Entry without a title.

People all around, but inside me endless emptiness without boundaries,the void at times unbearable, yet borne it must be, or life would cease to have meaning and without meaning the unbearable would become unlivable, and live I must and hope I must,hope that the joy of living will return.

Will somebody dance with me?

Woke up crying.No dreams,only tears streaming...The nights so lonely...My Olly,my monkey,when you left me my heart had died...I miss you so very,very much...The days, those I can fill,but the nights,the lonely nights,there have been so many, the tears...I have cried for too long. And I haven't danced for such a long,long time. I want to dance again....Oh, will somebody dance with me.

Dont wait for the last judgement,it takes place every day,

said Albert Camus. This is going to be my mantra for the rest of my life.Not a New Year's resolution,I have never made one.But life is so very short and I am going to live every day as if it was my last.I am going to learn how to use the internet efficiently, how to write the blog so that I get the most enjoyment out of it,I want to be able to interact with any-one who may care to read what I write.It would be wonderful to be able to do that.But it has to wait for a while longer, on my return home there are much more pressing matters going to need my full attention. Year 2015 is going to be a year of profound changes in my life. I would like to be able to share them with someone even though that someone I may never see. Have to laugh - when the young officer and his girl-friend joined us at the officers' coctail party I said jokingly- many people had booked camel ride on Lanzarote and were sorry to have missed it, but I bet the camels were relieved! The officer did not get the joke,it appeared to me he had already had a drink or two too many. He was swaying. Or was it the ship being wobbly?

I have been things and seen places,

said May West.I have never been things,I may have been called a thing or two, I have lived long enough to have earned it, but I have seen places.Today is the last formal night.I had on my favourite white River Island blouse,the black palazzo trousers I have alternated wearing with my new favourite very narrow a touch shiny pair,both from Marks.The palazzo trousers I have had for over four years, wear and wash like a dream, never have been ironed,pack any old how and always come out of the suitcase ready to wear.I had on a striking necklace-a crimson cotton ribbon interwoven with a golden chain,a fluffy matching crimson ball hanging down from the chain.I had bought it on my very first cruise in Madeira from a one woman owner/designer shop. Over the following two years I had bought there something every time I was on the island.Then a disaster struck.The shop had closed down. The ankle boots,black suede with a silver heel about 3 cm high I have worn every single night and several times during the day.The suede crimson clutch from Karen Millen, small and boxy, is adorable, as are the matching flat shoes I am yet to wear, very likely tomorrow. Dinner was fan-ta-bu-lous,every single morsel divine. Every cruise I take is measured by the quality of food. Tonight was perfection-foi gras with various bits and bobs,lobster, oh the lobster.Probably the best I have had in my entire life,cucumber salad utter perfection. Malcolm's waiter from Croatia made me a cappuccino with foam sitting proudly on the top,looking around as if to say-just see how glorious I am.And it was.Then off to the Officers' party I went, every-one already in the Queens room,late again,the story of my cruise! I looked around for a few minutes ready to take a quick exit, when someone tapped me on the shoulder.Pam and Malc.She looked even better standing up.Before we said Jack Robinson a couple had approached us,an officer and his girl-friend. The officers were the hosts, he had to mingle. At 8.30 started the show in the Court Theatre.The best show to date. And by the way, just as I thought,the Captain had a companion with him at the party,a lovely blonde, he was very attentive, but somehow they did not mesh together, she was almost a head taller than him and likes wearing heels.Not a good choice, if your companion is so much shorter.And the cleavage, my goodness, they looked like two big balloons, probably new and she was proud to show them to all and sundry. When he was standing next to her,his face was at their level. But he is a nice person and she seemed just as pleasant. With one more day to go on board and the end is here,it always comes so quickly. Last stop La Coruna. Has La Coruna changed for the better,you may ask. No,it has not. The port is just as unwelcoming - dirty, smelly. The surroundings of some of the restaurants have not seen a broom for weeks, cigarette butts strewn everywhere. How can anyone sit there and eat? But I found an utterly delightful coffee shop, the name of which escapes me, the waitresses didn't speak a word of English, but were adorable,served an excellent coffee and home-baked cakes to go-this I am going to have later tonight when I close the cabin door to the world for the last time.In another shop I bought a macaroon the likes of which I have not seen before-sheer perfection to look at and I know it will taste equally good. I have walked about 15000 steps today,8 km or thereabouts.This will not happen when I get home.

The Captain talks.

