Albina's non-birthday

 

Today is supposedly Albina's birthday. Well, near enough. She is actually a leap year baby and there is no Feb 29th this year. She likes to pretend she can do without a birthday in such years. But today, or thereabouts, she is 75. Such a non-birthday cannot be ignored despite her reluctance.

A considerable swell had picked up in the Mediterranean and the ship was rolling and swaying, and it was making movement around the room, let alone around the ship, a little crazier. Weather was still overcast even though bits of blue sky peeked through now and again.

I woke Albina at 8 and served her with a cup of tea and a birthday card. I suggested we go to breakfast but she said that as I had claimed it was her birthday she would stay in bed for longer. I went to breakfast on my own, and, as before, I brought down two buttered rolls and two slices of water melon as tribute. We checked the programme in the Daily Times and I suggested an beginers lesson on bridge at 10am, Lunch at 12, bearing in mind that Albina had had no breakfast and so would be hungry, a scavenger hunt at 3pm and a dinner at the Colours and Tastes Chinese restaurant at 8pm. She decided the scavenger's hunt was not for her and the beginners bridge session was a little too soon. Maybe tomorrow. We spent a quiet two hours in the Piano Bar drinking tea and made our way to tea. We could just make out the coast of Algeria. In the meantime, I asked one of the senior catering staff at the Vine to be book us a place for two at Colours and Tastes.

I get the daily newsheet. The situation is getting more alarming with every day as Chna playing a double game, offering to meduate between Russia and Ukraine on the one hand, and agreeing to sell drones and other weapons to the Russians on the other. This is serious because it seems that the Western strategy of defending democracy with the last drop of Ukrainian blood in order to see Russia implode, is no longer realistic. China will make sure Russia will never collapse, and will want to ensure both sides wear each other out, a prospect that Ukraine may not endure forever. China cannot let America and the West win this conflict, while it still has the goal as the takeover of Taiwan and the consolidation of the South China Sea as Chinese territorial waters. Interesting too that Sunak now claims to hae a sensible agreement with the EU over the Northern Ireland Protocol under the so-called Windsor Framework, but we still do not know if the DUP will go along with this insrutabable settlement based on fitting the Brexit square into the EU single market circle. If they do not there will be no devolved government in Northern Ireland, some 100 Tories will vote against, a couple of ministers will resign and Sunak will squeeze the agreement through with Labou otes, this further undermining his authority. After that either Johnson will return, or the country would face a snap election, perhaps at the same time as the local election, while we are still on our tour. The ship publishes a daily 4 page newspaper to keep things up to date. 

I remain concerned because all my instructions to my bank are not coming through, ever since we left London. I have a dialogue of sorts with their problem team but with intermittent connections this is a worry, especially when I will not be paying off my credit card or paying the Council Tax in the middle of March.

After lunch we rested in the cabin, while I prepared myself for going on this Scavenger Hunt. The aim was to look for clues all around the ship which will reveal letters amounting to a missing anagram. We started at Times Square at the foot of the large central statue and we all got selected into pairs. I partnered Helen from my evening quiz team. We started from the top and took in the Observatory and Arts centre on Deck 9, and worked our way down through Deck 8,5 and 4, until I finally dropped down to Deck 1 to take in the medical centre. Of course, we took far too long and the winning pair did the round after 32 minutes, winning a free meal in one of the ship's speciality restaurants. We just made it in 50 minutes, by which time the ship's crew who acted as judges had given away the prize voucher and gone home. The word hidden behind the anagram was Phileas Fogg, which we could have guessed once we found one letter F and two letters G. But it was a fun way to spend an hour and a good exercise. Helen glided around the ship by lift, while I ran up and down the many staircases like a madman. But it was a fun way to spend an hour and a good exercise as well. I need to move around the ship more now that Albina has barred me from the gym. 

Slowly the turbulence of the wind and waves tempered itself. We were sailing on calmer waters again. We had booked the restaurant for 8pm and the time seemed to drag on relentlessly. We sat in the piano bar for some time listening to the ship's in house piano vocalist Steve Thiebault and drinking our Kopparberg cider, when I suddenly realised that my watch had stopped. Checking with the time on our phones we realised it was not 6.30pm as I thought, but 9.30pm! We had missed our booking at the restaurant. I rushed downstairs to apologize to the restaurant staff and found that it was still quite busy. The lady manager, impeccably polite, seemed quite happy for us to come in even at this late hour. We quickly repaired to our cabin to look more presentible and made our downstairs to the Colours and Tastes restaurant, armed with the birthday card I had given her that morning.

The restaurant looked as delightful inside as it was from the outside, decorated with Chinese screens and various Asian motifs. There appeared to be two rooms. The front one was dotted with individual small tables, while at the rear in another beautifully decorated was a larger communal table where guests could meet and share their experience of the food. We had our reserved table for two still waiting for us, despite our lateness for which we profusely aplogized. We ordered a bottle of the Chilean La Rocas red wine that she likes so much. We were given a clear description of the choices of Asian dishes for the starters and main course, and some clear recommendations. Albina chose a tasteful avocado based starter, while mine wasa seafood concoction. then for the main course she served a pear shaped stuffed lobster formation, while I had grilled beef with a selection of vegetables, plus jasmine rice and long pepper salad strips offered in separate bowls. The presentation in each case was as colourful a attractive, as the taste was delicious, full of unexpected sensations as different flavours manifested themselves. Once we had finished the main course, we realised that at least five of the elegant uniformed staff waitresses gathere around our table. I sensed a moment of occasion which I was somewhat apprehensive about. Obviously, they had wind from their computerized records that it was Albina's birthday, and the last thing would have wanted was for them to burst into one of those  aggressive birthday greeting song, as they had done a few days before to other victims in the Borealis Restaurant. However, they chirped a sweet spoken birthday greeting to Albina and then stepped aside to allow in the chef who brought in a rich looking cake topped with chocolate and adorned with one single lighted candle. The ladies then clapped and invited Albina to blow out the candle. One of staff then took a picture with my camera of Albina and the cake. Albina thanked them and joked about this really being a non-birthday as she was actually a leap year baby, with a proper birthday only once every four years, and was therefore in fact only 19 years old.

I then chose this moment to make a surprise of my own. In the presence of these ladies I presnted Albina with the ring encrusted with three diamonds which I had secretly bought for her near Hatton Gardens on my underused credit card, only a week before our departure. I could read on her face that she was both astonished and delighted by this present. that was the best news for me. The waitresses who witnessed this also took in a sharp intake of breath before they squealed excitedly at this presentation. They even called over their colleagues who came to admire the ring perched on Albina's third finger. Albina quoted them Shirley Bassey's theme that "Diamonds are forever", and they responed knowingly with Marilyn Monroe's "Diamonds are a girl's best friend". The whole atmosphere was just perfect. And yet it had nearly not come to pass, because my stupid watch had broken down.  

The cake looked almost too rich. We asked our main waitress to cut a small slice for each of us, and then to share the remainder among themselves. Even that slice was so rich we could barely finish it after the meal we had just enjoyed. They even offered us a dessert from their menu, but we thanked them profusely, and just opted for camomile tea, to give our stomachs some relief from the preceding heavy tastes. We left them a proper tip of course, as a thank you for the whole experience, a true cocktail of sensations, both in sight, taste and smell. On the way to our cabin, still clutching the half empty bottle of Chilean wine, we popped up a floor to the Morning Light Lounge, where my colleagues were participating in a somewhat delayed general knowledge quiz. I introduced Albina to them, explained why I could not join them this time, while Sharon and Helen admired Albina's ring. 

We finally dragged ourselves down to our cabin and let our beds take the weight off our heavy bloated bodies. And one other satisfactory note. Following considerable correspondence with the U.S. network staff of Barclays, I was able to arrange the transfer of 450 pounds to my Barclaycard, the first down payment for Albina's diamond ring. Well, you got to start somewhere.

Rock of Gibraltar

I woke at 7 in the morning and could see the the outline of some land from our balony. I sensed that if this was on the starboard side then it was probably the African coast. I hastily rushed up to the observatory where I could see some land on the Spanish side as well and we were heading for the wide gap in between. The observatory was still deserted but a passenger sitting there told me authoritatively that we would be passing through the Strait of Gibraltar sometime before 10am.

