Names and numbers

The past week has proven once again why I still love to live in Finland.

Last Friday, just over half of the Finnish parliament (52%) decided to vote in favour of gender-neutral marriage. It was big news for a day and rainbow flags were waved on the steps of the parliament building in celebration. This slim majority decision shows that the democratic process works in Finland and that minorities can have rights too.

Unfortunately, the Archbishop of the Lutheran church may have got a little carried away during all the merriment. He is a modern theologian and, in keeping with the times, used his Facebook account to inform the world that he thought the parliament’s decision was a wonderful thing. This led to 12,000 people resigning from the church in protest over the weekend. You couldn't make it up!

Although this reaction from a disgruntled congregation may appear as a mass exodus of biblical proportions, we should remember that the church has well over 4 million members (75 % of the Finnish population, in fact). Percentage-wise, that means that only about 0.3% of the church population was actually against the idea of same sex marriage. They were such a small minority that they were deemed expendable for the sake of the 99.7% who had another opinion.

I love statistics, because they help me to quickly make some kind of sense of the world I live in. The only thing I try to keep in mind, however, is to question the source as, more often than not, something quoted online has very little substance when examined in detail. This recent gender-neutral marriage vote, for example, is a good example of this. In my opinion, surely it would have been worth knowing how much of the Finnish population is actually gay before putting everyone through the trauma of change.

Unfortunately, I could not find any official statistics to help answer this rather important detail.  However, I did discover that some Gallup polls put the figure for homosexuality in the USA as high as 10%. But then the question arose about what it is that actually classifies people as gay. 

Is being gay a lifestyle choice, do you have to remain gay permanently to be considered gay or is there actually a gay gene? Scientific research is extremely vague on this last part, although it appears to tentatively hint that there is no conclusive evidence that there is a genetic disposition towards homosexuality, despite recent unpublished reports to the contrary. 

And so my conclusion, concerning that vote in Finland last week, is that it has brought a new right to an as yet unknown minority. Let’s hope that this minority actually turns out to be larger than the 0.3% minority who had to leave their church in protest in the first place.

One week later and now we are about to celebrate Finnish Independence Day (6^th December). I always smile when I hear the name as I think Finnish National Day would be a far more appropriate term to use;  after all Finland has been a full-standing member of the EU since 1995. 

Unlike national days elsewhere, the Finnish occasion is actually a somber one, more in line with an Armistice Day than a party. 

I believe that the most bizarre tradition on the day is the president’s party. Every year about 2000 lucky guests (0.04% of the population BTW) will have the right to shake the president’s hand while the rest of the country watches on television (all funded by the tax payer, I might add).  The uninvited masses then take enormous pleasure in comparing and criticizing the dresses of the ladies being presented. You couldn't make it up!

I wish you all a nice weekend of celebration however and with whomever you choose.

Enjoying the November darkness

Vaasa, Finland in November

According to nearly all the Finns I know, November is the least enjoyed month of the year.  All the daylight we once had has now virtually gone, yet it is still too warm for snow to really settle and reflect what little light remains.  

With the Finns, it is always during November that you really notice that the very last remnants of summer joy and happiness have finally been smothered under a national wet blanket of gloom and depression.  

By the end of November, even the clothes worn by the public are almost always jet black, in harmony, I suppose, with the sadness of the surroundings and the general mood of the nation.

Here, in Finland, it has been said that November is the one time of the year when everyone becomes either a sociopath or a psychopath; the sociopaths ignore you when you say hello, while  the psychopaths are the ones doing all the talking.

Nevertheless, I can admit to quite liking November despite the bad reputation it has over here. I suppose this may have a lot to do with the fact that a Finnish November is just like the typical British winters I grew up with. I find that November is a wonderful time for relaxation before the Christmas mayhem begins, and what’s more, since nobody is expected to actually do anything in November, anything that gets done is always a bonus.  

A Finnish winter wheel

Here in Finland it is important to remember that November is the time of year when black ice and snow can appear at any time. As such the one thing that actually needs to be done in November is to change the wheels on cars. Most car owners will have  put winter wheels on their vehicles by now, which are actually studded tyres, even though the law says they are not needed before December 1st. You always know that winter is fast approaching by the distinct flamenco-like takka-takka sound those metal studs make on the asphalt. 

