Tuesday 9 February
Not a bad ride down to Southampton yesterday, though the roads were surprisingly busy - and of course the surfaces are dreadful: deep potholes, and large areas of missing tarmac carpet on the concrete sections. I had to ask Martyn to take over from me in Worthing when my elbows were aching and my hands had started to cramp up. Maybe I can adjust the driving position and see if that helps.
As planned, we stopped at Rownhams services, just before the turn-off towards the docks. Lunch at Leon’s: expensive and mediocre. Cups of tea at Costa: adequate if expensive, but I was reluctant to touch the manky surface of the table. Though the lavatories have been refitted since last time we were there, the cubicles are manky, and the WC was black with limescale…etc. Although I think we’d enough juice left in the battery to get us home - it was at 54% when we got to the services - we decided to cater for any detours by topping up the battery. Plenty of chargers, and a simple process using a contactless card, but again, expensive at 89p/kWh.
As usual, the embarkation process was a breeze: quick and efficient, with a smile from everyone we met, and sometimes a joke. We got from car to cabin in about 20 minutes. The cabin is much as we remember, though it feels smaller somehow, and the carpet is showing its age in places.
Though Martyn had requested a table for two at the early sitting, we’ve been put on open dining, and were taken to an isolated table, hence no chance to converse with others. Anyway, we’ll take pot luck. Dinner was pretty good, particularly the sea bream main course. I treated myself to my first martini of the year, and it was very good - a useful pick-me-up after the stresses of the road and unpacking.
We went to a show after dinner: a soloist on the soprano saxophone followed by a pretty good song and dance routine - songs from the shows and the like. Not quite my genre, but an excellent performance. We sat up in the gods, as far as possible from the loudspeakers, and though it was a bit loud, it was bearable.
Wednesday 10 February
Not a bad night, though I struggled to get to sleep and woke up several times. I’m used to absolute silence at home - apart from the occasional owl or fox - and although the cabin is far from noisy, there is a just perceptible rumble from the engines and the whir of the air conditioning. The sea is a touch on the lively side, so there’s a bit of movement - and we gather that we’re in for a pretty bumpy night.
Martyn spotted a school of dolphins this morning: such a delight to see them leaping out of the water, apparently just for fun - I’m sure there’s a better zoological explanation for the behaviour.
Wednesday 11 February
We have been to a couple of lectures: one by Keith Appleyard, a former signals intelligence man, latterly in GCHQ, and one by Sir Martin Connell, lately retired as second sea lord, having served as a helicopter pilot, notably in the first Gulf War, and later in command of ships, latterly HMS Illustrious. Interesting speakers both. The ride across the Bay of Biscay and down the Portuguese coast was somewhat sportif, so it was amusing to watch the screen and curtains behind the speakers waving around as the ship rolled.
Yesterday evening after dinner we sat and watched some sequence dancing: popular oop North, Martyn tells me. Some very capable dancers. On the way to the lift afterwards I caused a minor panic when I lost my balance and almost measured my length - just outside the pub, which would have been embarrassing. The sea has been pretty lively so far, so one has to take care. I’ll bring a stick with me next time, I think.
Today so far we’ve just sat and read, though I did bestir myself to do a spot of laundry. As I write, we’ve just listened to a piano recital: (a) not as good as Matthew McCombie, whom we’ve heard on a couple of cruises, but OK when the pianist didn’t play like he had a bus to catch; (b) Cunard could do with some better pianos and/or tuning.
Captain’s cocktail reception this evening. I had an interesting chat with the Chief Engineer. I told him about brother John’s sailing as cargo officer (a specialist Chief Engineer on the LNG carriers). Said Cunard Chief is about to join the P&O Arvia, which is powered by LNG, and hence is allowed into the more restricted fjords, such as Geirangerfjorden - though not indefinitely, he told me. Disappointingly, the LNG just powers reciprocating diesel motors, rather than the clever steam turbine jobs John worked on.
We went to a show this evening, but left early. The tenor soloist sang lots of songs from the shows, but was practically drowned out by the drums and bass guitar. (We were sitting in the back row of the gods: it must have been torture down the front. Pity, since he has a decent voice. I’m starting to find the noise rather distracting. Conversation is well nigh impossible in the main restaurant: after a while we just hope we’re nodding and smiling at the right moment.
Well, tomorrow should be fine, so we’re looking forward to a gentle stroll round Funchal in the fresh air. The ship has been sailing into a force six wind from the south-west, so the deck is not really an option, ditto the balcony. We aren’t planning any big excursions from the ports we’re visiting - been there, done that - so shall at most do the hop-on, hop off bus, and linger in the odd bistro for some people watching.
Friday 13 February
We enjoyed a little stroll round Funchal yesterday, pausing in a café on the main drag for a glass of wine and some people watching. Very decent temperature, and hardly any breeze. We returned to the ship for lunch, snoozed a bit, and enjoyed watching people on hydrofoil windsurfers in the harbour. One or two were really proficient, others did a lot of falling in!