I returned downstairs to wake Albina and get her ready for breakfast. Fellow passengers were abuzz about the imminence of crossing past Gibraltar and discussed it with each other the buffet breakfast. Sure enough by 9.30 Albin and I got back into the Observatory to watch progress through the Strait. The famous rock loomed bigger and bigger on our port side. Once the first sentinel of the mighty British Empire's route to its pearl in India, it was now a sorry shadow of global Britain, simmering on the back plate of its latent conflict with Spain. So much metaphorically. Visually, it is a magnificent spectacle, dominating the surrounding Spanish countryside, and visible even from northern Africa. On the opposite side, Gibraltar is challenged visually by the distant view of Mount Jebel Mousa in Morocco. I suppose I should feel some kind of frisson at the sight of the Dark Continent appearing to us in the hazy morning light. After all it is now the second continent on our route which takes us through five continents, but I just felt relief that we had now left the Atlantic for the seemingly quieter waters of the Mediterranean. We passed the Rock it around 10 o'clock UK time.Sure enough, the overcast skies over the Bay of Biscay were now tirning to sunshine, as Albina and I spent the whole morning sitting on our balcony.  We crossed the quiet Albaran Sea between the coasts of Spain and Morocco, the antechamber of the Mediterranean, and ploughed on at 21 knots westwards in the direction of Sardinia and Sicily

After lunch we opted to see a film in the Auditorium, a feelgood movie called "Mrs Harris goes to Paris". It was good that Albina chose even that kind of activity, even though it was a sedate one. Better than sitting in her cabin. We were confused at first because our telephones indicated that time had moved forward by one hour. However we discovered just in time, before we reached the Auditorium, that the ship was still following London and Lisbon time. The film itself was ideal fairy tale stuff about a naive London cleaner and war widow who flew to Paris to buy an expensive Christian Dior gown. It was briming with genuine humour as the plucky Mrs Harris chased her dream and overcame class and language barriers to obtain her frock and ultimately, after a disastrous fire accident, to wear it.     

After dinner at the Borealis Restaurant, Albina watched a film and I went for another quiz session with my team mates Ranald, Sharon, Helen, Tony and Lisa. The subject was movies and music in the Sixties, an apt subkect for a wrinklies tour. Again we were good runners up, but never quite there. We got 12 points and the winners 14. Again I could kick myself for not pushing for Honor Blackman as being the Bond girl in Goldfinger, rather than Shirley Eaton, who died at the beginning of the film bathed in gold paint. I watched a bit of a very colourful presentation of Beatles songs in a song and dance show in the Neptune Theatre, where the most stroking feature were the stage background screens which changed dramatically with each song. I finally turned in by midnight.          

Whirlwind tour of Lisbon

 

Armed only with our plastic yellow keys we ventured out yesterday on a quick tour of Lisbon. We clambered on to a coach, which was quite high for Albina but even more difficult for some of our elderly fellow passengers with walking sticks, Looking back it was the first time I could actually take a proper look at the ship. As we had disembarked through the lowest deck it now seemed gigantic, but it had docked between two other cruise liners even larger and more overwhelming in size. Our Portuguese guide, Tina, certainly made a good impression. 

The first port of call was the Hieronymites Monastery, rebuilt by King Manoel I in the XVIth century with all the riches from the Portuguese trade with India. It was alarge building, almost the size of the British Parliament, but sumptuous in detail, with an ornate entrance, but beautiful subtle decorations and pinnacles along the walls. There was an long queue formed to visit the legendary beautiful cloisters and large sections of the building were now occupied by two museums, one of archaeology, the other of naval history, which in the cas of Portugal, was of real world signifivance. Beyond that was a beautiful Catholic church contemporary to the monastery, with the faiithful just walking in for their Sunday mass. There was no time to go inside but the cafe opposite the front entrance to the monastery showed post cards showing the lavish late Gothic interior of the church. On the other side of the road was a massive white nwely built fortress-like building supposedly a cultural centre, which houses the local design museum. Pity that the sense of design affected only the contents and not the outer structure. It reminded me of the brutalist architecture of the National Theatre, with all the glorious theatrical sensations experienced inside, in direct contrast to the horrors of the building perched over the Thames.

After a 15 minute break we were driven by coach to a square where we picked up the promised tram. Red in colour, this wooden structure looked ancient, solid and reliable, with just the right sense of reliabilty with which which could enjoy an adventurous ride through the winding and undulating streets of old Lisbon. We were greeted by a pretty young lady, beautifully dressed in a bright red national costume. Once the journey had started she served us glasses of port and those lovely little custard pots invented in medieval Lisbon, the nata. A lovely experience, especially as the port was served liberally by this beautifully adorned maiden, so appealing in sight to us wrinklies, while the nata tasted even sweeter than in a London Nando's.The journey in the tram lasted around 45 minutes, and it was a true joy ride up and down through the narrow streets as the tram appeared to brush against pedestrians on 12 inch wide pavements and street cafe tables full of tourists, almost appearing to touch them, but without reducing its speed. The journey may have seen haphazard but it was smooth enough on its rails for us to be able to hold our glasses port without spilling anything. Tina had warned we could drink as much as we liked provided we were sober enough to be able to get off the tram at the end of the journey. She pXointed out various features but it was all too bewildering to take in first time round, and certainly I had completely lost all sense of direction. The main feature I remmber was the national Parliament building with its classical facade, and the arge number of house frontages covered in native Moorish ceramic tiles. Suddenly we emerged from this labyrinth of ancient streets onto the wider seried streets of post earthquake XVIIIth century Lisbon, and stopped at Rossio Square.                                                                 

We picked up the coach again at this square and proceed along the wide Avenida de Liberdade to the Square of the Restorers, which commemorated the uprising in 1640 which led to Portugal recovering its independence from Spain. We drove further along this wide tree lined boulevard, surrounded by elegant shops and beautiful frontages of bright ceramic tiles, and past the massive Pombal monument, displaying the proud enlightened despot who helped rebuild Lisbon after the destruction of the massive earthquake in 1755, as momentous a moment in the history of Lisbon as the Great Fire of 1666 was to London. The monument also showed a beautiful statue of an upright woman symbolizing the rebirth of the city from the intense earthquake tremors and accompanying fire and flood. We reached the pinnacle of the Avenida de Libersade  at the beautifully lansdcaped Edward VII Park from the higher part of which we could catch a glimpse of the glorious vista of the Portugal's capital overlooking the Tagus and bookmarked with the ancient hill fort, the Castelo de Sao Jorge, on the left and the massive April 24 bridge on the right. We drove back down into the restored city centre by way of the Aurea (Golden) Street passing through a richly adorned arcg that opens up onto the strategic riverside square called the  Praca do Comercio, surrounded a three sides with classical porticoes fronting various government offices. At the centre of this square was a statue of King Joseph 1st on a horse. This was the king who appointed Pombal to rescue the city. Next to it was the municipal square with the neo-classical Town Hall and centred around the a thin white monunent symbolizing justice. Bizarrely, it was site of the ancient pillory where the bodies of executed prisoners were displayed. 

After that the coach turned towards the port and deposited us at the cargo terminal. Unfortunately that  building was being rebuilt so that none of the escalators were working. There were the usual security checks through metal gates but we had to go up a very steep slope around the building which was very discomforting to those of my frailer fellow travellers with their walking sticks and not so easy for Albina either. When we reached the ship we were starving. There were no promised refreshments on the journey (port and nata not included), but we managed to find late aftenoon tea at the poolside where I enjoyed a delicious fish and chips and Albina had grilled tuna with salad which was just as tasty. At least here by the poolside the catering manager looks like a character and a ladies man and is able to serve us with a merry grufness that I found refreshing. Within half an hour of our boarding the vessel it had cast off.

We sailed off under the immense 3 kilometer long April 24 bridge. It was a colossal suspension bridge  built in the days of the dictator Salazar by the same engineers responsible for the Golden Gate bridge in San Francisco. It had a railway suspended under the roadway. The cars moved along like little white pebbles as we approached it and it was an extraordinary feeling after having dominated the quayside that our vessel could fit so snugly underneath the bridge. As the evening approached I sat in the Observatory over the prow, up on Deck 9, with Albina, while we watched our ship slip by the explorers memorial and the Belem Tower, used by Prince Henry the Navigator, to launch his many ships and steer his mariners to the Cape of Good Hope, to India, to Brazil, and beyond. Further out lay the Atlantic again as our ship made its night time progress towards the Mediterranean Sea. 

