Paul:
Although a few older folk walk slowly covering just a few yards then stopping there are many who can speed walk. After breakfast we walk a lap of the ship and are overtaken on all sides by dozens of 70 and 80 somethings hurtling along the deck with a strong gale behind them. We maintain a steady 2mph but the silver haired speedsters pass us at incredible walking speeds, fixed jaws staring ahead intently. Three times round is 1.1 miles. Amanda and I manage once round: about a half kilometre. It's v windy on deck 7 and Amanda feels sea sick. The old speedsters struggle into the head wind and some are blown backwards into the deck bar area.
Whilst booking the Planetarium we encounter a slightly unhinged American woman who is looking for the Planetarium. After explaining it's in the Illuminations room doubling as a cinema she begins arguing that it can't be because it's the Planetarium. I give up explaining to her and walk off leaving her to look alone.
The rest of the morning is spent reading books. I am reading The Black House by Peter May. I don't read fiction often and at 500 pages this looked daunting but Amanda has chosen a riveting book for me. At 1230 I am back in the ball room opposite Amanda learning the waltz. An American keeps tripping into me and I have to tell him to take smaller steps. He is naturally apologetic but he can't seem to help himself. Amanda and I stutter a bit with the steps but after 45 minutes we can just about cope with it and now understand frowning is the concentration needed to count the steps.
Lunch was a disappointment because the Chef's Galley had run low on food. I ate a dry burger and a few fries. Amanda had beef sandwiches and ice cream. Our trip to the Planetarium was excellent. Tom Hanks narrates the 3D visual trip into deep space through our galaxy and into the Virgo Super Cluster and infinity and beyond. We return to Earth via a black hole and miraculously appear in front of the Purser's desk and some nearby Mayfair shops.
This afternoon I settle down with Peter May, Amanda and a can of Coke in the Commodore's bar at the ship's bow. Eventually I am distracted by the loud nasal, American drawl of a theatrically camp sounding man regaling a timid couple with his tales of Frank Woolworth on board a ship. Camp man looks about 60 with dyed crimplene hair decked out in a beige nylon looking safari suit. He couldn't possibly know The Frank Woolworth, he's too young. Why was he burdening the timid couple with his tiresome noise? It turns out he's a ship's tour guide - oops. We return to our cabin to the sound of a Johnny Cash song, 'Ring Of Fire', being belted out from the Royal Court theatre on deck 3. Amanda eats chocolate. Tonight it's cocktails, dinner and ballroom in that order.
Reeling from 3 heady cocktails I make my uncertain way to dinner dressed formally in black tie, the order of dress for the evening. Amanda seems not to be affected. We think the travel sickness pills neutralise the effects of the alcohol. The dinner is served by Arnel our Filipino waiter and the Fleurie provided by Maxim from Russia. Arnel is away from his family 9 months a year and Maxim is studying photography via a correspondence course. He is interested in my Sony NEX5 and its 28-200mm lens. I also consume a Sauvignon Blanc and a Tokai. Feeling marvellous we find ourselves back in the ball room after dinner. Dance experts everywhere but the elegant black and white ball vista is jarred by the same American and his young Chinese bride who continually collided into me earlier. He is wearing a blue shirt, white collar with red tie and casual trousers; his bride in red and wearing trainers. The ballroom dress code is strictly not enforced. Amanda and I have one dance, a mixture of a speeded up waltz and rhythmic coordinated shuffling and it seems to work fine. Exhausted we retire to bed high on booze, a stiff breeze and travel sickness pills.
Amanda:
The beginning of nausea hits me today in the library - usually a place of contentment for me - and I grimly mainline ginger biscuits and swallow seasickness tablets to counter it. It's the first of our black-tie events tonight. I think I will feel odd in a proper cocktail frock but the actual consumption of cocktails puts pay to that - perhaps we have inadvertently discovered the origins of the phrase 'cocktail dress'. It is the black and white ball - I am cheating with a dress of pale gold with black lace overlay. A zealous photographer snaps us - me with a blatant expression of fear and distrust which is my usual response to anyone waving a camera at me.
We discover a new cocktail bar with too many delicious cocktails to choose from (and nary an hibiscus in sight) but manage to try three. Our friendly sommelier is now reduced to enthusiastically applauding my choice of wines rather than venturing an opinion. I feel bad for him and coax him into making recommendations for Paul's nightly dessert wine which seems to make him nervous. We watch some couples who clearly practice - to varying degrees of success - ballroom dancing all year for the opportunity of displaying on the dance floor. It rather inhibits the usual twitch and jig type of modern dancing but makes for a fascinating spectacle. We observe the ungainly flailing of the waltzers who cannoned into us with such enthusiasm and a large bearded man who pushes his wife determinedly around the floor as if she were a recalcitrant shopping trolley, with an utterly blank expression on his face whilst she gazes up adoringly at him.
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