1) Slept like a champ in a wide and soft bed, with vivid dreams I can no longer recall. But not wanting to miss anything (for instance, my 9 AM haircut), I set a wakeup call for 7 AM. Morning pages at the little desk, followed by a quick shower, because, as the sign says in the bathroom, “Water is precious.”
2) The room service menu card said that breakfast could be brought from 7-7:30, 8-8:30, and 9-9:30. So imagine my surprise when, just getting out of the shower, there was a knock on the door at 7:36 with my 8:00 AM breakfast. I managed to struggle into a robe and take the tray as it was handed to me by the smiling steward, a tray just a bit too wide for the doorway.
2a) But laden with good things: a pot of coffee, a small pot of skim milk, rounds of banana cut into a little bowl, smoked salmon scrambled eggs on toast rounds, one chicken sausage, and one tiny chocolate croissant — just like those found in Marriotts all over Europe. I could live off them. I settled the tray on my coffee table, and myself onto the settee and into my day.
3) Turns out I’m on the same deck as the ship’s library, a space illuminated by the Atlantic sun and the fluorescent interiors of the bookshelves. At 8:30 many of the chairs were already filled with contemplative readers. The day before I’d spotted a book in the Royalties section (because of course a Cunard library would have a section on Royalties). The attendant kindly unlocked it for me, and The Secret Royals: Spying and the Crown, from Victoria to Diana, by Richard J. Aldrich and Rory Cormac is mine until 2 PM the day before we dock. It’s thick enough to stun and ox and I’ll never get through it in time, but it’s already giving me ideas about places to visit near London.
4) The library is conveniently next to the spa, where I had my 9 AM haircut. I felt like there was a lot of unnecessary stroking and arranging of my hair throughout, but the results were admirable.
4a) In the chair next to me was an elderly lady observing to her stylist how her hair was falling out. Her doctor has suggested that it might be anxiety. The stylist asked was anything making her anxious. She said she replied to him, “Do you live in the same world as I do?”
5) With that out of the way, and not wanting to while away my time in my cabin, I put on my cap and blazer and neckerchief and took a brisk promenade on the open deck just below mine. Each time you circumnavigate the ship it’s 1.1 km. I thought of that woman with the monocle in the overlooked Sherlock Holmes comedy Pursuit to Algiers who, making a play for Dr. Watson, declared “A brisk three-mile hike before each meal!” And it was a brisk day for it, too! I was far from the only person walking, and as everyone was walking at different paces, a few traffic jams clogged the way sometimes.
Pursuit to Algiers. Rosalind Ivan as Agatha Dunham second from right, with monocle (of course).
5a) Now I know how to get to the pool! There were a couple hardy souls swimming laps in there, but it’s far too chilly for that for me.
6) The motion of the ship is hitting me more obviously this time. While not really seasick, it just seems to be making me really tired. I slept a solid hour before lunch.
7) I was shown to a table alone in the dining room while the captain’s noon announcement was blaring over the speakers. I can’t concentrate on everything, dahling!
8) For lunch I had these artfully seasoned chickpea cakes, tagliatelle pasta with chicken and walnuts, and a berry crumble.
9) And then another nap.
10) But I remembered the scrum for tea tables on my first crossing, which I wanted to avoid. Bringing my new book, I got into the Queen’s Room 20 minutes before tea, and the tables bordering the dance floor were already fully occupied. I found a cozy banquette in the back and delved into my new book until the string trio launched into Eine Kleine Nachtmusick and the parade of waiters entered from both kitchen entrances bearing their teapots and their platters of sandwiches, scones, and pastries. To applause. It’s what Cunard does best.
11) That said, they were all pronouncing “scone” to rhyme with “bone,” which it’s supposed to rhyme with “gone.” Or “HAHnsel.” Or “ponce,” or something.
12) After my first cup and halfway through my sandwiches I was joined by a party of three, a male couple with one sister, all roughly my age, and we made pleasant conversation over the din of the tea drinkers and the string orchestra. It’s really not the Done Thing to decline to have people sit with you at afternoon tea, and I actually did welcome having some company.
13) Returning to my cabin, the horrifying discovery that I did not have my key card. Nor was it in my place at tea, so I had to stand in line at the purser’s office (where there is always a line), for a new one.
14) That meant I couldn’t have a third nap before the gay social hour at 5. This time I got there while there were still seats. It was quite populated, about 20 gentlemen, and I had some good conversations.
15) This was the night of the Red and Gold Gala, the first of two gala nights on board. To honor the theme without excess I wore Daddy’s red-and-gold cufflinks and studs, my citrine on a long chain (that needs polishing), and red socks.
16) At dinner the single lady did not appear, but another elderly couple joined we three who remained. They seem to be connected with economics education in Central Asia or something, and we spent a lot of dinner discussing travel in that region and Europe.
16a) We had yet to have a full table.