All in all, it was a whirlwind tour, but we saw a lot and both agreed that we would like to come back and sample the culture of Lisbon again. If only there were not so many hills.

We had eaten so well, but so late in the afternoon, that when it came to dinner Albina did not have the appetite to each. So I went to our apportioned table no. 93 in the Borealis Restaurant and had my meal on my own. The concerned waiter asked after Albina and was concerned that he had not seen us for two nights, so I gave hm an account of events. Certainly the service in Borealis is polite and efficient, but with a certain overeagerness to please. Perhaps that is for the best. The female waitresses are all of Asian appearance, all seem to wear the same smile, as if painted on, and use similar cosmetics, and all have their brushed back and tied in a bow. All very practical, but it is a bit like being served by an advanced A.I. I suppose with time their individual personalities will develop as we all get more familiar with each other. 

I was very disappointed to pick up on my i-phone that Iga Swiatek had lost the final match to Krejcikova at the Dubai Tennis Championships. Later that evening, while Albina watched a film on our TV screen, I chose to obviate my misery over Swiatek by relishing another session of general knowledge quiz with the two couples who form my current team. Only nine and a half points out of 15 this time, but the winners only scored twelve and a half, so again, we were not humiliated. In the course I had to quickly calculate how many miuntes in a week (100080), and how many letters in supercalifragilisticexpialidotius (34) and the half point for instance was to get the real name of John Wayne, including his middle name. The half mark was to name his first name and surname Marion Morrison, but the full mark was awarded if you knew his middle name, Robert. (who knew?). One curious moment. The quizmistress asked suddenly where there was anyone fromLondon as the next question was based on cockney rhyming slang. Imagine my surprise when, in a crowded room of about sixty people, I was the only persona to put my hand up. What's more, I still got the answer about the rhyming slang wrong. With such trivia is a merry time spent in good company.   

Arriving in Lisbon

 I had a bad night. I woke up choking with what I thought was phlegm and rushed to the bathroom tospit it out. To my disgust it was a ball of deep red blood. I looked at it in amazement. I carried on spitting blood from my mouth. I turned the water on. No water. I pushed the button over the toilet. No water. I remembered suddenly that that night they was to be a water shut down as they drained the system to ensure a fresh water supply. I sat up on the settee and eventually dozed off. The water came back at 5am and I was able to clear off the blood. I experienced a nosebleed at that moment but it would quickly stopped. It was like an aftershock from the original outlet of blood in the middle of the night. However, Albina and I came to a very sad conclusion. This was probably caused by my visit to the gym. I very much doubt if I can use the gym facilities at all after that. 

I woke at 7.15 anxious to catch the moment we approached the Tagus River. Suddenly, through the curtains, I could see a whole city of yellow, red and gold looming over the view from our balcony, where before there had only been sea. It was a glorious sight, dominated by a domed church, the Santa Engracia. I put on my winter jacket and rushed upstairs to the top deck to take a few pictures. I was surprised how few of the passengers were up there. I found out conversations yesterday that many were seasoned travellers and had been to Lisbon before. Our own organized excursion around Lisbon by tram and coach was only going to be in the afternoon. So we both repaired to breakfast at the View buffet. Suddenly all the intenet and telephone links had opened up and Albina was busy chatting to her closest friends and sending them pictures of Lisbon. I opened up a Facebook page for Lisbon and showed comparative pictures of Lisbon, first in the morning mist, and later under a welcome blue sky.

  

Around Finisterre

 

Looking from our balcony this morning the sea seemed darker, even blackish. The sky remained overcast, like yesterday. It had obviously rained overnight as the outerfloor of the balcony was wet. Luckily Albina had moved our two deckchairs near our door and they were not affected by the rain.

Today we decided to try for abrekfast in the posh Borealis restaurant. We found breakfast here a different service from the View buffet. You had to order from a set meu and the ever unctuous staff brought you anything you needed. Nowadays neither of us are capable of doing justice to a full all singing and all dancing English breakfast, Albina opted for an eggs benedicte, while I chose a green yoghurt, and after that a plate of porridge garnished with honey, cinnamon and fruit. I don't even like porridge but somehow I felt I was being kind to my body by rejecting the fried meal. Even then I had to finish the eggs benedicte as Albina ate only one of the two portions supplied. Frankly we preferred to select our own food, so probably we won't try this restaurant for breakfast again. 

We checked the massive programme on board again today but Albina could not be bothered to try anything. We stayed in the cabin until lunch. We sat for a time together reading in a cosy corner of the Ocean Bar, I had decided to start reading  another Polish novel - "Ashes" by Stefan Zeromski, but frankly I found it hard going to get immersed. Then I opted to try out the gym.

It was situated on Deck 5 overlooking the prow of the ship, When I did my 30 minute walk on the treadmill I was in the middle of the glass front with the best view of where we were heading. Not that there was anything to see, It was good to familiarize myself again with the rowing machine, the leg press and the chest press, and I returned to my room quite pleased with myself. 

We got ready to go for our dinner at the Borealis Restaurant. Unfortunately when we got to the restaurant the staff at both the Aurora and Borealis Restaurants were standing like a phalanx, singing outheir welcome. Albina was so shocked that she turned on her heel and refused to eat there. I know Albina is exceptionally thin skinned and tending to panic in such situations, but there is something distinctly off-putting in this excessive  overeager attempt to be of service.

However, I have one niggling problem.Since this morning I have no internet link, even though I have bought wifi access. I am told this happens occasionally but it had virtually cut off any access to my blog by anyone reading it and also blocked off my access to the latest news, including news on Iga Swiatek's progress at the Dubai tennis tournament, and more importantly access to my bank account.

That night I watched a comedian magician perform at the Neptune Theatre and took part in a General Knowledge Quiz. I seem to have become part of a team. We got 13 right out of 15 questions, but we were nowhere being a winner. Tonight the ship will head round Cape Finisterre and continue along the Spanish and Portuguese coast to reach Lisbon by 8am tomorrow morning.

Into the Bay of Biscay

When we woke in the morning the cabin was pitch black. The ship seemed still so I thought we must have stopped somewhere. It was around 7.30 so I drew the curtains. I was assailed by the sight of sea. Sea, sea, sea. The waves lapped as vigorously as I had imagined but the vessel was ploughing through steadily, with just the occasional gentle roll. It was a great weight off my mind, as I wondered how I could take such a continuous journey across seas and oceans without getting sea sickness. The sea was blue grey in colour with occasional ships on the horizon. No sign of land. I had never previously experienced being in the sea without any sign of land. I checked on the TV tracker and found that we were just leaving the English Channel and would soon be in the Bay of Biscay.

Albina was still decidedly unwell with her back hurting. She had barely slept at all during the night. I rubbed her spine and her shoulders and this seemed to give her some relief. I went up to the View Bar to have some breakfast. I saw this was going to be our main eating area throughout the journey. It was on Deck 8, where the pitch and roll of the ship could be felt much more than in our Cabin in Deck 6. It meant you felt a little drunk as you carried your food to the table apportioned to you by the excessively polite staff but it was pleasant enough, even amusing. I could see other guestes were enjoying it. It was a buffet menu but served up by a careful staff in about 5 different stations along the length of the buffet. I was on the port side but there was a similar line up matching it on the starboard side. The choice of food was so huge between standard English breakfast fried, Italian meats, fruit, cereal and pastry that I simply lost all appetite. I had similar experiences in the past when on holiday in places with large buffet areas the size of a mini museum. Spoilt for choice is the key word here. Cowed by this cornucopia of food I chose a yoghurt, a cranberry jiuce, and some fruit. That was it! My main concern was to get some rolls with strawberry jam down to Albina so that she could enjoy her usual morning bedside breakfast which I served her every day at home. I had insisted before the journey that she gets up each morning when on board and shares breakfast with me, but obviously not when in this pain. Albina was in bed and on my advice, which she had no reason to challenge, she stayed in bed for the rest of the morning and into the early afternoon.  

