Açores

Toussaint

The usual pattern of chaos as we started our latest trip.  Martyn woke feeling dreadful, so for a while it felt to me as if it was doubtful whether we’d get away at all.  Well, we carried on with preparations, and headed out around 10:00 as planned. The roads were very busy, lousy with diversions, but mercifully the surface of the A/M27 has been improved a bit since last time we used it.  I was driving Martyn’s car, and, being used to my somewht more staid Renault, found it a bit skittish and prone to wandering off line.  I’ll try and dial up lane-assist on the way home. 

Unfortunately, (a) I forgot to pick up my phone, and (b) I didn’t swot up on the procedure for parking (we’d booked too late to get parking at the port).  Well, we rolled up at the rather scabby car park: not a soul in sight, so we rang the number on the instructions.  No reply, but we were eventually routed to an answering machine, and in due course got a call back.  We repaired to the Starbucks next door, and got some rather unappetising sausage sandwiches.  Before they could brew our tea, I spotted a minibus arriving at the car park, and the driver told me that because we hadn’t confirmed our arrival time in advance, we’d be charged an extra £20, which I coughed up with ill grace.  Well, the old rattletrap bus (an orchestra of rattles, seats repaired with duct tape, and a driver with an alarming deficit of front teeth) got us to the port around our check-in time.  Unusually for Cunard, the departure hall was teeming and rather chaotic, though our ‘platinum’ customer status got us to jump one of the queues.

From there on, much as normal.  Our bags appeared quite promptly: indeed, my wheelie case was there before us.  One we’d unpacked, we took a stroll round the ship to remind ourselves of the layout.  We’re quite fmiliar now with the Vista class sisters, Elizabeth and Victoria, but less so with the Anne.

Dinner was good: we’d opted for early dining, which better reflects our usual habits.  We have a table for two this time, as we’d asked, and had pleasant company for a while with a couple from the Midlands, who had booked open dining.  I guess this means that we’ll have different neighbours each night.  We were both pretty knackered, so repaired to the cabin for tea and an early night.  Some hope: we both had trouble getting to sleep.

Monday

Both feeling groggy after a poor night, so we’ve stayed in the cabin, and had breakfast here rather than jostle with the crowds.  We must have been sailing over a big shoal of fish, since we’ve been entertained by hundreds of gannets diving for fish!  

Quiet day: sandwiches from the lido, quiet spell reading in the Commodore club, and supper from room service.

Tuesday

Excellent talk about Dickens by Robert Powell.  The theatre was packed to the roof, so they live-streamed it to the pub next door, where we got seats.  (He’s doing another talk on Saturday, on Jane Austen, so we’ll get to the theatre a bit earlier.)

Pleasant, smallish lunch in the Britannia, which we much prefer to the scrum in the lido.  Back to the cabin for a showing of Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines.  Dozens of famous names from the sixties, including Robert Morley, Eric Sykes, Terry-Thomas, and bit parts for Tony Hancock, Millicent Martin and Fred Emney.  Glorious slapstick nonsense.

The sea has jostled us a bit today: nothing serious, but the ship, for all its 113,000 gross tons, does roll a bit. We are well out into the Atlantic of course, and with another full day at sea tomorrow, we expect more of the same.

Wednesday

Sea a little calmer this morning, and though we have about eight tenths cloud, it is nice and mild.  The news from the Untied States also improves the Weltanschauung.

We attended a talk by maritime historian Dr Helen Doe about Cornish shipbuilders whose schooners carried citrus fruit from the Açores to London and Bristol.  Dr Doe is descended from one of the Fowey shipbuilding families, on whom Daphne Du Maurier based a novel.

This afternoon we had a different form of entertainment: a hitch-hiking fieldfare visited our balcony for a while (leaving behind suitable decorations…).  We got a few decent photos, so I’ll edit them into the blog when we get home.