And so with Advent just around the corner, and the explosion of Christmas lights that will come with it, let me wish you all a gloomy November Friday, on what will undoubtedly be the final dark and dismal weekend of the year.

Weighing up the costs

A week has gone by since I returned to Finland and began dealing with a severe case of post-cruise stress (PCS). After the Saga Sapphire experience, readjustment to a normal civilian life has turned out to be much harder to do than anything anyone bothered to mention before I left. And finding the help needed to deal with it has not been easy either. Even in the internet age, it seems that very little support is given to PCS.

But I have learnt to adapt to my new circumstances and to take one day at a time.  Today, for example, I retaught myself how to make my own bed, cook some food and even sweep a floor; the day before I had even managed to summon the courage to weigh myself. Unfortunately, in that respect things hadn’t gone so well.  For it was then that I was confronted, in no uncertain terms, to the awful truth about what happens to anyone spending time on a cruise ship. Two weeks of 5-course-meals, lunchtime desserts, afternoon teas and evening G&T’s had taken a terrible toll on my body. I am sad to say that there are now five kilograms more of me in existence than before. A fitness regime has started.

As I hate gyms with a passion bordering on paranoia, I have decided instead to become a great supporter of bicycling. This is a good choice for me. After all, it is one of the few modes of transport still remaining where the traffic rules can be flaunted with impunity, which I find appealing.   It does feel so rebellious to go through a red light when there are no cars around.  

But don’t get me wrong here. Although I love the concept of breaking rules, I still believe that there are both sensible and irresponsible ways when going about doing it. Furthermore, I do not consider myself to be totally without regard for the sanctity of life, especially my own, as I go about losing those kilos. 

So during a sensible moment yesterday I invested in a set of lights for my bike. It took me a good hour to install them correctly, but I was very pleased with the result.

So after my efforts of last night, you can imagine just how disappointed I was this morning when I discovered that the first winter salvo of snow has been delivered. All those superb fitness plans I had put in place must now go on hold while I search around for snowshoes instead.

Day 14: All good things come to an end

In the Bay of Biscay 14/10/14

After the storm of the day before, Monday was actually spent enjoying a period of blissful calm far from landfall. Aboard the Saga Sapphire cruise ship, we are now in the Bay of Biscay sailing sedately between two large areas of low pressure. Our timing appears to have been perfect for a smooth crossing to England. 

Fortunately, the passenger casualties I had been expecting as a result of our ship’s pitching and rolling on Sunday never appeared. Somehow the dear wrinklies on board, many of whom I have become quite endeared to by now, had all survived intact, which proves that you don’t become old if you are stupid.

Well soon this particular Lap of the Western Med cruise will be over. Our bags are slowly being packed and this evening we will be having our last night on board before arrival and disembarkation in Southampton. I can imagine that the evening meal tonight will be a rather muted affair compared to all the wonderful dinner conversations previously had on board.  I am sure that tonight many of us will be sadly raising a parting glass to fellow passengers who, in all likelihood, will never be seen again.

And as partings go, this will be the last post I write on this blog for a while. To my readers, I do hope that you have enjoyed reading my musings as much as I have enjoyed writing them for you. On a final note, let me simply end by thanking  all of you who actively encouraged me to continue with this project for the duration of the cruise.  Take care and live long!

Day 13: Rockin’ an’ a rollin’

When a plane hits turbulence, the Captain switches on the fasten seatbelt sign and everyone returns to their seats. On a cruise ship, however, things are slightly different.  Here the captain simply tells everyone to hold onto the handrails tightly while we toss about. 

Today there is no mistake that we are now in the Atlantic. At the time of writing we are sailing off the coast of Portugal with 8 metre high swells rolling into our port side, which certainly makes the ship dance around a bit. There are a large number of passengers on the Saga Sapphire with walking sticks, so it is inevitable that there are going to be a few casualties by the end of the day.  However, there are also many passengers who have been brought down to the scourge of bad weather at sea; seasickness.   I am fortunate because I do not succumb to it. Personally, I think this may be down to having spent a great deal of my youth in an inebriated state and so I am rather used to staggering along corridors. However, for the other passengers there are always Stugeron seasickness tablets which are given out for free from the reception or bracelets using acupressure to alleviate the effects of seasickness that can be bought from the shop.