I did some more exploring on the vessel. Some of the most features of the vessel were only beginning to register with me. Yesterday's whirlwind guided tour let us largely confused as there was so much to see. There was this extraordinary sculpture/statue plonked in the centre of Deck 3, marked as Times Square on the map of the ship. This striking monument stretched up through two more floor decks above and was surrounded by an attractive wide spiral stair case. At its base was a giant rectangular box some 3 metres high with three clock faces on the shorter side and four clocks surrounding a nautival feature on the starboard side and a painted clock of the seasons showing zodiac signs on the port side.  Above it were 4 large astrolabes at each corner surronding an open middle section with what looked like 4 gold monster dolphins, surrounding in turn by classical columns, holding up an ornamental copper onion shaped dome. This in turn was supporting a large blue, more than life size, Atlas figure bearing a giant globe on his weary back. Meaning? God knows. Obviously something to do with man's ability to surmount technical difficulties to master sea travel and be able to see the world. My guess is as good as yours. 

All over the ship, but especially on Deck 4 and 5, there were wide promenade spaces interspersed with quite intimate niches of unexpected charm. On Deck 4 there was the Colours and Taste Restaurant serving Chinese food, which from the outside had the appearance of hidden cosy little private enclave of Eastern charm. This section of the deck, adjoining the auditorium, had the appearance of something very intimate, like a medieval street scene.  Above it, on the port side of Deck 5, you had a small niche room with a side entrance called the Bolette Card Room. Here they gave lectures on how to play bridge, and ran competitions playing on green baise covered tables. Beyond that was the Morning Light Pub, the site of various games, live music in the evenings and regular quiz shows. It was like a club room with deep Q Anne chairs and comfortable sofas surrounded by portraits, landscapes, and the painted silhouettes of seagoing schooners on the glass overlooking the sea. Adjoining that was the Library which served elegant and expensive teas with a wide range of mouth watering cakes and chocolates. The cakes were prepared by the ship's catering staff. They also served these delicacies by crossing the aisle leading to the other side of the deck, This wide passageway was overlooked by two oversize models of the Chinese soldiers governing the emperor's tomb in Xian. It led to the Oriental Tea Room, which consisted of two chambers. The smaller one was fitted out like an oriental tea garden with light flowery wallpaper. The other was a grand room with a gigantic wall painting of a seventeenth century sea scape full of Dutch merchant sailing ships entering a port, whilel various nautical instruments were available in display cabinets. Its nautical air was reinforced by the presence of 3 ships; officers in white uniforms drinking tea in one corner, when I visited it on this day. 

The corridors on these two  decks and on the staircases were covered with distinctive paintings in the most multifarious styles, as well as extraordinary oriental artefacts, including two Japanese samurai warriers in full armour. It is only when you see these rooms in your own time, you have a chance to enjoy the rich settings to various activities on this ship, even when not watching the sea.

Exploring and writing, I had allowed Albina to sleep and recover. Perhaps too long. By the time Ihad woken her it was past 2pm and the View Buffet Room was closed. The only place we could get a bite to eat was at the poolside where the first customers were swimming or using the hot ubs. There was only a handful of people there and we were able to order fish and chips for myself and a Santa Fe Salad for Albina. We realized we needed to familiarize ourselves with the opening times in the restaurants to be able to make full use of them. We finished the final unpacking of Albina's third suitcase. In fact, we left most of the items in the suitcase thogh she was finally able to rescue her pyjamas and her warm ankle socks which she needs to keep her arthritic feet warm at night. At home I prepare her a hot water bottle every evening but she wanted to to do without that on holiday. At one moment we had a scare beacuae one of these expensive pairs of sacks seemed to have gone missing and Albina was convinced that one of the maids must have stolen it. It was only late at night she recovered it.

Tonight was formal night which we were determined to avoid. We went to the View buffet restaurant again, knowing that our usual Aurira evening restaurant was reseved for those dressing up. To our surprise a lot of the guests at the buffer restaurant had also turned up in dinner jackets and party frocks, although most, like us, wore smart casual. Albina and I could not understand that. If you want to dress up in glad rage, then fine. But stay with your own kind, if only to live the experience and share the ambience. Ny coming into the buffet restaurant they only served to make both us and themselves uncomfortable. Hope the staff make that clear for the next formal night.

Albina retured to read some Polish magazines and I stayed uo for a quiz night in the Morning Light Pub. So many of the questions were on things like vegetables and fruit and I did not do very weel although I joined a team which came third. 

I must admoit that Albina and I spent most of the time in the cabin However, when I looked at the Daily Times newsletter sent to each cabin first thing in the morning, I was amazed how many activities on board the ship that day we had omitted. A quick summary showed 38 events taking place, all of which we had missed (except for the quiz show). There was a morning Walk-a-Mile, yoga classes, church services, Baggo games in the Ocean Bar, four excursion lectures, music, bridge and craft classes, kitchen creations from behind the curtain in the auditorium, wine lectures, golf putting, line dancing, gym introduction sessions, carpet bowls, introduction to te ukelele, dance classes with waltz and cha cha, shuffleboard, drama classes, killer darts, pilates, table tennis, all at set times, and all their to keep the passengers busy. And you have this wide side wide choice, every day, except perhaps for the some of the excursion days. As with breakfast, the choice is so vast that in the end you lose the will to enjoy any of it. I feel Albina will continiue to avoid any group activities, but I may yet set out plans for some activities for myself.

Aside from the Daily Times, we receive regular broadsheets each morning giving us the news, including politics, culture, sport and financial. So we know about Starmer's five goals, or the wavering by Sunak over the Northern Ireland protocol, or the fact that one of the rail unions has finally settled for 9%. Unfortunately we cannot pick up news bulletins on the TV. There is ostensibly a BBC channel available but for today it seems to linit itself to Doctor Who episodes. There is a movie channel with a wide choice, but otherwise you are cut off from the outside world. So we watched a couple of movies and went to bed at 1pm , much later than I had planned.      

On Board Borealis

 

It was an agonizing night for Albina. The packing saga had not only exhausted but strained her back. She had suferred from back problems all her lifr. She could never stand too long on one spot since childhood, but the efforts of the last 10 hours the previous day had left her in considerable pain. She tossed and turned a lot of the night and I kept waking up and massaging her back, particulrly on the right side. This seemed to giver her temporary relief as the sound of her gentle snore gave witness. 

I got up early on embarkation day to make the final preparations and prepared her tea and her jam and white cheese sandwich as usual, but gamely she too got up by 7.30 and we eventually took our six suitcases and two backpacks. The limousine arrived exactly at 9am like clockwork. Addison Lee had sent us a tracking advice so we kew exactly when the young Bulgarian driver would arrive. We both must have nodded off in the car as it shot down to Southampton Docks and eventually we arrived almost too early. We could just see the top section of the vessel peering over the top of the terminal building. The first customers were only just arriving in their taxis and limousines and there were no staff yet to greet us, except for the porters who scoopled our six suitcases and disappeared in the ferry terminal. We found an almost departure lounge, which was quite chilly, and waited. And waited. And, with a growing impatient throng now around us, we waited until 11.30, more than an hour. 

It was worth looking around the other passengers, all of whom, and I mean all, were aged sixty or over. Some in wheelchairs, some looking frail, but overwhelmingly the majority of couples looked hail and hearty and were quite mobile. There were occasional ladies travelling together, but again overwhelmingly they were white, English speaking, restrained and of the opposite sex to each other. None of the blurred lines of younger people today where you could not tell when one relationship started and another ended. You could see a number of passengers carried pressed suits and dresses on hangers, and you could foresee they would be the Formal Night Brigade. Most too gave the impression of having done this before and some of them had obviously arranged to travel with other couples as they congregated and chatted together. Possibly it was their earlier experience of this sort of holiday, that made them so restrained and patient about the excessive waiting. The occasional passenger was reading today's newspaper, like a last puff of a cigarette before entering a restaurant. Eceptionally I had not seen a newspaper as I had resigned myself to 80 days without a newspaper. I would be reliant only on my phone for an update on what is happening.