Dispiriting dinner alongside an uncommunicative couple - even between themselves.  Restorative martini in the Commodore club, where we were entertained by two talented and skilful Irish musicians, Jojo and Tommy.  Guitar, flute, fiddle and good voices.  We’ll look out for them in the programme.

Thursday

Cloudy and damp when we arrived in Ponta Delgada this morning, but it was good to see land again after four nights and three days at sea.  The weather was fine by the time we left for our excursion, and has remained so here on the south coast, where we’ve sat for a while on the balcony.  

We bought an excursion, and first visited a charming botanic garden in town, and Martyn took lots of pictures: I’ll do an album when we get back.  Distinct echoes of the Estufa Fria, right down to the resident poultry and waterfowl, but it’s built on a very craggy hillside.  Next were the crater lakes up in the hills, but the low cloud meant we didn’t get the classic brochure view!  The mist shifted a lot as we watched, so the atmosphere added a sort of mysterious charm.  Next to a viewpoint from which we could see both coasts and the cones of many youngish extinct or dormant volcanoes.  Finally a visit to the pineapple greenhouses in town, where we learned a lot about the propagation and cultivation of the fruit, which has to be done under glass in these climes.  The place also offered excellent WiFi, so I got to clear my mailbox and deal with some commercial bits and pieces.

The island differs a lot from the other atlantic islands we’ve visited.  I hadn’t registered how dependent it is on the dairy industry: none of the vines and bananas of Madeira, for example.  Once a thriving producer of citrus fruit for the English market, a disease of the trees put paid to that, leaving the islands increasingly dependent on dairy.  The government’s refusal to accede to Ryanair’s blackmail demand and said airline’s consequent withdrawal has hit the tourism industry hard.  Pineapple cultivation is very expensive here, hence uncompetitive away from the local market.  

Pleasant afternoon on the balcony, watching the port getting on with what 

ports do.  There were a couple of intrepid hydrofoil windsurfers out in the harbour, and quite a few litle dinghies a bit further out.  We’ve seen quite a few swimmers as well.

 

Friday

Quite a busy cruise destination, this.  A Royal Caribbean ship came and went yesterday, and when I surfaced this morning, a Norwegian Cruise Lines and an Ambassador ship had moored opposite us.  And the cargo port is pretty active as well.  A small container ship just came past, carrying a scattering of cars and vans as well as a few dozen containers.  Curiously, there are no ferry services from this island, although I believe there are some between islands to the west.  The port is beneath the final approach to the airport, and there’s a bit of - I guess - inter-island traffic with Dash-8s.  A Star Alliance A320 just came in - presumably Lufthansa: even with the two hour time difference between here and Germany, that must have been an early start!  And I sit with my first tea of the day, the pilot cutter has just headed out again.

We had a stroll round town this morning, including a visit to the impressive market.  I tried to log into the internet at a few cafés without success.  I’ve therefore re-mortgaged the house to buy Cunard’s mediocre wifie for the reminder of our trip.

Announcement at midday from the old man, cancelling our brief call in Madeira tomorrow because of forecast strong wind.  Instead, we shall be calling at Praia da Vitória on Terceira.  Good: much as we like Madeira, we have been there a number of times, but I haven’t been to Terceira.  Watch this space.

The insurance racket

Does anyone else find they need to change insurers every year?  It’s a bit of a chore, but it’s the only way to avoid paying through the nose.  Having failed to persuade current home and contants insurer X to match better offers, I took our business to insurer Y.  Once I’d paid Y the premium, the message came through from Y that, from 31 December, all Y policies will be insured by X.  Only in this instance for over £80 less.  I’d to do the same dance with the car inaurance last month.

This reminds me of my experience when my father was still living.  He had for years had an agency with insurer Z, and arranged for me to take it over.  I didn’t bring in enough business, so they sacked me.  Dad took umbrage (or as we say in the family, Uxbridge) and when the car insurance came up for renewal, he organised a significantly cheaper deal through the AA.  Underwritten by none other than Z.  Plus ça change.