Kevin Woodford (centre) and celebrity guests

 For those not confined to their bunks, there was time earlier today to see a stage show of one of the UK’s most popular cookery game shows, Ready Steady Cook. The idea of the show is to make a meal with a limited amount of unknown ingredients in 25 minutes. The show was held in the famous Britannia Lounge on Deck 8 and was hosted by celebrity chef Kevin Woodford. As I had met Kevin before, I already knew he would be putting on a good show. And so, not only did  Kevin and the rest of the celebrity team succeed in making two very nice dishes under rather difficult circumstances; they also did it in a force 9 gale.

Day 12: Rough and ready in Gibraltar

During our morning sea voyage, many passengers watched pods of dolphins swimming around the ship. No voyage is complete without this wonderful site. Unfortunately I missed it all, and had to be content with listening to enthusiastic accounts of how you just had to be there. 

At the time of the dolphins, I was actually sitting on a good seat in the, by now familiar, Britannia Lounge, waiting to listen to a very interesting lecture on Spanish cuisine by celebrity cook, Jennipher Marshall-Jenkins, no less. Later that morning, as our ship was being moored in the Port of Gibraltar, we were sat on the Veranda sundeck, admiring the famous rock and enjoying a barbeque of tasty chorizo sausages that we had just learnt about in the lecture.  Life is tough!

                                                                                                                              

Gibraltar is to be our last port of call on this trip before starting the home leg to Southampton. Although the rock has been British since 1713, part of the peace treaty after the War of Spanish Succession, the name  actually originates from the Arabic (Jabal Tariq "Mountain of Tariq") and reflects the Moorish history of the region.   

As this was actually my second time to Gibraltar, I decided to avoid the Barbary apes most tourists see and simply wander around the shops during the day. Most of the other cruise-ship passengers had the same idea and were content to shop for duty-free perfumes and alcohol.  

Admittedly Gibraltar is not my favourite place to visit. If you take away the sunshine, all that remains is a fairly typical British high street with the usual tat. There is also a real rough and ready military feel to Gibraltar, which was reinforced, when I was there, by a redcoat re-enactment group parading through the high street.  

In the evening the Saga cruise company drove us to St Michael’s Cave on top of the famous rock to be able to listen to a concert given by the Gibraltar National Choir. Describing themselves as a national choir was an interesting choice of words in my opinion, when you consider that Gibraltar is actually a territory and not a nation.  Perhaps this is just something they say to rile their Spanish neighbours.  

Anyway, the concert itself was a magnificent success enjoyed by everyone who attended. Then as darkness filled the sky, we were driven back to our ship. Finally, with three final blasts of the ship’s horn, we eased our way between the pillars of Hercules and out of the Mediterranean.

Day 11: And they're off (in Alicante)

At the start of the Volvo Ocean Race

El Corte Inglés

This morning we arrived at our penultimate port of call; Alicante. It was once again a beautiful morning with 24 degree sunshine and a clear blue sky. Our shuttle bus took us from the Saga Sapphire cruise ship out of the docks where we had moored, and dropped us off right outside where the Volvo round the world ocean race was about to start tomorrow.

What a fabulous surprise to visit the official marina, filled as it was with hospitality tents, crews in florescent team colours posing on their yachts, camera-clicking spectators and a lively press eagerly looking for a new angle on this auspicious event in Alicante. Suddenly, a Spanish film crew thrust a camera into my face and a voice eagerly asked; “Ex cuus mee mister, is you from one of der boats, pleeese? Looking past the fabulous ocean yachts moored on the quay I could distinctly make out our own cruise ship, the Saga Sapphire, in the background.  “Of course I am,” I replied, waving generally in the direction of the vessels. Warming to the fact that they had an ocean racer in their lens they pursued. “How iz it to sail around der world tomorrow?” Unfortunately, my mother dragged me away from the cameras before I could give the viewers of Spanish television my glorious account of ala carte menus and dancing in night clubs until the wee hours.  

And so we walked away along the famous promenade of Alicante with its distinctive wavy pattern, admiring the smaller boats in the marina. Then suddenly my dear mother, like a bloodhound picking up a fresh scent, set off in a new direction.  A couple of blocks later we came to our target, El Corte Inglés. For those not in the know, El Corte Inglés is a famous Spanish department chain-store found all across the Iberian Peninsula. 

