Monday, October 1, 2012.
New England-Canada Cruise Journal, Day Eleven: Still At Sea.
Last night brought us the roughest waves that we would encounter on our QM2 voyage. I suspect that the stabilizers had been pulled in so the ship could go faster. It needed all the help it could get, because we awakened five hours behind schedule, and facing strong headwinds nearly all the way to New York.
The motion of the ship wasn't especially disturbing to most people. On the other hand, the ship set out barf bags in the elevator lobbies just in case. Mary Ann, who is sensitive to movement, said she didn't like the boat's rocking, but was bothered more by a bad cold. That had her in bed almost the entire day. In bed is not an especially good place to be with motion sickness.
I kept myself busy writing a Menu Daily edition. Although it is very difficult to work online from the ship, I'm keeping up the daily writing regimen. But I've all but made up my mind to ask my readers' permission to just take off entirely from publishing while I'm away on a cruise.
However, the Marys and I have been talking about whether there ever will be another cruise. They don't really want to do it again. But they add that they see no reason why I shouldn't continue organizing these voyages on my own.
I've tried that twice, and I can't say I like it. I spend a lot of time hanging out with the Eat Clubbers, but that's not the same as being with one's dearest. On the other hand, before MA came along I was an inveterate solo vacationer, frequently traveling two or three weeks without seeing anyone I knew. The craziest of those was my twenty-two-day one-man bicycle trip from New Orleans to Chicago in 1986. But now the idea of traveling alone is anathema to me.
On the other hand (I think I may have run out of hands again), quite a few people--both on this trip and just reading about it here--are asking when and where the next cruise will be. The deciding factor will probably be my inability to come even close to covering my expenses on these cruises, and the amount of work involved in organizing them. So there exists a strong possibility that I will disembark for good tomorrow.
Mary Ann and I went topside to watch the sun set--a tradition for us on the last day of a cruise. It was difficult to do this time. Although the skies were clear and the light clouds a pretty salmon hue, the winds were so strong that at times I felt they would blow me over.
The final dinner in the Britannia Dining Room was almost as good as last evening's. I started with sashimi of an unidentifiable but tasty fish. Then an excellent cream of asparagus soup with truffle essence. The entree was a generous cut of salmon. Overcooked, as usual, but that's the way Mary Ann loves it. I gave her half of mine. Tarte tatin for dessert--no ice cream. I am doing serious damage to my weight-loss program on this trip.
Our group remained in conversation until well after the other tables in the dining room had cleared out. It was almost eleven before I headed in the direction of the jazz club, with hopes of joining the band for a song. I had thought about it all day, actually, and had a list of a half-dozen tunes Hodgson could choose from. But I was so tired that I didn't think I had the energy to perform well, so I went up to bed. I'm sure the trio was relieved, if they thought about me at all.
Anyway, I had a peak singing experience already. Yesterday after dinner, I was at my karaoke best, with several Sinatra songs and my killer, "The Lion Sleeps Tonight." "How do you do that?" I'm always asked about my falsetto voice. I learned the song when I was nine and still think I can do it, is how.
The girls were both sound asleep. The television channel that shows the position of the ship, the winds and the waves revealed that we'd made up some of the lost time, and that conditions had improved. Tomorrow morning we must disembark--never a fun activity.
It's over three years since a day was missed in the Dining Diary. To browse through all of the entries since 2008, go here.