After the staff turned up it was like an airport terminal, with all the queueing, document checking, turmoil, hassle you could expect in Terminal 5. We had the required security gate ritual dance as we all slowly filed through taking off  jackets and shoes. As usual I took out my laptop, but perhaps not unsurprisingly, very few other passengers did that. At a normal airport every third person carried a laptop, but obviously the overwhelming majority had decided to leave any office work behind, assuming they were still working. They checked our documents, including out covid test result from the previous day, our printed NHS covid passes, and the lists of our vaccinations. They took away our passports for safekeeping, and also our Esta visa approvals issued by the U.S. Consulate. Apparently, they arrange our passport controls for excursions at each stop on our behalf. I am not quite sure how that will work. I could hear the couple being checked alongside me being asked for the Vietnamese visa confirmations, but we had not been asked for anything like that. Perhaps they were not UK nationals, because we had been given was that Vietnamese visas for UK citizens were not necessary if your visit was less than 15 days. They took down details of Albina's credit card details, so that any expenditure would be credited to her at the end of the voyage. I am sure that at the end of out voyage, whatever appears on that final bill will involve quite a few thousand pounds, will be very painful to digest and will have us rowing over the details. I am sure other couples will go through the same experience. At the end of interrogation, by a very friendly young lady, we were each issued with a yellow coloured plastic card, resembling a credit card, which was in fact the "key to the ship", It had to be produced by us whenever we incurred an expense and was also the key to our cabin, number 6147. 

Armed with this "key" we were able to board the boat following a long covered walk way, but, luckily for Albina, without any steps. We knew our cabin was on the 6th deck and on the starboard side, which even a landlubber like me knew that it was on the right side of the job. We found oursleves in a long narrow corridor that semed to go on to some distant infinity each way we looked, To our right we found doors every five yards or so that vaguely reminded me of prison cells in some nightmare Victorian prison house. We essayed along the corridor checking he numbers as we went along, and soon we had got to 6144, 6146,....and then 6148! Where had ours got to. A couple who followed us and looked like seasoned cruise travellers soon put us right. 6147 was on the other side, he starboard side. Apparently, we were on the port side. But surely, we were.... Of course, we landlubbers had failed to realise whch way was the prow of the ship. We had assumed the ship had been facing the exit from Southampton Water, not the other way round. What we had seen of the top of the ship looming above the cargo terminal on arrival had not made that clear to us.

We crossed off to the real starboard side to enter another long endless narrow corridor. We worked our way past the off door numbers and soon found our cabin 6147, equidistant from each end of the corridor. We applied our plastic key and we were in our cabin, our home for the next 79 days, i.e. 2 months and 16 days. It was a pleasant experience all the same.  It seemed to be about 12 metres long and 4 metres wide, and beyong that we had our private little sun deck with room for two sunloungers. This space included what I considered a generously proportioned double bed, sufficiently wide to be comfortable sleeping to a couple like us used to a super kingsize bed. We had a bathroom with a loo, hand bason and a shower, with three wardrobes, 2 bedside cabinets and 6 and 9 shelves. Apart from that the cabin included a mirror, a small fridge, a TV, a long comfortable sofa and a glass top table surmounted by a bottle of unopened champagne. Other little treasures we found as we examined the fat was a world atlas, a copy of Verne's "Around the World in 80 Days", a pair of binoculars, a couple of towel type dressing gowns and a couple of brollies. We had brought with us a very heavy Times World Atlas, very unweildy to open up somewhere and use, so the provision of this atlas in the room was a pleasant surprise. It made our heavy atlas weighing at least five kilos quite useless. 

We began the long process of unpacking but with Albina suffering from her backache this was a long and painful process. We found our way to something called the View Bar two decks above us where had a pleasant buffet lunch and did a little bit of exploring.  

Then at 3.30pm with the ship still in port and many passengers still boarding for the lower decks, we joined a group at the Ocean Bar on the deck below us to have a guided tour around the vessel. The Borealis is 27 years old and it is one of the smaller cruise ships (thank God!) with a length of 237 metres. It has 702 cabins, many smaller than ours, although there were very roomy suites in the deck just above us. I worked out that the number of cabins in our long long corridor was around 60 and you can double that with the same number of cabins on the port side. Altogether the ship has 1360 guests and 662 crew. So around crew member per two passengers. 

There are a total of ten decks open to the public although the lowest three are filled with cabins which could be described as economy. They were without their balcony, but with access to a sea view through a porthole. Deck 4 is the Main Deck with a two storey restaurant at the rear where we would be expecting to have our evening meals and the Neptune Lounge at the front of the vessel which is effectively a theatre, which also stretches up through two storeys. The ship's crew includes an entertainment team  which was supposed to be hosting a Welcome Aboard Show that night hosted by Sammie to whom I had written a couple of weeks to go about Jules Verne, but they also stage shows by guest entertainers, including one next day with a virtuoso violinist. Between the restaurant and the theatre are some key offices such as Guest Services and the excursion organizers at Destination Services, and also the Auditorium, a comfortable cinema and lecture theatre, which has a full demonstration kitchen hidden behind the stage, where various chefs would show how to make meals characteristic for the countries we would be visiting. The guide was not able to confirm whether the films would include one of the versions of "80 Days".   

The deck below our cabin, Deck 5, also wedged between the top floor of the reaturant at the rear and top floor of the Neptune entertainment centre at the front, is the aforementioned Ocean Bar where we started our tour, a scattering of boutiques, a number of specialist eating places, such as the Oriental Tea Room which displayed the most delicious cakes, a library and a card room. Two decks above our cabin are the swimming pool and two hot tubs, with spa and gym facilities further forward beyond that. At the other end of this deck is the buffet restaurant where we had our lunch, with a tea and coffee station where Albina and I helped ourselves to a welcome cup of tea, while the tour moved on. We rejoined it in the floor above (Deck 9) with a wonderful view over the prow of the ship called The Observatory. At the back of that deck were sports facilities and an arts centre. Above all this was a top sun deck but we did not bother to go there. It was a cold winter evening drawing on and we would have plenty of time to visit it in the next months as we plough along the equator.

We went downstairs to carry on with the unpacking. We finished my three suitcases. Once we were in full flow we found our seemingly roomy cabin too cramped. Many of our clothes remained folded and packed in our suitcases, which thankfully we were able to shove under the bed. As the evening wore on Albina was in increasing pain and we stopped short of unpacking the last of her three suitcases.  

Then we found our way for evening dinner at the Borealis Restaurant at the lower level at the back of ship, so two floors down from us. There had been a choice of two different sittings but all along we had opted for the earlier one at 6.15pm. I put on a smarter jacket and we made our way down. We had a lovely little table (no. 93) waiting for us, a permanent place for each evening including Formal Nights. If we chose not to attend those somewhat pompous events we would eat in the buffet reastaurant. The food was excellent and we chose to celebrate this with a glass of Chilean wine. The staff as ever were giving a perfect service, with perfect politeness, perfect efficiency and a perfect smile. I found it a little uncanny as if they were caricatures without any personality. They all appeared to be oriental. Throughout any of the restaurant or cleaning staff I found no Indian, Arab, black of white crew members. All seemed to be Filipino or Thai. They had their task drilled into them and they carried it out with military precision. I sensed however that they were not painted smiles and our Thai waiter made some welcome suggestions when I mentioned as we were leaving that Albina's chicken was a little dry. He told us that next time she orders grilled chicken he will supply some gravy. 

While we continued with our meal in quiet conversation the restaurant suddenly erupted into song as a group of waiters burst out with a round of excessively jolly "Happy Birthday" songs for unsuspectng guests. They obviously had all this information in their computerized records, but I am not sure that all the guests, some of whom were really elderly, wanted to have their birthdays recalled. One lady at a nearby table was a victim of this aural assault though she took it gamely. Her husband told me as he left, that she was 80. I promised Albina I would not reveal details of her birthday, but I cannot get round what the computer records show. As she is a leap year and there is February 29th this year, she might just get away with it. During the meal Albina her back pain was intensifying. I suggested cutting short the desset but she still wanted to have her lemon sorbet. After that we returned in the cabin and stayed there. I foregoed the general knowledge quiz and the opening night at the entertainment centre and settled down for the night.