Although I had never heard of these stores before this trip, I have now discovered that they are very well known, especially by English ladies (of a certain age) who are attracted to them like iron filings to magnets. They all say it is because of the excellent café and loos on the top floor.  I suppose there must be some truth in this because I noticed that there were already quite a few lady cruise-ship passengers who had made it to the top floor by the time we got there.

Day 10: Rambling in Barcelona

Standing on La Rambla

This morning, we arrived in Barcelona, the capital of Catalonia. This is the place where great football, architecture and art come together. After a nice breakfast in the Veranda Grill on Deck 9, we were allowed to disembark from our cruise ship, the Saga Sapphire, at 09:00.

As both my mother and I had been in Barcelona before, albeit on different occasions, we decided to limit ourselves to walking around the famous boulevard known as La Rambla this time. The place is full of vibrancy with  little streets either side leading off to a warren of interesting lanes and alleyways. In my opinion, if you can’t love La Rambla in Barcelona, you can’t love life!  

The indoor market

The indoor market

One of the highlights of our morning walk was a visit to the indoor market. This is a very traditional Catalonian market where fresh fruit and vegetables, prehistoric-looking monkfish, and skinned sheep heads (with eyes still in place) are all found under the same roof. This colourful aromatic spectacle is in sharp contrast to the sanitized packaged supermarket experience that I have become used to in my daily life. We eventually ended up spending a good 20 minutes meandering through this wonderful hall of commerce.

A telescopic monopod

 A new gadget is owned 

That perfect shot

One of the great finds on this trip happened today in Barcelona. We managed to actually buy a telescopic mobile monopod for 20 Euros. An amazing gadget I never knew I needed. Simply put your mobile phone at the end of one, switch on the camera and bluetooth, and you can start taking amazing selfies. 

We had a lot of fun practicing with the one we got although none of the first pictures were very good at all. However, after a lot of unsuccessful attempts we finally managed to find a local called Pablo who was patient enough to pose with us until we got that perfect shot.

Day 9: Into the Bay of Pirates

Monaco Harbour from the Palace. MV Sapphire (top right) 

A room with a view

This morning we were woken-up to the usual tentative knock on the door from our cabin boy bringing us our tea. The time was just coming up to 7 a.m. and the pilot was in the final stages of bringing our cruise ship, the Saga Sapphire, to her birth in Monaco harbour. 

For me, this particular morning was a true once-in-a-lifetime never-to-be-repeated experience. After all, it is not every day I get out of bed, open the balcony door and step outside to admire a view consisting of a grand palace, that famous Monaco Grand Prix tunnel, and privately-owned gin-palace cruisers … dressed only in my underpants and with a cup and saucer in hand.

The Monaco principality (as it is known in polite society) is the home of some of the world’s richest tax dodgers. More than 700 years ago, the country was actually founded when the first member of the Grimaldi family disguised himself as a monk to persuade the guard of the fort here to let him in as an act of charity. Once inside, it was only a short amount of time before Grimaldi and his cohorts had control. Looking at the wealth here today, that was obviously the start of a good thing, which only goes to show that cunning and thievery actually pay rather well.

Slow train to Monte Carlo

Unfortunately, our visit to Monaco turned out to be another of those irritatingly short excursions that Saga had put on their itinerary; we only had a measly 3 hours ashore. And so after a brisk walk up to the palace from the harbour, my mother decided we should go on a 30-minute tour around the entire country in an embarrassing little tourist road train. 

Now, normally I would not have been found dead in one of those horrible vehicles but on this occasion I agreed as time was so short. And so we trundled round all the famous sites of Monaco, whistle blowing occasionally, at a rather more leisurely speed than Lewis Hamilton or Kimi Räikkonen would have liked.

Day 8: Galled by the Gauls

Rocking the world.

My mother bought some stretchy Spanish pants in Palma yesterday. Today, she decided to wear them for the first time. Trust me, it is an awkward moment when a son is asked to give advice to a mother on her choice of pants. All I could think of saying was that if they work for Cher, Tina Turner and Mick Jagger, then why not for you!

I promised to take a rock album cover photo of her when I got the chance. It was going to be an interesting day.

Sète

This morning I realised that this is Tuesday, so we must have arrived in a place called Sète in the south of France. Once ashore, it didn’t take long to discover that France is remarkably different from Spain in many ways. Besides the language, here everybody smokes, drives around in cars covered in dents and scratches and there is rather a lot of dog shit on the pavements.