The usual afternoon tea and quiz and early dinner. We went to the show, but once again gave up. Though the singer was capable and had a good voice, he was drowned out by the grotesquely amplified drums and bass guitar.
Sea day on Friday, so we spent a fair bit of it just reading, much of it out on the balcony. With a slight wind behind the ship, it made for a pleasant interval in the fresh air. Sir Martin Connell did an interview followed by Q&A, and did so very well.
The open dining option is working out well enough: we usually get congenial company, but the demands on the waiters are high, and there are quite a few mistakes.
14 February
After a very leisurely sail from Madeira - a day and two nights - we docked at a decent hour this morning in Santa Cruz de La Palma. Cunard does not lay on a shuttle bus service, and the ship had docked right at the end of the jetty. Consequently the walk into town was a bit of a trial. We’d put it off until a bit of drizzle had passed over and the breeze had dropped a bit. We stopped for refreshments in a café we last used ten years ago on our first cruise, and watched the world go by for a while. The balconies on the waterfront were as pretty as ever, but the environment is spoiled at the moment by building works opposite: I guess they’re improving pedestrian access to the grey sand beach.
We gathered up a few provisions at a Spar shop at the harbour gate. As in Madeira, there was no fresh milk to be had, and no proper orange juice - just readymix squash and, gawd ‘elp us, Fanta. Still, the carton of semi-skimmed UHT milk (yon HIV milk, as my late Ma called it) will be easier to use than Cunard’s poxy little sachets.
Very enjoyable after dinner entertainment in the Commodore club: popular songs from a nicely understated soprano, perfectly accompanied on piano. And with minimal amplification!
Sunday 15 February
As we sailed into Santa Cruz de Tenerife this morning around dawn, I switched out of airplane mode, and there was an immediate ping from the phone. A message from honorary sister Annie to say that her partner Chris had died. They had been together for ten years, though Annie had remained in Cottingham while Chris continued to farm near Molton. He was diagnosed with leukaemia a couple of years ago, and had had some benefit from treatment, but as is so often the case with that rotten disease, he gradually got weaker, and died peacefully on Friday.
As we sailed in, I was surprised to see a saltyre flying at the royal sailing club. There was another on the town hall. A little research established that it is in fact the flag of Tenerife, and it’s a slightly darker blue. Fancy that!
Today Santa Cruz celebrates carnival, so we went into town hoping to see the parade. Well, we saw lots of people in fancy dress - bright garlands, long wigs in bright colours and all the rest. One couple was dressed in prison stripes, a young chap was in a dinosaur costume, and we were pursued for a while by a roaring caveman with a bone through his nose, brandishing a huge club! But I’m afraid the biggest impression was of grotesquely over-amplified music, which drove us back to the ship, from which it’s still intrusive a mile away - and we’re upwind of it! So we missed the parade. Oh well, we got to share some of the atmosphere at least.
Dinner was a disappointment. Martyn’s fish was OK but the chicken tikka massala was a travesty. Leftover roast chicken dished up in a bland sauce. The success of the dish depends on the lengthy marination of the chicken, and of course that had not happened. The soggy quarter of a poppadum and the miniature naan rather exaggerated the mediocrity of the dish. Snarl. All told, we’re falling out with Cunard. Service is slipping, catering is worse, and I dread to think what the bar bill will look like.
Monday 16 February
Las Palmas de Gran Canaria. A long, long walk to the dock gate, let alone to the city centre. Cunard are failing to cater for their elderly clientele. Anyway, we took the extortionate hop on, hop off bus, and eventually got to the charming medieval town, Veguete. The journey just exaggerated what a dump Las Palmas is. Narrow streets with tall buildings either side: not an iota of architectural merit. Further out, the more recent building perpetuates the mediocrity, only with a pretence of decoration - which fails.
But we had an enjoyable stroll round the well-preserved Veguete, and the ride back along the front was far more enjoyable than the ride out.
Tuesday 17 February
Arrecife, Lanzarote. The remains of the Caledon-built wreck are still visible on the beach near where we moored. The Telamon (launched in 1954 in Dundee as the Temple Hall) was sold on twice to Greek operators, and while carrying a load of timber from Côté d’Ivoire to Thessaloniki sprung a leak during a storm between Gran Canaria and Lanzarote. Not wishing to risk blocking the harbour, the harbourmaster directed it towards the beach, where it remains, several decades later. In another storm, the ship’s back broke, so only the superstructure and the blunt end are visible. Attempts at salvage have run into fiscal and other problems, so there she lies, slowly rusting away.
We are moored at the outer jetty this time, so took the shuttle bus into town. It was still quite a walk from the marina, where the shuttle bus stopped. Quite a pleasant waterfront, with a couple of yachting harbours, but when you move back inland it’s all rather run down. We walked as far as the famous beach, with a pause for refreshments on the way, and took a slightly shorter route back. Pretty warm in the sun, so we were glad of our hats. My phone is recording close on 10,000 steps today, and my knees and muscles are also registering the fact!
We found a supermarket that sold fresh milk and cartons of OJ, so those and a screw-top bottle of rosé weighed us down a bit on the walk back to the shuttle bus.