Surprises

I remember that, when I was feeling rather depressed during the 1979 Rio UPU Congress, hearing bagpipes, and assuming that I’d gone out of my mind.  This might well have been (and may remain) the case, but the explanation was that the lamented British Caledonian, which had flown us there, were doing a big promotion across the way at the Intercon.  I had a similar fright a day or two ago when I heard the pipes outside: a piper was escorting a funeral procession down the street.  I know not whose, but hope that the ceremony helped the mourners.

We’re waiting to hear from the people who are fitting tailored covers to our 1939 vintage suite, bought at that year’s Ideal Homes show.  It has been recovered and rebuilt several times over the decades, and is solid and comfortable.  Today, Martyn had a dig down the side of his favourite chair, and came back up with £9:20!  Dining chairs we bought not long ago have sagged badly.  For two pins, I’d have a crack at reupholstering them, but (a) I doubt whether the frames are strong enough, and (b) I’m not sure the old mitts are up to it.

As I write, we’re battening down the hatches in preparation for two storms.  Ben tied back the climbing roses on Wednesday, and we just hope the fences concerned stay up.  And the phone lines!

Ouch!

Not only did my flu and Covid jabs give me a rather sore arm, but for much of Friday I felt like I had flu, and though it was better next day, the shopping trip was about as much as I could manage.  Rather better on Sunday, so we took a ride across the county town to get some replacement linen.  A couple of towels I bought with Globus tokens last century have understandably given up the ghost.  I suppose we could cut them down and hem them to serve as cloakroom and kitchen hand towels, but we have enough of that variety.  But it’s difficult to shake off the frugal instincts that have served me so well over the decades.

We dropped into town on Monday, it being Martyn’s birthday, to get a promised birthday present.  We went to a tailor’s shop that shows no signs of having changed in decades - with the exception of the card reader!  It’s nice to know that there are still some old-fashioned independent businesses around.  I wouldn’t have noticed its tiny frontage had not the chap in the department store down the road suggested it.

Not much to be said about the garden.  I hope to get a few more tomatoes - notably from a self-sown plant that shares a minimal bed with the Queen Elizabeth rose.  The plants in pots are looking pretty knackered, so I may have to give up on the unripened fruit.  I’ll give them a week.  Meanwhile, the rosemary hedge at the front is bushing out nicely thanks to Ben’s attentions, and a few of the plants are in flower.  Quite a successful project, that.  The parent plant had become rather leggy, so I chopped off the worst of the boughs and started dozens of cuttings, bringing them on in one of the raised beds, and potting them up in fresh compost.  As I write, Ben is tying back the climbing roses: just in time, since we’re expecting very strong winds in the coming days.  (Maybe I’d better give the tomatoes less than a week…) 

 

“Have the nature to ask!”

Herbie, a somewhat charismatic consultant we used back in BTI days used often thus to quote an elderly relative of his.  For some time, intermittently, we’ve had trouble using the internet while the tv is on.  Fiddling with the printer seemed to solve it for some reason, but that didn’t last.  Martyn spotted an Openreach bloke down a hole nearby yesterday, so I had the nature to ask him if he was working on internet access problems.  He was, but on the old aluminium network rather than the fibre optic one we’re on.  I described our issue, and he suggested that we change the power cable to the tv.  Martyn grovelled on the deck for a while, changing the cable - and clearing out a lot of disused wiring.  Bingo!  Not only does the internet work when the telly’s on, but the speed seems to have increased noticeably.

Earlier, while enduring Ordeal by Sainsbury’s, I was looking for Martyn’s preferred peanut butter in what seemed the logical places, but failing.  So I had the nature to ask an employee, who sent me to aisle 9, in among the cakes.  Logical, ou bien?

Moral: don’t waste time assuming you can fix everything yourself: there’s always someone around who knows the answer.