Sète (pronounced set) really is a charming place to visit and we had a lot of fun walking over the bridges crossing the canals. It’s easy to see why it is often described as the 'Little Venice of the Languedoc'. A fleet of fishing boats and trawlers line the quay and there is a bustle of working life here.

A nice French  cafe

After our morning hike to the viewpoint and back, it was nice to sit and enjoy life in one of the cafes in the centre. The café we chose actually turned out to be one of those places in France where you are punished for not speaking the local language fluently. 

My French is a little rusty and I made the mistake of ordering two cafe Americanos. The waitress with typical Gallic indifference eventually placed two very sad cups of black gritty coffee in front of us and a bill for EUR 3:40. 

Although I was a little nonplussed about this interpretation of American coffee, we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves observing the other customers in the café. It was wonderful to see a typical French café with real French people in it, excluding of course the Finglishman and the woman with the stretchy pants.

Unfortunately, the waitress had decided that as we were not the kind of clientele her establishment catered for, she would not encourage us to come again. Unlike the other more respectable customers, we were not offered a complementary glass of water with our coffee and when I paid the bill with a five Euro note, the waitress decided not to bother bringing back the change.

Now, for me this was just an entertaining contrast to the sycophantic service we have been having on board the Saga Sapphire cruise ship for the past week. I was certainly not going to make a fuss over a couple of Euros and I enjoyed smiling at the waitress every time she walked passed, knowing that she knew that we knew that she had ripped us off. I do love the French.

The only potential fly in the ointment here actually came from my mother. Inspired, perhaps, by a new found strength from those stretchy pants, she wanted to have a go at the surly waitress. She told me that as a Yorkshire woman, she believed that there are some things that must never go unsung. And that particular French waitress had most certainly crossed the line. 

Now this would all have ended quite dramatically until I reminded her that shouting in English in a café in the south of France would achieve absolutely nothing; and besides it was my 2 Euros anyway and I thought it had all been worth it.     

DAY 7: Palma and Afternoon Tea

On the streets of Palm

Palma

Well today we arrived in Palma, Mallorca. And what a beautiful gem of a town that is. After the Saga Sapphire cruise ship arrived to the port in the early morning, we were allowed to disembark and make our way through the quiet sleepy town in the warm morning sunshine. This enchanting Balearic capital has a wealth of attractions to offer, including the Bellver Castle which has dominated the skyline since the 14th century, and a cathedral which is a Gothic masterpiece that took almost 400 years to complete. On virtually every street there is something colourful and wonderful to please the senses.

In Palma you can see, hear, feel, touch and taste Spanish artistic passion everywhere; the flamenco of the guitar playing buskers or the shouts of the street sellers.

Our one grouch with the Saga cruise company so far was that our time in Mallorca was ridiculously short. Unbelievably, the ship was scheduled to leave this wonderful place already at 13:30. 

And so it was with heavy hearts that we reluctantly returned on board, wondering if we had made the right decision. However, once back the pampering began and it didn’t take long before we were enjoying ourselves again.

Afternoon tea

Afternoon tea

Somebody told me the other day that the average age of the passengers on this particular cruise ship is 75. I suppose it is probably true, even though at certain times of the day it seems more like 85. The afternoon tea ritual which starts in the Britannia Lounge at 16:15 precisely, is one of those moments.  

As the nationality of the passengers is exclusively British, this is a very important part of the day. With a classical orchestra in the background, English scones are served with cream cakes and tarts of every flavour, while white gloved waiters tour the lounge making sure your cup of tea is forever piping hot and full. The conversation each day now turns to politely commenting on what your neighbour has managed to do ashore that day. Expressions like ‘oh, really’, I say, or ‘I quite agree’ are the usual way to make this a pleasing occasion. I have to admit, that after seven days of this I am starting to miss having the opportunity to curse and swear. Nobody ever does this…ever. And I think that soon the time will come to use some of my Finnish language skills again. This evening, for example, before going up to bed, I plan to go to the bow of the ship, face into the wind and at the top of my voice yell those immortal words of my adopted Nordic countrymen…  Perkele, Viitu, Saatana. Then, I know I will be perfectly fine for a little more afternoon tea conversation tomorrow.