Wednesday 18 February
Lazy day at sea: reading, snoozing and playing off-line games on the iPads. As usual, we met and chatted with some interesting people at mealtimes, and after lunch we had fun watching the crew pancake race at the pavilion. But why must the accompanying muzak and commentary be so bloody deafening?
Catering today: curate’s egg. My portion of supposedly slow-cooked lamb was pink and tough, though Martyn’s was comme il faut. We shall have rather a lot of feedback for Cunard after this trip. The QV is starting to show her age, and cleaning of the common areas is not what it should be be. We’re booked on another Cunard cruise in May, but I suspect that’ll be our last.
Thursday 19 February
Wonderful Lisbon again. I was awake to follow our progress up the Tagus Estuary, and got good views of the Belém Tower, the monument to the Discoveries and, at a distance, the Monastery.
Once docked, we went along to Santa Apolónia station and bought day tickets for buses, metros etc. I hate ticket vending machines. I pressed the wrong tit, and got a ticket for one for two days rather than two tickets for one day. The official on site didn’t have the customer service ethic I’d have hoped for, eg ‘Oh, don’t worry, sir: I’ll swap it for two one-day passes’. Nah: we had to buy another one-day job and forfeit a day’s worth. Bugger. Still, we may have got our money’s worth, if only for the convenience of not having to buy tickets, and we did two metro and five bus rides. Soon after alighting from the bus up to the castle I realised that I hadn’t got my hat. Fortunately, the bus waits for a while before starting down again, so I dashed - well, hobbled briskly - back down to see my hat on top of the dashboard, and a broad grin on the face of the driver. Good job: apart from being highly vexed if I’d lost it, I’d have been in seriously deep shit, Martyn having bought me said rather fine Harris tweed cap for Christmas!
Mishaps apart, we have had a lovely day in Lisbon. Not knowing when, if ever, I’ll be back in Lisbon, I wanted to revisit the Estufa Fria, which was as wonderful as ever. The lady on the cash desk was short of change, so between us we scrambled together our OAP entry tickets from my odd bits of change. Limited use of my very limited Portuguese, but she was gracious enough not to drop into English. A few plants I hadn’t registered before, including a Brazilian native know as Ontem, hoje e amanhã: yesterday, today and tomorrow. I’ll research that later, but imagine the delicate blue flowers open on day 1 and fall on day 3. Quite a bit of poultry noise in there: we met a bantam cock and hen at one point, and there were plenty of ducks and geese in the garden and on the pond.
From there we walked down through the park to the Pombal rotunda. On the way we were stopped by an American woman, who told us that a certain former prince had been arrested. We keep learning of momentous events during our travels: the Queen’s death while we were in Bellinzona, the resignation of Liz Truss while we were in the Algarve. Watch this space while we’re away in May!
From Pombal we took the metro to the Cáis do Sodré, aiming to have lunch in the Mercado da Ribeira. We had a brief stroll through the market, then went across to the café side. It was so busy and noisy that we opted instead for one of the rip-off tourist traps in the Rua Augusta. Good for people watching, and the meals were decent, if extortionate.
We’ve done the bus ride to the castle several times - my first was in a 1950s British bus, which taught me great respect for the drivers. The buses are a lot more modern now, but they still demand a lot of skill. The peacocks at the castle were in fine voice, and on this fine day the views were very good.
We were again quite weary when we got back on board, but had rather better memories than of our wanderings on sundry Canaries.
Friday 20 February
We had a poorish night: I think a deck plate on the deck above us was pulling the stunt we met on our second Queen Elizabeth cruise: when the sea was rough, it popped up at intervals, and then crashed shut. That time we insisted on being moved to another cabin, and in fact moved twice. We hope the Bay of Biscay will be less rowdy tonight.
Lazy day, after yesterday’s exertions. We went to an incredibly technical talk by the Chief Engineer. Interesting to the limited extent that I could understand it, but I suspect it went over the heads of most of the very full audience.
A nice martini before dinner, which itself was OK. We did a quiz afterwards, joined by two elderly and unsociable sisters, and watched a bit of the dancing next. Some highly accomplished dancers,
Saturday 21 February
The old tub is getting a bit shabby. Lots of cracked and cloudy windows, automatic doors that work for a day or two then break down again, rickety hand rails in the lifts. Our air conditioning gave up the ghost this morning (but has been fixed), and the balcony door doesn’t latch until it’s locked with the key. The WC went on strike the other day, refusing to flush when asked, then flushing unbidden some minutes later. The catering is nothing like as good as it once was, and the entertainment, though often good, falls short of our previous experience. Lunches that used to be free in the pub are now charged, as is room service. Shuttle buses are offered in few ports, some which involve rather long walks - as much as I could manage these days. Altogether, the value for money, ever marginal, is now in free fall.
Sunday 23 February
Very brisk disembarkment process: out of the cabin around 08:25, in the car by 09:00. Not a bad drive home, despite rain, fog and racing cyclists in the Ashdown Forest.
Mountains of laundry later, I feel an early night coming on.
