew Lloyd Webber show for 2 years, and subsequently to that had spent 10 years presenting on television shopping channels. Apparently it is very difficult to be enthusiastic about a kaftan for an hour. I think I came off better than my friend who's mini-pedicure experience (begin your own sci-fi style soundtrack here) seemed more akin to an alien abduction.

Then, after a little time in the relaxation room, it was time to get ready for the evening phase of the hen party. It wasn't unrelaxing but I find it basically impossible to relax whenever that is designated as what you should be doing (random relaxation is much more effective). But there were some fun rocking chairs and a read some interesting stuff about Gibraltar while my nail polish dried.

The instruction that we had from Sarah was to get glammed up, not an activity I am terribly familiar with, although I had recently had some practice on a cruise. With the help of my super chic friend Charlotte, I chose to wear a one shoulder deep fuchsia dress. I even ironed it. Taking advantage of the occasion (rather than any style advantage) I donned my new gold high heels (with toeless tights of course to show off my new deep fuchsia toe nails).

The heat was making me very thirsty so before we headed down to eat I swigged a bottle of fizzy orange juice (possibly another one of my 5 a day). I skipped a pre-eating drink (except for a small glass of champagne that I think was given to us in the mistaken belief that we were wedding guests), but did try a little bit of my friend Helen's gin and tonic. I am usually a gin and tonic fan but this one tasted of face cleaner. Sarah had made us up some lovely hen-party party bags:

• earrings (she even swapped out mine for some with screws rather than hooks)
• bubbles (everyone loves bubbles)
• heart straws (very tasteful compared to previous hen-party straws that I have experienced)
• a badge (even more tasteful)
• decorative sweets (which was very useful as I forgot to pack any jewellery) 

Jean-Paul had arranged for us to have tea outside (dinner on the terrace if you're embracing the posh thing); it may or may not have been cooler than it was inside. But we all just about managed our way through a delicious 3 courses. And we even managed to wangle some bonus vanilla ice-cream to go with the chocolate fondant pudding.

After letting our food and wine go down a bit we bundled into taxis to get to the town centre. The destination was a cocktail bar. The details (for now) are restricted to the hens. Suffice to say a good time was had by all. Can’t wait until the wedding.

Tuesday's dining

Tuesday, May 7^th 2013: continued

To make up for our extreme laziness earlier in the day we did a vigorous 20 minute swim before getting ready for dinner. It was getting quite late now and it was strange being in the pool with the early buffeteers heading past in their formal night regalia.

One of the things I like about cruising is the possibility of getting dressed up. I love wearing dresses but rarely do so at home (maybe I should do more) but here I can wear one every night. And tonight I was planning on wearing my wedding dress. It’s not a supremely wedding-y wedding dress and since I had the bottom of it trimmed off it passes as a lovely ball gown. The challenge now was going to be fitting into it since I am at least 5kg heavier than I was on my wedding day plus with all the swimming I’ve been doing my back has got kind of muscly. It would definitely be wise to wear it towards the start of our holiday rather than saving it for the end.

I had to enter the dress head first (I used to be able to go feet first) but with assistance from Matt I was fastened in. Assistance is probably the wrong word as Matt did all of the fastening.

Alstromeria?

We had another great table at tonight. Jackie (travelling with her cousin Jill) was able to identify my up-until-now-unidentifiable flower as an Alstromeria. Debbie (travelling with her husband Simon who had celebrated his 50^th birthday last year) was celebrating her 50^th birthday whist on board – she looked amazing. They were some of the younger people who we met. Raymond (travelling with his delightful wife Rosa) looked like the eponymous captain from a brand of fish fingers. He had no social graces – which I loved. There was little pansying around with small talk as Raymond presented the topics available for conversation as religion, politics or sex. It turned out that he was highly into astrology (albeit in a highly amateur way) and when he asked what I thought about this I was duly tactful and said that I had an open mind; which he said was “very good, for a chemist.” I recounted the occasion that I was on a radio phone-in horoscope slot. We also had quite an in-depth discussion about the literature/film interface. So we didn’t talk about religion, politics or sex after all but it was a very engrossing evening.

More dancing tonight. I don’t know if it was the dress that I was wearing that made me feel particularly elegant but it seemed to go better. We even managed to navigate the oval dance floor for a bit of quickstep (one of my favourite dances to watch but least favourite to do as I always feel a bit like a galloping horse).

