I watched the patient being off-loaded in Bermuda early yesterday evening (I had gone on deck to watch the brief sunset over the island), so the rumors of his demise were a bit premature. I had wondered, given the huge capacity of the ship’s freezers, that they couldn’t just keep a body on board until the Azores.
The “Friends of Dorothy” meeting had a larger turnout than I expected, somewhere between 25 and 30 gentlemen, mostly from south Florida, but I did meet a couple (realtors, natch) from Phoenix.
This 18-day cruise continues on to the Baltic from Copenhagen for an additional 10 days, and almost everyone I have talked to is going for the full 28 days, many of them booked to return from London on the Cunard line.
The weather is quite pleasant, 70’s yesterday, upper 60’s today, so I am glad I didn’t bring my heavy anorak from Alaska.
Dining alone is quite pleasant, especially with a bottle of wine and my little notebook to write in. From my table I can watch the parade of diners in various degrees of finery and pleasantry. Of course, some people are curious about my dining alone in the Main Dining Room (rather than in the informal Lido or other venues); one young lady even asked if I was a professional food critic, since she had seen me writing notes.
Dinner highlight was spiced apple vichyssoise and I continued to work on my bottle of Pinot Noir from the previous night—I should be able to finish it off tonight and start a new bottle tomorrow.
The lectures on this cruise have been vastly superior to the other cruises I have been on. Today, J. Revell Carr, former president and director of Mystic Seaport in Connecticut, recounted the amazing story of the HMS Anglo-Saxon, a merchant marine ship sunk by the Germans in the early part of WW II. Seven sailors started out in an open lifeboat—and two survived the 70-day journey to the Bahamas. Ironically, one of the survivors headed back to England in a ship that was torpedoed before reaching Liverpool, and he never made it home. The one long-term survivor lived out his life with all the symptoms of major traumatic stress disorder.
I finished reading Pelevin’s novel, which creates an entirely new myth of were-wolves and were-foxes that offers an alternative to the Vlad the Impaler, Dr. Polidori, and Bram Stoker version (and different from the X-Men story, as well). It’s too bad that the narrative is marred by the central character’s tendency to offer synopses of a wide range of philosophies and scientific theories. The relationship between the narrator and her lover, Alexander, is honest and often moving, but it is weighed down by the discourses and interruptions. The novel was recommended by the NY Times Book Review; if anyone else has read it, I’d be interested in your thoughts.
I’m finishing this entry in the Crow’s Nest Lounge at the top of the ship, with the tour consultant on one side answering questions about ports we’ll be visiting (actually, very good answers to very specific questions), and the DJ on the other side giving juggling lessons (don’t ask).
Hope all is well with my readers. More later.
This 18-day cruise continues on to the Baltic from Copenhagen for an additional 10 days, and almost everyone I have talked to is going for the full 28 days, many of them booked to return from London on the Cunard line.
The weather is quite pleasant, 70’s yesterday, upper 60’s today, so I am glad I didn’t bring my heavy anorak from Alaska.
Dining alone is quite pleasant, especially with a bottle of wine and my little notebook to write in. From my table I can watch the parade of diners in various degrees of finery and pleasantry. Of course, some people are curious about my dining alone in the Main Dining Room (rather than in the informal Lido or other venues); one young lady even asked if I was a professional food critic, since she had seen me writing notes.
Dinner highlight was spiced apple vichyssoise and I continued to work on my bottle of Pinot Noir from the previous night—I should be able to finish it off tonight and start a new bottle tomorrow.
The lectures on this cruise have been vastly superior to the other cruises I have been on. Today, J. Revell Carr, former president and director of Mystic Seaport in Connecticut, recounted the amazing story of the HMS Anglo-Saxon, a merchant marine ship sunk by the Germans in the early part of WW II. Seven sailors started out in an open lifeboat—and two survived the 70-day journey to the Bahamas. Ironically, one of the survivors headed back to England in a ship that was torpedoed before reaching Liverpool, and he never made it home. The one long-term survivor lived out his life with all the symptoms of major traumatic stress disorder.
I finished reading Pelevin’s novel, which creates an entirely new myth of were-wolves and were-foxes that offers an alternative to the Vlad the Impaler, Dr. Polidori, and Bram Stoker version (and different from the X-Men story, as well). It’s too bad that the narrative is marred by the central character’s tendency to offer synopses of a wide range of philosophies and scientific theories. The relationship between the narrator and her lover, Alexander, is honest and often moving, but it is weighed down by the discourses and interruptions. The novel was recommended by the NY Times Book Review; if anyone else has read it, I’d be interested in your thoughts.
I’m finishing this entry in the Crow’s Nest Lounge at the top of the ship, with the tour consultant on one side answering questions about ports we’ll be visiting (actually, very good answers to very specific questions), and the DJ on the other side giving juggling lessons (don’t ask).
Hope all is well with my readers. More later.
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