In the meantime Kasia and Tony contact us to say that they could see us off when the vessel passed Calshot Point at the final headland in Southampton Water. Sure enough the Borealis sailed at 8pm. As we aproached the lighthouse at Calshot I flashed my torch at them and they flashed back with their headlights. Of course we couldn't see each other in the dark, but we both caught sight of the light flashes. A cool way to reord a farewell for our departure.

 

The day before

 Yesterday was the last day at work with jokes and questions from my colleagues about my departure. When I went to deliver some rejected certificates of origin to the all female department which creates them, one of them asked me to describe the route. I pointed it all out on a wall map of the world. They all stopped to listen as I ran my finger along the outward route covering Egypt, India, Singapore and Hong Kong. They watched in silent stupefaction. However, after I had covered Japan and then crossed over to the other end of the map to show the journey inwards through Hawaii and then San Francisco, Acapulco, Panama, and the Caribbean, the room erupted into a loud hubbub of protest at the thought that any one person of their acquaintance could be allowed to travel on such an extensive and expensive trip. There were plenty of jokey nut half serious offers to travel with me ("I'll check with my wife", I told them) or skip aboard as castaways. I gave them the address of my blog and told them to watch Facebook, but most of them would have preferred to follow on Instagram or TikTok. "Sorry, wrong generation," I explained. They also found the concept of 80 days of holiday hard to swallow. "Will you want to back? Will you recognize us when you're back?" they asked. "Don't worry," I reminded one of them, "by the time I'm back in May, you'll be a mother," and the room dissolved in a howl of laughter. 

That evening, tired and worn out, after a strenuous last day in the office, I tried to link to Zoom to join the AGM of the Federation of Poles in Great Britain. I was late getting in because for some reason Zoom rejected my application and claimed I was lost. I rang one of my Federation colleagues who gave me the link to try again. I was in, by which time Wlodek, the retirng Chairman, had completed his Chairman's Report. He used my late arrival to thank me for all my work and for composing and distributing the protest letter to the Belarusian Embassy. Then Alicja, much to my delight, presented herself as a candidate for the chairmanship of the Federation and was elected unopposed, while the two new young female candidate trustees, both of whom I also knew well, introduced themselves. Afterwards, the meeting went like a dream and in accordance with my expectations. So much so, that I did actually fall asleep. I woke up only when I could hear Alicja close the meeting and thank everyone for attending. At last, with that election out of the way, I was able to write a final summary report to the Chair of POSK, the organization I represent at the Federation AGM. After that I could concentrate once again on the preparations for the journey.

This morning, I got up early and remembered first and foremost to arrange our covid tests and obtain the required print outs for tomorrow's check in at the quayside.

Then, with Albina's supervision, we quickly completed my third suitcase. After that, the massive task of of preparing her packing began. Between 10 in the morning and 2 in the afternoon, she went through her wardrobe to check through all her clothes. Unlike with my clothes, which she had been buying for me over the past year by staggered internet purchases, hers had been accumulated over a number of years without her knowing what she possessd. She was digging up platform shoes from Brazil, slippers and beachwear from St Lucia, sumptuous dresses from the Polish spa in Kolobrzeg, and even summerwear she had acquired in Oslo and Cape Verde Islands. Albina has a great taste in clothes, and a love of colour, which I share with her, but she rarely goes out and so rarely wears any of these clothes. Frankly, she had totally forgotten of their existence. So, each time I would pull out another plastic container for her from storage, the contents would be a genuine and mostly joyful revelation to her. Because of her painful joints and her inability to raise her arms, it was my job to pull out and open each plastic container, so that she could rummage through it, make her selection, while occasionally trying on this or that blouse, or pair of leggings, or long skirt, before the container was placed back and followed with another stored immediately above it. This process took four hours and by the early afternoon she was so exhausted that she went to sleep in the spare room, with her three suitcases still unpacked.

Finally with some help from myself, she finished packing her suitcases at 8.30pm, a massive activity that again left her even more exhausted as she felt earlier in the afternoon. We attached the Fred Olsen and ROLcruise labels to each of the six cases and sat down for a glass of Merlot. That's a rare treat for ourselves, as we very rarely drink together. The world can go mad, Rishi Sunak can argue with the DUP about Northern Ireland, Putin can strut about the Kremlin and seek arms from the Chinese, the junior doctors can join the legion of striking unions, Shamima Begum can complain about being deprived of UK citizenship, Iga Swiatek can plough her way through the Dubai Tennis Championships, but we can settle in to holiday mode and forget the outside world. 

I will be taking the final bags of rubbish to the communal dump downstairs, Albina will need a massage after all her aches and pains from her ten hour struggle to pack for the journey, we are both going to shower, and then we both go to bed early. The limousine is coming to collect us tomorrow and we shall be ready.  

All the bases at home covered

 Just now, finally, after more than a year of tussling and waiting for the finalized corrected version of my details, a potted biography has been published by Wikipedia. Large chunks are missing because they were not sufficiently satisfied with the third party evidence of those details, including the whole 10 year episode with the SPPW - the Friends of Polish Veterans Association. However, better than nothing. At least I can let my son and my English friends have an inkling of what my past life was about, especially my work in the Polish community, with the Polish Solidarity Campaign in the 1980s, editorship of "Orzel Bialy" and the Federation of Poles in the 1990s.

Albina has been buying all the toiletries for our journey, while I was at work. Worn out with the effort, she nevertheless followed this up with getting a really short hair cut. She looked good, but she went for an early night. Kasia came later in the evening to pick up a key to the flat and a parking pass. She will spend her Thursday evenings in our spare bedroom and promised to pick up our post, while Ola, our Ukrainian cleaner will come every other Tuesday to clean the flat.

Also, I ordered a couple of sinister looking models of black ravens  to frighten the pigeons who have begun a real pain in the last 2 months. These pigeons have effectively turned our balcony into their toilet. You can ruffle the curtains, or shout and scream at them. The result is the same. They fly off for a few minutes and then they are back. The owners of the block have ordered specialists to clean up the balconies on our side of the building for February 28th. We won't be here then of course, but our lovely neighbouring Indian doctor will have a key to let them in. She suffers as much from these winged pests as we do. Even more so, as her balcony is twice as big as ours. This way we have all the bases covered at the flat in our absence. In the meantime four ravens have been delivered and they sit out on our balcony keeping the pigeons at bay and supervising the arrival of the new bridge across the Grand Union Canal which is visible from our balcony.

Final touch. I have attached a statement on my email operating from February 23rd announcing that I am away and may not even see the email. Goodbye, world. Albina and I are off at last.

Err, maybe not just yet. One more day at the London Chamber, and one more zoom meeting for the AGM of the Federation of Poles on Tuesday night. 

A cultural send off

            Writers: WM, Grazyna Wasiak-Taylor, Janusz Guttner, Iwona Woropaj

 I kept my promise by attending the dinner and prize presentation event at the posh Polish Hearth Club in Kensington. I was supposed to turn up at 2pm for the dinner but the Piccadilly Line was cancelled just as I got to Northfields Station. Chaos as Heathrow crowds milled in bewilderment around the station in a strange part of London they did not know. They were told to get to Ealing Broadway by the E2. Curiously the next E2 which showed up was only displaying West Ealing as the destination. I knew for a fact that it had transformed itself from a Greenford bus (travelling via Ealing Broadway) only minutes before, according to the digital notice board. The crowd let it pass, still bewildered and somewhat angry, encumbered as the frustrated travellers were with suitcases and baby buggies. However, on a hunch I got on the bus, knowing I could change buses at West Ealing to get to Ealing Broadway. Yet two bus stops later, and lo and behold! the bus termination changed back to Greenford again. That is unaccountable sadism by the bus company (or just the driver?) towards all those frustrated arrivals from abroad. Great PR for London.