After 3 full days at sea (which have been immensely restful) I am finally feeling confident finding my way around the ship. My initial confusion was not helped by the facts that

1. there is no deck 13
2. all the decks have a number and a letter name
3. some of the decks’ letter names progress alphabetically but not all of them are included in this system (e.g. lido, sports, promenade)

But through repeated wanderings this has now passed. So much so that I was quickly able to direct us out of the smoking gauntlet on our pre-bed promenade on the promenade deck (or deck 7 if you prefer) - even in high heels.

Monday's energy savings

Monday, May 6^th 2013: continued

After yesterday morning’s oversleeping I made sure that I turned up my phone to full volume before going to bed. I awoke feeling pleasingly refreshed (maybe the separate beds?) so was surprised that the alarm hadn’t gone off. I was even more surprised to find that it was gone 10 o’clock. Evidently the alarm doesn’t sound if the phone is turned off.

Calorie saving of the day 1: skip breakfast. I persuaded Matt that as it could be less than 2 hours until lunch (we had already spent some time faffing) we could swim, shower and then eat. We headed to the largest of the ship’s 4 pools; it was overcast this morning and this pool has the benefit of being undercover in such conditions (like a convertible car). I did a 20 minute swim but not very vigorously (no risk of being mistaken for a channel swimmer) as I had my “beach” bikini on and was rather concerned about the security of various parts of my anatomy in it. I did however enjoy doing some forward somersaults (without any loss of anatomy).

Calorie saving of the day 2: opt for the lighter options. Which I enjoyed for starter and main at lunchtime. Followed by treacle sponge and ice-cream. We had signed up for a “soda” package (20 drinks for the price of 16 or something like that) and had spent quite some time deliberating as to whether to add 20 branded soft whipped ice-creams for an extra £7.50. While this seemed like a bargain (and I do like a bargain), 20 branded soft whipped ice-creams would be quite a lot to get through. It was not clear whether these branded soft whipped ice-creams would come with chocolate flakes and while I love ice-cream this branded soft whipped type is not my favourite and I figured that there would be good ice-cream opportunities available at the port stops. As it turns out there are also good ice-cream opportunities available every lunch time and dinner time. It is always a pudding option (seemingly different flavours on every occasion in addition to the standard vanilla) and, even better, it is possible to exchange whatever dessert condiment is allocated (e.g. custard for the treacle sponge) for an ice-cream “side”. You can even have ice-cream as well as the allocated dessert condiment. It was a good call to opt out of the branded soft whipped ice-cream.

Over lunch I practised my small talk. Today’s subjects included the various ways of travelling to Southampton (in particular from Edinburgh) and Scottish (and other bits of the UK) independence, which I suppose might really be classed as political debate rather than small talk. Although you couldn’t really class it as debate as everyone joining in had the same opinion.

Calorie saving of the day 3: avoid the afternoon tea buffet. We had spent most of the afternoon in the convertible area by the pool, reading and playing my favourite fruit based word game. A 4 o’clock hoards of people started walking through this area. It was a few hours since we’d eaten and we were getting a bit peckish. So I suggested to Matt that we pack up our stuff and get afternoon tea (rather than go for the poolside pizzeria). We had always intended to go to the restaurant for this, as it is a civilised thing to do that doesn’t happen in day-to-day life (well not in ours anyway), plus there would be several flights of stairs to navigate which would be good exercise. In order to get to the waiter service restaurant we had to walk through the buffet area. This was clearly where the hordes were heading and now settling with their plates piled high with cakes, rolls, scones, samosas and curry. Yes, samosas and curry: since when afternoon tea has featured these I do not know. In the restaurant I was much more restrained – it is somehow ore difficult to over-eat when other people give you food rather than you putting it on your plate yourself from a seemingly unending supply. The only disruption to the aforementioned civility was when I failed to differentiate between the butter and the cream on my mini-toasted tea cake. Retrospectively the difference was obvious since the butter was in those little gold wrapping papers.

Then we re-settled by the pool. I wanted to paint the mini-fruit tart that Matt and I had just shared. I am not particularly good at painting and I particularly not good if I am trying to do it from memory. So I braved venturing into the buffet to see if I could pick up a tart to model for me. Unfortunately I was too late – afternoon tea had been cleared to make way for the Enid Blyton character themed tea. I didn’t think that the under 5s would have appreciated me taking one of their jam tarts to help me with my art so I would have to rely on my powers of recall. Whether you would identify my creation as a fruit tart is doubtful, but it’s colourful at least.  