Day 6: Hygiene hysteria

A sanitizer

Hygiene plays a major role in the daily life of a Saga cruise ship. The entrances to all public areas have sanitization points, and nobody is allowed to enter any of the restaurants if their hands have not been properly disinfected. The members of crew are continuously wiping and polishing every surface to ensure that the ship maintains the same hygiene rating as a hospital operating theatre.  

All this extra vigilance is standard fare on a cruise ship today and was originally put into place to counteract all the media interest in the norovirus aboard cruise ships. There are many horror stories out there of ships being forced to quarantine passengers to their cabins for the duration of the holidays in order to contain outbreaks of the illness.  Disinfecting passengers at every opportunity may seem a little over the top, but the procedure does work in terms of preventing disease, and after a while you hardly notice it going on at all.

Valencia

Our crew on shore leave

Today we arrived at Valencia, Spain. The harbour is a major container hub and for me the best thing about the city was watching the activity around the port area. Such hubs are where the biggest container ships offload their cargo before it is reloaded onto smaller ships for distribution to smaller ports. Unfortunately, I am sad to say that this really is the most interesting thing about Valencia in my opinion. I so much wanted to like Valencia but I didn’t. We took a shuttle bus into the centre and wandered around for a bit. Admittedly, there are nice buildings there but nothing really inspiring that we saw. However, we did spot some of the ship’s crew enjoying a few hours of shore leave in the city. They were having their pictures taken by the Cathedral door. 

Apart from that nice moment, I seem to recall that the cathedral square was full of litter, the few buskers around were looking more sinister than friendly, and the parks and alleyways were reeking with the unmistakable pong of urine.  I would have so much wanted a few of those hygiene dispensers around. Obviously, I am becoming far too institutionalized by life on a cruise ship.

Day 5: Land Ahoy!

Day 5: Land ahoy

A Sergeant Pepper moment.

There are few places in the world where you can really imagine a meeting between the north and the south.  Sailing through the Straits of Gibraltar, with the lights of Africa to starboard and the Rock of Gibraltar to port, happens to be one of them.  Last night, while this north south juxtaposition came into sharp focus, my mother and I were actually enjoying a wonderful Asian meal in one of the ship’s restaurant called, believe it or not, East meets West. This rather bazaar unplanned coincidence set the tone for a rather surreal evening. After our meal we went to what was billed as a Beatles concert in the Britannia Lounge on Deck 8. I imagined it would be a rather tame affair in view of the average age of those on board. However, with the benefit of hindsight I have come to realize that the passengers on the Saga Sapphire cruise ship are actually children of the 60’s. I need to check more carefully what they put into those free drinks!

Almeria

A pool in the Alcazaba

Our ship awaits.

Anyway, the next morning we arrived at our first port of call, Almeria. This Spanish town gets over 3,000 hours of sunshine a year, apparently, and has the greatest number of cloudless days in the whole country. Today was one of them. It was wonderful to finally be let loose on shore and to see a few badly dressed people and dare I say it…children. In the midst of all the happy mayhem of this sleepy Spanish town, we enjoyed a nice sunny walk around the town’s splendid Moorish fortress known as the Alcazaba. How can you not fall in love with a place that has a name like that?  This Arab fortress was built by the Caliph of Cordoba, Abderramán III in the 10^th century and has three huge walled enclosures.

But all too soon, it was time to be press ganged back on board the Saga Sapphire for cocktails as the tugboats pulled us gently out to sea.

Day 4: Meeting the Captain

A Captain with two wonderful guests.

Yesterday evening was our first formal evening on board the Saga Sapphire cruise ship. Yes, the time had finally arrived for my mother to put on her stilettos and evening dress and for me to don the James Bond suit and dickey bow. It was also time for Captain McLundie to finally meet us. He is a gregarious Scot who has worked at Saga for more than 15 years. 

During his tenure as Captain he has even sailed the Baltic Sea on several occasions. After exchanging a few pleasantries about Finnish port towns, we all decided to have a picture taken to remind us of this momentous occasion. 

We then enjoyed cocktails in the Britannia Lounge before finally heading off to dinner. Unfortunately, the Captain’s duties prevented him from joining us for a meal on our table, so we dined instead with a very nice group of people, including a sprightly 92-year-old former spitfire pilot who had recently made a tandem jump for charity. And this is the unexpected part of this adventure. Instead of being a shipload of doddery fools, the other guests are incredibly fascinating people to meet. In fact, I have yet to meet a single boring ass. However, I have still not been to the gym on Deck 2.