Today I’ve had my flu and Covid jabs done by a cheerful African bloke at the local pharmacy (which I jokingly describe as my dealer).  Barely noticeable jabs, and both administered to the same arm (I was given the option, and went for one sore arm rather then two).  So far, so good, three hours on, but it’s early days.  Martyn, who tends to feel groggy for quite a while after vaccinations, has deferred his flu jab until after our cruise next month, so we keep our fingers crossed that he doesn’t catch it while we’re away!  Do make sure you get yours - the sooner, the better.

Diary fuller than usual!

 On Sunday we treated ourselves to a ride on the Paddle Steamer Waverley, from Rochester to Whitstable.  Fine weather, so great views: I’d never imagined how interesting the Medway is.  The ship was pretty full, so it was a bit of a struggle to get good views, but the atmosphere was very friendly.  A nice touch was that the Sheerness lifeboat came out to say hello.  It was a bit of a trek up to the station in Whitstable, and the train took us only as far as Rainham, decanting us to a bus onwards to Rochester.  It made for rather a long day, but an enjoyable one nonetheless.

On Monday I joined a u3a French conversation group, Entente cordiale, and found a very good level of fluency among the membership.  I’ll give it a couple more tries before I commit: it has been a while since I routinely spoke French, and I found myself sounding rather halting at times.  Next day it was German conversation, at the home of a new member, who, along with her little black cat, made us very welcome.  An interesting piece about Dresden provoked some good discussion, particularly as one of our number had  lived and worked there around the time of reunification.

Back to routine, we did a nine-day washing today, and got it dry outside.  Such simple achievements enrich our declining years!  It was a fine afternoon, so I spent much of it doing a bit of modest gardening and sorting the laundry as the sun went down.

Flu and Covid jabs tomorrow, so stand by for radio silence for a day or two!

Hello, autumn

The days are getting noticeably shorter, but we’ve had something of an Indian summer.  It’s due to break tomorrow, we gather, but we could do with the rain.  We still have lots of roses in flower, and a bit of colour in the containers: we have quite a few subjects that we didn’t plant this year, including nicotiana, petunia, bidens and even a rather stunted rudbeckia.  The tomatoes are practically over, but a few late fruit are ripening: ugly as hell with their brown skins, but delicious.  Not what I ordered, but we have tasty fruit - and a refund!  Today I’ve tidied up a couple of containers, and stuck in some bulbs for next year: fritillaria meleagris and iris reticulata. 

Aside of minimal gardening and the usual household chores, we’ve been to see Martyn’s family, and had a few meetings with friends old and new.  The u3a gives me a few stimulating outings: German conversation, computing and scrabble, for example, and in a few days’ time I shall be seeing if a French language group suits me.  It’s a lot more structured than our German group, which is now more like a bunch of friends meeting at each others’ houses for coffee and a natter.  Today I’ve met a bunch of retired Magistrate friends to exchange war stories and gossip, and though we were a select group of five today, we had a good session.

Last Sunday we went to a concert: the first of the Disgustedville Symphony Orchestra’s 26/27 season.  Brahms Tragic Overture, Elgar’s cello concerto and Copland’s first Symphony.  Impressive playing by a much improved orchestra - it measures up well against the professional London bands.  Most impressive, though, was the performance of the cello soloist, Laura van der Heijden, a winner of young musician of the year a while back.  Seeing it performed live for the first time brought home to me just how technically demanding the piece is, despite which her interpretation was outstanding.  Fabulous performance, and, as an encore, she treated us to her own arrangement of Scarborough Fair.

Lots of autumn colour around, which brings on that sinking feeling that winter isn’t far away.  Still, we have a brief stay in the floating care home to look forwards to next month: Açores, Madeira, Lisbon and Vigo.  Two destinations I haven’t visited before, and two that we know well and love.  Wonder if anyone will let me speak a bit of Portuguese this time?