Painting a fruit tart

Saturday's and Sunday's feeding and exercising

Saturday, May 4^th 2013

First impressions indicated that we were well below average age. Although maybe not to the same extent as on our previous cruise since today there were a few couples with babies and toddlers. I quite like the company of the older generation but if past experience was anything to go by the greatest challenge of sharing a ship where the mean, mode and median age of your fellow travellers is over 70 would be avoiding sharp elbows at the buffet and not getting too annoyed at disregard for queue etiquette.

Setting sail (or more technically powering
off with marine diesel) from Southampton

If you look hard enough you can spot
my Mum and Dad waving us off from the
garden of The Grove, Hythe.

              

  Sunday, May 5^th 2013

We did some dancing after dinner last night. This was not entirely successful as:

1) The dance floor was oval. We are used to a quadrilateral which provides helpful position markers for our moves

2) There was a lot of sequence dancing. We don’t don sequence dancing – it’s too regulated

3) Matt, my husband, was lacking his usual assertiveness in leading. He put this down to me having “drugged” him with sea-sickness tablets.

Despite all that I ended the evening with only 1 dancing related injury (a bit of a smashed up big toe nail) and had half learnt a Square Tango (from Paul the dance host while Matt was having some liquid refreshment). Matt kindly dealt with my toenail (which I suppose is only fair given that he is at least partially responsible for it) and I feel sure that our dancing will improve over the fortnight.

We ate dinner last night with a man from Wales, his Brazilian wife, their 5½ year old son (fluent in at least 3 languages, or as fluent as it’s possible for a 5½ year old to be) and her parents (her mother originally being from Japan). They spoke only Portuguese (and I suppose maybe Japanese but that was definitely not going to help) and despite my best efforts to combine French, Italian and Spanish (in descending order of competence) it was very difficult to converse with them. I did manage to deduce that Ida is very excited about going to Rome and Jose identified that Matt talks a lot and I am “silent” in comparison.

I had a remarkably good night’s sleep. This was despite Matt and me sharing a single bed. We had booked late and hence got an incredibly bargainous holiday but were allocated a “twin beds only” cabin. I took the outside of the bed as Matt was worried about falling out (I didn’t see this as a risk as long as the sea stayed calm). Unfortunately Matt didn’t sleep as well as me so we may have to take separate beds from tonight.

The plan for today, a full day at sea, was to do not very much, but to make the most of the day and take advantage of some of the on board facilities. Therefore I set an alarm on my mobile for 8am. This would facilitate an early morning swim but still give us time for a leisurely breakfast.

As we have an inside cabin there are no solar clues as to the hour of the day. I was shocked when I awoke and checked the time: it was 9.20am. I had clearly neglected the fact that my alarm doesn’t sound if I leave my phone on silent. (This wasn’t as bad as the time that I locked my phone with alarm set in a hotel safe overnight when I was in Greece with a friend. We didn’t hear it go off and overslept so badly that we missed an extensive boat trip that we had booked the previous day.

So, early morning swim and leisurely breakfast were off. Buffet breakfast and mid-morning snack was on. As well as the aforementioned risk of sharp elbows at the buffet, the other risk is of over-eating. We both showed extreme restraint on this, our first, visit – Matt having his usual of a bowl of porridge (bolstered with a side of blueberry smoothie) and me breakfasting on a bowl of fresh fruit plus one piece of toast with a few beans, mushrooms and tomatoes. Pleasingly they even had mini portions of my favourite yeast extract spread which enhances greatly such a toast based morning meal.

At breakfast we were joined by an older couple who had lived in Plymouth in the 1960s. They enjoyed reminiscing about some of their favourite haunts back then, many of which are still around now. I enjoyed listening to their stories – one of their daughters was born at the hospital that used to be on the site where I lived when I first moved to the city. I think that we might have persuaded them to take a holiday to Plymouth – I hope that they’re not disappointed! – but apparently it will be better than the Northern town in which they currently live (which shall remain nameless).

We swam in the adults’ only pool, which we had found during our explorations yesterday. It is deceptively located within the spa complex (which I had no intention of paying extra for) and at first I thought there was and additional charge to swim her. However we managed to ascertain from dandy Daniel (Matt’s choice of adjective) that this was not the case. It is apparently one of those pools with a current that you swim against but that didn’t seem to be working this morning and it was too short to swim lengths so I did laps. It was too late when I realised that persistently going round in the same direction would make me dizzy, and there was a bit of a swell picking up too which can’t have helped that sensation. I got out after about 20 minutes and, hilariously, one of the older “spectators” asked me if I was a channel swimmer because I “looked like one”. I took that as a compliment rather than a comment on my layers of body insulation.