Paul:
There is a palpable rocking of the QM2 today. The short walk to deck 2 for breakfast is a challenge especially for the folks with sticks, all of us listing and lurching our unsteady way to the Britannia restaurant. Some folk look green cling to the opulent fabric walls and highly polished wooden hand rails. Today's meals, I thought, were the best yet: eggs benedict at breakfast; lamb mango korma for lunch and a large fillet steak smothered in chicken liver pate for dinner. The wine at dinner was an Aussie Cabernet sauvignon: The 19th Meeting.
After breakfast we are two of the very few people to walk the one lap around deck 7. The 15' waves smashed into the heavy black Atlantic swell and ship's hull. The head wind was so strong that I thought the doors had been magnetically locked but it was the strength of the whistling gale preventing their movement. On the port side we were sprayed with salt machine gunned in from the Atlantic swell for the entire length of the deck. The rest of the morning was spent reading Black House. I never thought I'd finish it so quickly but it is a compelling read.
Making our way through the communal areas I expected to see the motorised wheelchairs rolling furiously out of control up and down the length of the ship's 300' corridors in synchrony with the ship's lurching progress. We searched in vain for the White Star luggage transfer office. The map showed its exact spot but like platform 9 and three quarters in a JK Rowling story, it wasn't visible to us muggles. Later in the day we found it and Will explained it only appears at specific times - like Brigadoon perhaps. On the upside we did get to see lots more Mayfair shops! Amanda has seen a hoody she'd like.
At 1230 we resumed our ballroom lessons alongside 40 other couples and today we were shown the Rumba by the patient Russian teaching couple. The ship's rock and roll pitch made for tricky coordination. It was like trying to dance on a crowded Northern Line tube train. I grasped the first part but the 2nd and 3rd parts were difficult; putting the moves together was beyond me. Amanda seemed better at this. Tomorrow is the Quick Step. At lunch we avoided the King's Court and dined in the Britannia. This afternoon I snoozed through some of an excellent lecture about our solar system and the Orion Nebulae where stars are born.
This evening is the Commodore's cocktail party, another formal dress day. Having drunk a bottle of fizz between us Amanda ands I saunter into the party. Someone announces our name and Commodore Chris greets us and in a flash our photo is taken with him on the unsteady Queen's ball room floor. Amanda and I chatted with the ship's doctor and his missus. They were pleased to hear an English accent. The doctor choose a career with Cunard rather than be an FME with the police. Like me he is on his 2nd marriage. Commodore Chris made a speech about the rough sea and the QM2 before announcing a list of the different nationalities on board. The Americans are the most numerous: well over 1000. There are 2 folk from Belarus: the rarest. I half expected the Commodore to offer a cash prize for anyone who could photograph the rarest groups for the ship's wall of images.
After a superb dinner I inadvertently agreed to see a potted version of Pride & Prejudice performed by 6 people casually dressed. It was supposed to last 45 mins but at 60 mins it ploughed on oblivious to some of the audience having fallen asleep. It seemed like the entire book was being performed. Finally we were released. Amanda thought the play should have expanded and emphasised the key part of the story about Wickham. Thank God they forgot, it would have been longer than the book. Exhausted now I fall into bed. It seems we do not put out clock back 1 hour tonight.
Amanda:
Having thought with some complacency that I understood the attraction of a navy career as being entirely about dressing up and consuming cocktails, I now feel some sympathy as I realise that nausea is also a part of being at sea. The commodore exclaims with delight about the 'lively' weather and I suspect he has CCTV rigged up for him to laugh at the staggering of afflicted passengers across his ship. I have had 2 solid days on seasick tablets which helps but essentially they seem to work by rendering the patient unconscious - effective but not good for actually experiencing anything other than oblivion. I struggle to stay awake whilst sitting just about anywhere. Only a challenging struggle around the deck, clinging on to salt-encrusted railings to avoid falling, keeps me awake. Tomorrow I will have to go cold turkey or risk passing the entire trip in a grog of semi-consciousness. Paul claims not to have taken any travel sickness medication but what else could have rendered him so unconscious through RADA's rendition of Pride and Prejudice? Perhaps he was concentrating with his eyes closed (they read an abridged version of the book rather than act it) although it doesn't explain the slightly agape mouth - awe?
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