So thanks to Transport for London, I arrived more than an hour late for that dinner, but the literary event was a great success for Regina Wasiak-Taylor and the Union of Writers. The two prize recipients were a London writer, Wioletta Grzegorzewska and a historian, Neal Pease, from Chicago.  Pease was the author of two books on Poland's interwar history. One was on the Catholic Church in prewar Poland, where he argued that the Polish government and church hierarchy in Poland were in conflict with the Vatican about Rome's ambition to convert Russia to Catholicism, but within the Eastern rite. Poland saw these plans as vacuous, ill informed and dangerous to Poland's security. His other book was on Polish-U.S. relations in the 1920s, up until 1933, where the U.S. was hoping that Poland and other impoverished European countries could stabilize sufficiently to benefit from American investment and trade. This policy was cut short after Hitler's rise to power and Poland's continued flirting with Hitler, so that there was no proper Polish-U.S. cooperation at the time the Second World War broke out. 

My role was to read aloud a fragment of Neal Pease's preface to the book on Polish-U.S. relations. After I had read my piece Regina unexpectedly announced to the audience that I was going on my Round the World Tour to everyone's surprise and seeming admiration. At the social that followed many of the ladies, mostly writers, actresses or rich widows from the Polish literary elites in London, congratulated me and I had to explain the route and circumstances to each in turn. It was enjoyable. Poles are very tactile, Polish ladies are particularly tactile and Polish literary and artistic ladies are overwhelmingly tactile, especially at a cheese and wine event like this. So I was able to emerge from some very emotional send offs consisting of warm hugs and kisses, and occasionally having my bum discretely pinched. 

Albina was in a grumpy mood when I got back, and had not started packing her own cases yet. Hopefully things will improve tomorrow, but I am going to be at work for the next two days, and she may be left to brood on her own at home. Not a good sign.

   

First suitcases packed

5 days to go. 

On Friday I was finally able to pack my first suitcase. It contained a very heavy world atlas that covered the whole floor of the suitcase, so that we can both follow the route of the vessel as it ploughs through the oceans. It reveals we have to pass, like Yemen and Eritrea where people live and die, in abject misery and fear as we pass within some 30 miles from them in a world of luxury and ease. It will help me concentrate on our surroundings when we sail through the South China Sea for insyance, as China increasingly claims the whole of it as its own teritorial waters and threatens not just the American Seventh fleet protecting Taiwan, Filipino fishing vessels and supply ships, and Vietnamese coastguard patrols, as intruders, while continuing to claim Taiwan as its own rerritory. Will our Norwegian ship be able to cross that sea unchallenged in April? And how far do we avoid danger as North Korea fires its probing ballistic mssiles to either overshoot Japan or to land short of it, in the Sea of Japan. Anyway, I need a map of wherever I travel, whether by land, sea or air, in order to be able to anchor myself to reality. I still eschew the satnav in my car and check my destinationby first planning the route on a printed map. Maybe I am living in the Dark Ages.

However this first suitcase included heavier objects such as guide books, first aid items, batteries, shaving gear, gym shoes, Although it was going to be our smallest suitcase (of the six we plan to take) it weights a solid 19 kilos. Luckily no restrictions on weight here as we are not flying by plane. 

On Saturday, under Albina's detailed supervision, we packed the second suitcase, in fact the largest of the six. It had many of my clothes and a large number of shirts, trousers, underwear, as well as my dinner suit. So many of these were actually new, as unbeknown to me, Albina had been buying these from mail order companies precisely to get me kitted out for the voyage. We decided not to travel light because we have been warned of the astronomical cost of laundry and ironing services on board a cruise vessel. So the more changes of fresh pressed clothes that you bring, the less you need to spend on the laundry.  Four more suitcases to pack, including three with Albina's belongings. 

We have at least solved the problem of a covid passport for Albina. We had both had the two original covid jabs in 2021 and followed it up since then all three of the boosters recommended for our age group. Evidence for this was an absolute requirements for both of us to present to the the cruise company at the day of embarkation. No problem in my case. I was able to set up and print the 5 page document on the NHS channel, basing it on my email address. But Albina is still living in the Dark Ages too, in fact at an earlier period than me, in the age of Attila as compared with Chaucer. She has no email. Gasps of astonishment. She invariably quotes my own email address whenever she is asked to supply one. I rang NHS lifeline number 119. After two failed attempts, where I was being sidelined irritatingly to the vaccination appointment booking desk, I got through to a really really helpful young lady. She was able to give me step by steady step, click by click, description of the steps to take  on the NHS website to obtain and print a covid passport for her. A simple step petrhaps, but one that had been confounding me for several weeks.

I attended an afternoon literary meeting in POSK at which a distant friend from Warsaw was launching his book on Polish pilots and on high level Soviet spying in the Far East. The author droned for more than an hour, part of which time I dozed off. No problem really, as I sat in a corner seat at the back. As I had arranged with Albina to come back earlier, I bought the book but left the meeting without even talking to him, even though I knew he wanted to speak to me. His own fault really.

Then Albina and I spent an enjoyable evening with our old friends, Stefan and Ewa, over a wonderful shepherds pie and a little tiramisu birthday cake for Albina to celebrate her 75th birthday on February 28th. We discussed Ukraine, and the cowardly hesitation of European nations, and traffic problems on the Chiswick High Road, before the conversation turned to us menfolk again, upon which both Stefan and I dozed off.

Today it is Sunday and I am ready to go out and fetch the Sunday papers. 

All change at the Federation

 6 days to go. I feel like I am standing in shifting sands as the swirl of the incoming tide is seeking to sweep me off my feet, and throw me headlong and unprepared into the maelstrom. Community events are still pinning me down and causing me constantly to put off my plans for journey preparations.

Thus last night I had attended a session on zoom of the Federation of Poles in Great Britain, where I act as an adviser and spokesman. I had been pressing to get the protest letter to the Belarusian Ambassador completed and despatched, and to rejuvenate the team and give it more of a sense of direction based on reality, not pipe dreams. Sure enough the letter was ready with only the mildest cosmetic changes to what I had sent Wlodek, the Federation President, a week ago. But even here there was an unexpected hitch, and something I had in fact overlooked.  It transpired that last July Lukashenka had recalled Ambassador Yermalovich, who was the one who appeared on our letter. Who replaced him? I did not know, but I promised to check it out. This again will delay the despatch of the letter, though I cannot blame anyone else but myself for that. 

But there was better news. My preferred candidate for the vice presidency, Alicja Donimirska, the bright young chair of the Polish YMCA and manager of the Mazury Dance Troupe, rang me yesterday afternoon. She had agreed with Wlodek on something even more radical. Wlodek had suggested to her that she sould be President, and he would act as her Vice-President. I was stunned by the boldness of the suggestion, but elated. Alicja wanted to sound me out. Was it a good idea? Of course, I said, go for it.  And sure enough at the meeting Wlodek made that proposal to the other trustees and they all agreed. Also another young activist, Tomek Machura, agreed to be Secretary and Treasurer, all in one. Suddenly, and with one bound, as the saying goes in old adventure stories, the generation gap in this ancient organization representing UK Poles since 1946, had been leaped over and brought into the Twenty First Century. Many of the older members remained among the trustees but three new ones would be adopted. Practical proposals were being made on the Federation's finances, accomodation and relationship with its member organizations. Of course all this would have to be approved at the virtual AGM next Tuesday, but an enormous step forward had taken place. I felt that this was now something from which I could retire. Unfortunately, that still meant I had to attend the AGM on Tuesday evening, two days before embarkation, and then report on it to the Chairman of POSK (after all, I was the POSK delegate to the Federation AGM) and to my trustee colleagues on the Polonia Aid Foundation Trust to whom the new look Federation would return with its daintily presented begging bowl. 

This morning that continued when I contacted my friends at the Polish Embassy to find the name of the current Charge d'affaires at the Belarus Embassy. The name of this important official was not accessible on Google and in fact there was no mention of that in a huff of anger and frustration, Lukashenka had recalled Yermalovich. The new official was called Dmitry Shchepachev. I emailed Wlodek to suggest that he quickly change the addressee on the letter and then resend the text to me in Word or PDF so that I could circulate it to Polish institutions and the media. I also sent Wlodek a reminder of all public interventions made by the Federation in the last year, so that he could include this in his report at the AGM. I got the amended letter from Wlodek sent me the final versio that afternoon. I added an introducion in the shape of a press conference and then published it out in the ether where it must be circulating even now.

