Journal from 26 May:
Yesterday, the sea was as calm as glass, truly. It was beautiful but boring. An enormous pumpkin-coloured full moon at night compensated for the lack of drama during the day. The moonlight trail from the edge of the horizon to the ship was fabulous. How can one not believe that one could step out upon such a trail to walk towards the Goddess of the Hunt in all her glory?
The previous night, the moon was white and full and my first view of it from my bed was a wonderful surprise. I took many photographs, all of which look like nothing more than a tiny disk or hole in a dark blanket. Even so, perhaps they captured the memory a little.
This morning, a terrific contrast in the emotions of the waters. The waves are so high that they dash themselves against the very top of the portholes on Deck 2 where Mass is celebrated each morning in the Illuminations Theatre. It is rather a fitting location, as the backdrop is a map of the heavens with twinlking constellations and large bronze murals of celestial classical guardians of the sky are on either side of the stage.
At first I thought we had been cheated somewhat because the 'new' celebrant is not a real priest. He is a deacon, which means, inter alia, that he does not have the power to perform the magic of transforming the wafers into the Body of Christ. Instead, he brings a little plastic food container each morning and counts out the number of blessed Hosts needed to satisfy the audience. It is very disappointing, although he is a nicer man than the last priest, who was an important political and social figure in the EU and a Monsignor with a wicked tongue and the desire to humble any one who dared to exhibit any intellectual spark whatsoever. As a survivor of throat cancer, I think he was daring us to have faith that we would not become infected by others, because he served communion of BOTH kinds and we all were forced to imbibe of the Blood of Christ from a communal chalice. Was this the source of my terrible illness? I hope not, although I wouldn't be surprised. The ship was packed with people who hacked and sneezed and honked into hankerchiefs constantly. It could have been from the Chlice or from sharing a lift with any one of these contaminated elderly specimens, that I caught my awful cold.
I had bee attending Mass on a daily basis until I fell ill. After that, I did not appear in the Illuminations again until yesterday when the politically grand but rather sadistic Monsignor had disembarked and the deacon had taken his place.
At first I did not have high expectations when the third celebrant appeared, but I came to respect him greatly. Although married (as deacons are allowed to be), he appears to have devoted his life wholeheartedly to the service of God and the public. He is based in Dover where he has served the needs of all who come and go at the port for decades. A truly wonderful man, actually.
I do miss our first priest, Father Roger Stone, who was truly a GOOD man with a big heart and a humble disposition. He was delgithed to have been chosen but was given a very brief 'gig' as they put him off at Southampton after the short Transatlantic Crossing. I shall keep in touch with him, though. He was a wonderful, inspiring man.
The priests are considered to be part of the 'Entertainment Team' on Cunard which is bizarre in one sense but logical in another. I was a little surprised by the number of people who attend Mass on a daily basis, but I suppose that they, like me, find it more convenient than a trip to the local Church at home and like to commune more closely with God when they feel that their safety may be a lttle more precarious, thousands of miles out on the open sea. Whatever their motives, I know that for my part it has been very interesting to see how different the three 'celebrants' have been and how diverse the ritual of the Mass that each performs.
Enough of the Entertainment onboard the Queen Mary 2. You will have to speak to Jim if you wish to hear about the nightly shows or the Casino action. I retired to the stateroom each night after dinner and it has become increasingly difficult to it through the formal dining each night.
I enjoy the days at sea, frankly. When one is visiting ports, one is conscious of a terrible anxiety not to waste the few hours one is given to go ashore. Frustration at not having more time combined with endless queues and other bureaucratic nonsense, including heightened security measures (all of which are utter nonsense) make the port calls less than totally pleasant.
If I had not fallen ill, I would have had a better experience during the last week. As it was, my throat was so sore that I was unable to swallow or even take a glass of water without experiening great discomfort. I ended up sucking on ice cubes for a little relief. I did not go ashore at all at Hamburg on our second visit to that port, although I was determined to walk the streets of Southampton. By then, Jim had succumbed to the sore throat, although he never has as severe an illness as I or even Freya experience. It put him in a bad temper though and he returned to the ship early on our day at Southampton.
I walked the old city walls (well, not the battlements but on the ground below) and visited Tudor House and the Bargate. It was so different from the city I knew almost 40 years ago! Tudor House has become very high tech with interactive exhibits and so on. The garden, however, remains its glory and is a typical, glorious English garden in medieval style with all the old herbs and 'cottage garden' flowers.
I then walked to the City Centre and ducked into Debenham's where I had purchased my Royal Albert Breakfast Set and my first turntable in my firstr year at University.
They advertised free wi-fi so I spent my meagre amount of funds upon a cup of carrot soup in order to take advantage of the free internet. Alas, I discovered that the system was down! Really disappointing. The soup was too spicy and I never would have ordered it were it not for the promise of the wi-fi.
After that, I tried on some beautiful hats that were the sort worn to weddings or to the Royal Enclosure at Ascot. They cost about 75 pounds each, but if I had the money, I probably would have bought one as I love hats and one can't find them in the States. As I had no money, though, I had to satisfy myself with a photograph. There is a Royal Ascot night on board the Queen Mary 2, by the way, so the hypothetical hat WOULD have had a practical use!
By that time, I had run out of time. We are given so few hours at each port. I had to find my way back to the free shuttle service thorugh a new open market that has sprung up like an army of mushrooms in the Bargate area sometime during the past forty years. They seem to exist throughout Europe, especially on Saturdays. Lots of stalls selling cheap tat and things like mobile phones, watch batteries, cheap clothing from China (not Chinese styles, but the usual hoodies and trousers found in all the Targets and K Marts and so on in the States) as well as stalls selling cheap awful sweets and doughtnuts. 'Maxi-doughnuts' were the focus of one of the stalls, with awful enormous huge greasy doughnuts that would be the ideal of Homer Simpson but would create a major health risk in any ordinary person.
For future visitors to Southampton West Quay, I recommend the Tudor House, the old Church of St. Michael (one of the oldest in England) and the Dolphin Hotel, where Jane Austen celebrated her 18th birthday. Beyond that, the 'Walk the City Walls' option is truly wonderful, with reproductions of old ships being repaired and other historical touches along the way. There are plaques that give information about each of the gates and towers as well.
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