Entertaining the guests

At the time of writing, the weather is enjoyably hot and sunny. Our balcony door is open and the hypnotic sound of the ship’s wake is all that can be heard. We have yet to make landfall, although we should be arriving off the coast of Tangiers this evening before entering the Mediterranean.  

As the theme of this cruise is Food and Drink, earlier today, after the Latin dance workout, we listened to an extremely entertaining 60-minute show by celebrity chef, Kevin Woodford.  The title of the show was reluctant cooks, and it was a bake off between the Captain and the Cruise Director. It sounds naff, I know, but it was actually incredibly funny to watch.

Day 3: No line on the horizon

Switching on the TV news this morning and one of the top stories was the fact that Amazon has decided to put warnings on any Tom and Jerry cartoons sold through its website as they may be racist. This is because the cleaner in the 1957 series was a black woman named Mammi. This really got me thinking because I had never thought of Tom and Jerry in this way; violent yes, but racist no. As a child, the fact that the cleaner was a black lady no way implied that all black ladies were cleaners. 

However, I couldn't help but wonder, should Amazon wish to pursue this line of reasoning, whether the same racist warning should also be put on any Saga cruises that are advertised through the Amazon site or any of their affiliates. After all, every single one of the 700 passengers on the particular cruise I am on at the moment happens to be white, while almost all of the crew (95%) is Filipino. Unfortunately, I forgot to ask the cabin boy bringing the morning tea to my cabin for his opinion on this one.

Walk the mile

Anyway, as white paying guests, the first place we visited this morning was the Veranda restaurant for a modest breakfast, in comparison to the full English the morning before. This was then followed by another bout of Latin line dancing in the Britannia Lounge. Next came a new activity for us; a two-mile walk around Deck 12 to burn off the excess calories we had put on yesterday. 

The crew on a fire drill

Unfortunately, on the Saga Sapphire it is all too easy to become distracted from a self-imposed health regime however. After all, free ice cream and hamburgers are always on offer to paying white guests and it is just so very tempting to simply stand around watching the hive-minded crew going about their fire drills and daily chores.  When it comes to the natives, the Captain obviously believes that a busy ship is a happy ship.

Tonight is going to be an exciting evening as we will have our first formal dinner. This will be an occasion to meet the Captain and be photographed with him. I have already seen the podium being set up for the occasion. Admittedly, I did become quite annoyed with myself when I realized that this type of photo opportunity would be taking place. Two days earlier, when we came to Southampton by taxi, I totally forgot to have my picture taken with the driver.  

Day 2: All at sea

At the time of writing I am in the middle of the Bay of Biscay, 150 miles from the French coast. The Saga Sapphire cruise ship is cutting its way through the gentle sea on a sunny day with only the mildest of rolls to remind us that we are actually at sea. To be honest, I actually feel a little disappointed that things are so calm here. After all, the Bay of Biscay is supposed to be a place of horror; at least according to the cruise aficionados I have met on board, who all have their personal rite of passage stories about ‘the Bay’ as they call it.  These yarns are told with relish as conversation topics at mealtimes, recounting the times when chairs and tables have flown across busy restaurants or when drawers have sailed out of lockers and crashed into opposing cabin walls. I am amazed that any of the tellers of such stories are here to tell their tales at all.

Heating up the dance floor

So, as the day was not going to be spent with all the hatches battened down, the entertainment programme suddenly became a topic of interest. The first thing we tried out on the cruise itinerary was a salsa dance class. Ok, admittedly I was a little self conscious on the dance floor with all the grannies and three granddads around me. It was actually a salsa line dance we were doing, by the way. But then I decided that since I actually had nothing to lose by joining in, it could be a lot of fun. And it was!

Then it was time to relax while listening to a fascinating lecture on Spanish history. This was really well presented and I was most impressed that the lecture was recorded so you could watch it again later on one of the TV channels in your cabin. Clever idea!

Wine tasting

After a barbecue lunch on deck, a pleasant afternoon was spent listening to another fine lecture on the differences between a Chablis and a Chardonnay, aided by a few nice glasses of expensive plonk (£30 bottle) to reinforce the instructor’s key points. Unfortunately, I now realize that I seem to have mislaid our notes somewhere. Well if we don’t have time to watch the repeat on the TV tonight, we will just have to join the lecture again tomorrow.