Yesterday, Albina and I spent a long but fruitful time at Barclays sorting out our 2 year Flexible Bond, which was our large next egg from the sale of our house, and which would mature on February 28th, while we would be on our tour. Finally, we found a formula for the bank, acting on our behalf during our long absence, to transfer the whole amount, minus the interest, into a second 2 year Flexible Bond but with a much higher interest than before. That was a great weight off our mind. Meanwhile the current interest from the former Bond, while not an insignificant amount, could now be added to our reserves for our voyage. A good result.

Finally, I heard too from the entertainment department at the Fred Olsen Cruises. There were no specific plans for a lecture or theme night on the Verne book, but a copy of the book would be waiting for us in our cabins and there would be showings of the film. Once on board I could discuss any further contribution I wanted to make with Sammie Firbanks, the entertainment manager, who, judgiing by her Facebook pictures, was a stunning looking young blonde lady. Again, I thought, a good result.

Polish Consulate

8 more days to go.

 On Wednesday morning I travelled to the Polish Consulate near Blackfriars Station for my meeting with Vice Consul Anna Tarnawska. She wanted me to give her an impression of the achievements of Janusz Kochanowski, who was the first consul-general in London to represent a free Poland after 1990. Apparently, the Polish government is organizing an evening at POSK in April devoted to an assessment of his valuable, even pioneering, work as a consul at a time, when the old Polish emigres remained suspicious of the new diplomats from a free independent Poland. As the Vice Chairman of the Federation of Poles in Great Britain at that time, I had worked closely with him in building up a successful Polish lobby in the UK. In particular we had cooperated closely on the succesful campaign to abolish the need for Polish visitors having to pre-order their entry visas in Warsaw before coming to this country. 

Obviously, I would still be on my trip during this commemorative evening. However, Mrs Tarnawska recorded my account of events on her recorder, and said that she would play edited excerpts at the meeting. I gave her a copy of my earlier book "Polak Londynczyk" ("A Polish Londoner") which described events in Polish Londonat that time and a printed dated list of my meetings with Consul Kochanowski in the early 1990s. At last, another community task completed before my departure. That only leaves me with unfinished buiness with the Federation of Poles AGM next week and the prize winning cermony of the Union of Polish Witers in the nearest weekend. 

On my way home, I skipped through Ealing Town Centre. I also popped into Boots to get a smaller, more easily manageable, thermometer, as Albina had decided that our current massive and expensive aural thermometer is too large and too unwieldy to take with us. Pity, as I found it useful and it gave you an instant accurate reading after placing it in your ear. Eventually, I chose a smaller thermometer in a middle price range which showed different temperatures in different colours. Albina would like that. Only one problem. I asked a simple question. Where do we apply this thermometer. Is it oral, or aural, or under the armpit? At Hammersmith Hospital, for instance, they seem to change the routine for taking temperature every few months. Curiously, the packaging containing the instrument had a long description in English, French and German, of how to read the results, but with no information about how to obtain them. The counter staff at the dispenser desk did not know either. They consulted each other and even took the package to the head lady chemist, but all I could see her do was to shrug her shouldres. Finally, a junior chemist said it should be used under the armpit. I felt that for various reasons they seemed reluctant to clarify "where to stick it". Sorry, that is not just a rhetorical device. I remember a diplomatic incident at the beginning of the covid scare when the Chinese government had been doing anal covid temperature tests, and this all blew up in the media when it transpired that incoming American diplomats had also been subjected to being tested this way. 

Two close friends of Albina, Marysia and Wanda, came round in the afternoon for a final pre-holiday farewell and we had an enjoyable afternoon and evening drink with them. Albina had just come back a few days ago from a visit to her daughter and new grandson in Tasmania. However, their visit prevented me from making planned enquiries with the NHS staff how to obtain a covid printed passport for Albina. She has no email address and without it obtaining a covid passport required by Fred Olsen Cruises seems impossible. I shall try and ring 119 tomorrow to get this important document for her.     

Medicine War Chest

 On Monday and Tuesday I was at work at the London Chamber office in Ashford, but I still needed to coordinate preparations for the trip. On the Monday I got confirmation that the GP had authorized Albina's order for 3 months' supply of her repeat medicine. Brent Pharamacy would still need time to consolidate that medicine ordering in anything they would be short of. In the meantime Albina had her teeth finally checked at the new dentist in Brentford, after five years wiithout any examination. Luckily she always had good teeth and there was no need for any work, other than a good clean and a little whitening. She also went round againt to Williams Travel Clinic to obtain the written record of our tropical disease jabs, as they had failed to send them to the clinic.

On Tuesday I rode to work through a heavy mist, with whole areas, especially around Osterley and Hatton Cross, enveloped in a milky whiteness. As it was also half term and the morning traffic was low, I felt like I was driving alone through a dream landscape with no way in and no visible exit. I last experienced this spooky feeling when I was crossing through a heavy sea mist along the long causeway across Lake Pontchartrain in Louisiana, which brought on a mental panic. It was a nightmare vision of eternity and loneliness. Luckily, the morning mist began to clear as I approached Ashford and I was able to park safely in the station car park. 

Things began to improve as I was able to scan over the vaccination summary to my clinic and they confirmed that they had made a record of them. Also Brent Pharmacy confirmed that our repeat medicines were ready. That evening I got to the pharmacy just before they closed, encumbered with two massive plastic bags full of our medicine war chest. I also bought a couple of packets of sea sickness pills, just in case. 

When I got the two bags of our medicine home I found that Albina and her friend Marta had been busy that morning piecing together the various items I had listed earlier for them to pack for the journey. It included all the things one might forget, such as telephone cables, UK and EU electric plug adapters, a torch, a telescope (Stefan's gift during my last birthday), a couple of Asian guide books, a handbook on the stars and planets visible this year, a thermometer, specctacle wipes, a sun hat, spare AA and AAA batteries, swimming trunks, and a whole lot of other paraphenalia. Most of the items had been dutifully collected and laid out on the bed in the spare bedroom. All in all, Marta's presence had been most helpful, not only in helping Albina to begin the process of packing but also in encouraging her to get some dresses and smart clothes for the trip, when she had said all along that she would boycott all the public events on the ship. Marta was horrified when Albina said she would go so far as to refuse to attend any invitation to the captain's table on the trip. I winked at Marta and said that was only right. Why should Albina have to eat with the staff?!

I was sorry Marta was with us for only a few days. That evening I drove her to Shepherds Bush to join the family with whom she would be living for the remainder of her stay in to England. When I got home again, I sat down to pack all my medicine into six pillboxes, three of them with 3 months' worth of morning pills, and three of them into 3 months' worth of evening pills. That whole exercise took me four whole hours and at the end I was exhausted and went to bed. 

World Map 1872

 

10 days to embarkation. Still at work today and with staff colleagues asking how I feel about the holiday. Was I excited? Petrified, I tell them. That is not what they wanted to hear.

Am still going round and round in circles waiting for the 3 months' supply of repeat prescriptions for both of us to be available on time. Yesterday still nothing was ready. Apparently today my prescription list was approved, but Albina's still requires a doctor's signature. I urged the clinic to hurry.

It transpires that Williams Pharmacy did not send out a report to the clinic on our jabs for the tropical diseases. I asked them to give Albina a report on these inoculations. She can pop in there after her visit to her new dentist, as he is just round the corner to them.

I have contacted the entertainment manager for the Borealis, Sammy Firbanks, through the Fred Olsen guest service email, about my suggestion to give a little talk about Jukes Verne, his book, his times and a comparison between his very realistic fictional route and ours. The vessels and the train companies he described were real. He merely added fictional figures to populate his real world of trains, and boats, and elephants. Bradshaws guide was his Google at the time. I have prepared a detailed list comparing the two routes. There are major digressions caused by Phileas Fogg's railway journeys across Europe, India and America. Our route differs by sailing all the way and using the Panama Canal, which had not yet been built, or even dreamed of, in 1872. However the route from Brindisi to San Francisco is basically the same as in the book. Phileas Fogg covered that distance in 59 days. We will do it in 46 days, Interestingly he gets to Brindisi by rail 4 days quicker than us, but we both arrive in Bombay/Mumbai on roughly the same 19th day. We get to San Francisco 9 days earlier than him. Needless to say Sammy Firbanks has not yet responded to my offer. Unfortunately, I do not have his/her direct email address.