by Chris Harris
Day 7 of a week aboard Cunard’s Queen Anne, sailing from Southampton to Norway and back. This is not a cruise review so much as a diary of what actually happens when you put 3,000 passengers on a floating hotel, give them unlimited food and, in our case, a drinks package. The good, the bad, the ridiculous and why, despite everything, I’d probably do it all again.
I was woken up in a state of thorough discombobulation. I’d just had a terrible nightmare in which someone who looked like Manuel from Fawlty Towers had cornered me in the cabin and, for some completely inexplicable reason, kept pushing me. I was shouting, “Eloise! Eloise! Eloise!” for her to come and save me, which in reality just woke her up.
I’ve had this before. About twenty years ago, after spending a week on the Norfolk Broads when it had been quite rocky, I had the most terrible nightmare on the night I got home in which my head was severed by a sheet of glass. It felt so tangible that it was absolutely awful.
Anyway, the boat was all over the place. It was quite difficult to remain upright even going to the bathroom. I bet everyone would have liked to go home on the last day with lovely weather, but instead it was awful.
I’m actually writing this at the start of the final day because, let’s face it, as you’ve probably worked out by now, cruise life is fairly repetitive. It’s deadly dull. Everyone looks really hacked off. The swimming pool is closed because the water is thumping from side to side. The captain reckons it might all improve by 4 p.m., and indeed it did.
I write this as we are off the coast of Norfolk. It’s pouring with rain. You’re not allowed out on the decks, so we’re basically killing time, roving around, eating and vegging out in the cabin. I’d put my dictated version of the Quizzicals into a proper first draft and, in fairness, I could have got loads of writing done today, but like everyone else on board, I’m temperamentally, all at sea, figuratively speaking. We just walk around the ship looking for something to do.
One of the most dismal aspects of this cruise has been the incidental music. Wherever possible they pump out pop music, boppy sort of stuff, or young people whining about love. It’s actually really bloody irritating, bearing in mind probably only ten per cent of the people on the cruise would appreciate it. I think they’re trying to brand the Queen Anne as a cool cruise ship. There’s lots of quasi-retro styling which, I have to say, rather fails, and I think they’re trying desperately to make the place feel funky. Unfortunately, whilst they may be trying to be funky, they’re funky and failing.
Let’s face it, with nothing much to do and Eloise worried about driving in the morning, we start drinking very early. We go on a crawl of our various preferred hideouts. We see the good-looking American couple. He’s looking even more hacked off than normal, while she seems to have given up attempting any conversation whatsoever. One rather suspects that what may possibly have been a cruise intended as an attempt to reconcile a relationship that has failed quite badly.
In the evening, the six Chinese people are at the Trough again. Without any doubt, they have been one of the absolute highlights of the cruise. We saw them another three or four times after their appearance in the dining room, and they just seemed completely bonkers, having a whale of a time. We also saw them at the gambling tables, playing cards with each other and getting pissed. They were the stars of the show. It would be difficult to believe that anybody enjoyed themselves more than they did. They set a very good example to everyone.
At 5 p.m. we sat for a couple of hours on the deck in the Pavilion. Looking out was actually lovely. We passed lots of gas fields and enormous wind turbines out at sea. The moody blue skies, the sun, the clouds and the rain provided an oil painting of a vista.
I managed to get myself very pissed, with Peronis, gin and tonic chasers and a nice Devon cider to boot. I can’t remember what I ate. In all honesty, I probably wouldn’t have wanted to anyway.
And then we crashed. Back to 6 pints on a Saturday night again on our return, quota for the week, the binge complete.