And very eloquently he talks,too.When asked about his private life, he made no mention of a wife,but no doubt he has a partner.I cannot imagine a man like him-amusing,witty,charming,pleasant,with a kind handsome face in a cuddly sort of way-to live alone,unless it is out of choice.Still,the sea life must put intolerable pressure on any relationship.The lonely nights have no boundaries. Just to touch someone,to hear someone breathe,to wake up with someone to the singing of the birds...After the talk an uneventful lunch and at 14.00 Pete's Christmas,a pleasant little film, short and sweet,exactly as I like them.Yes,on board of the QV there is a film every afternoon in the Royal Court Theatre,this is the first time I have been to see a film,I have been so busy doing other things, or just doing nothing as is often the best thing to do. Every cabin gets Daily Programme the night before for the coming day.It contains interesting little snippets of information and wisdom,e.g."Dacia Seamount is an underwater mount where the depths of water fall from 7000 metres to just 77 metres".Oh,and I have looked up the name of the 2 opera singers who performed the other evening-The Opera Boys, what else!I very much hope to see them again.I would like to hear again a classical concert pianist Hiro Takenouchi, who performed on the Queen Mary last month, and a Polish performer Kuba, who plays various instruments,quite awe inspiring. Catch him if you can. After the film I walked one hour on a treadmill until I walked up sweat,quick shower, quick dinner and down into the internet room. The evenings are best for writing, even though quite often some inconsiderate people do come in and talk loudly as if there was no-one else in the room.They are mature, elderly and should know better. There is someone called Michael Grant playing tonight in the Theatre,the name means nothing to me and may give his concert a miss, but at 9.15 there is my favourite music in the Chart room-jazz. Musicians are masters in their own craft,the best there can be.The Chart room is a lovely massive sitting room,luxurious, light,with comfortable armchairs and sofas, little tables with fresh flowers. Next to it is Corinthia cafe.It gives me no pleasure to say that the worst service I have ever had on a ship was several days ago in the Corinthia.Waited almost 35 minutes to be served.It did not bother me, was reading.In the end had asked a female waitress if it was a waitress service or if we needed to go to the bar, she said - waitress. I said I would like cappuccino, but would not pay for the service, because the service was non-existent. The girl went to the counter and about five minutes later a male waiter appeared with a tray,I repeated what I had said earlier - that I would pay for the coffee but not the service. He said I would have to pay for both, as it was the way it came out of the till. I said no, thank you. He threw the tray on the table - you can have the coffee anyway. How utterly unacceptable.He should have smiled and said - so sorry, my apology, please have the coffee as our compliment. This unprofessional behaviour has no place on any ship.There will be a questionnaire before the end of the voyage every guest will be asked to fill.I have an axe to grind with Cunard and grind the axe I will.

The wonderful,wonderful Christmas day 2014, on the Queen Victoria.

At ten in the morning there was an interdenominational festival of carols. The captain sang, his crew sang,the Cunard choir sang,the Royal Court Theatre chorus sang,every-one sang, except myself.I forgot my reading glasses and without them all I could do, was to hum. At 11 Santa came to the majestically embellished Queen's room.What a picture, what a morning for the children!Every-one of them got a present from Cunard and, of course many parents added their own. I truly never expected such a do. It was glorious,utterly enchanting, more so because it was so very unexpected. Thank you Cunard, thank you Queen Victoria, you have done yourself proud.I can't wait to be celebrating Christmas on board again. After super lunch of tomato soup,salmon ceviche (yes,I had two entrees, because I could not make up my mind, which one of them to settle for) and massive prawns, served with plain rice and macadamia nuts, spicy sauce the likes of I have never had before, and hope to have many times yet. Why no pudding, you may ask.For that I went upstairs. From the day I had set a foot on the ship I, have been looking forward to my first mince pie and Christmas cake.To date they both have eluded me, but the longed for moment was finally here. The cake looked scrumptious, but was difficult to pick up, it should have been a warning. The mince pie I couldn't decipher-it resembled a little pudding -a massive dollop of cream with some strange holy resplendent upon it. Is this a mince pie,I asked the lovely server behind the counter,incredulously.Yes madam. So on the plate it went.Never have I expected so much from so little on a plate, and got even less.The cake was too wet, too sloppy with too much crystalized fruit and too little substance.I took one bite, but couldn't soldier on.So far,so bad. I still had the mince pie.I do not know who the supplier of those horrible little anaemic pies was, but I hope they will either go out of business well before next Christmas, or Cunard gets the sense and finds someone who can bake! Disappointed and still smarting, I went to the Library.There is nothing not to like about the Queen Victoria, but the Library I love.In the middle of the ship,the most beautiful staircase joins two floors upon which this resplendent beauty is allocated.It is comfortable and well thought-out,the seats by the windows are the best idea of all.Perfection. I love spending time there,reading, or just listing through the English dictionary. Christmas dinner. Malcolm looked resplendent, smart suit, red bow tie and a matching kerchief,the shoes spick and span.Pamela's lovely, kind face, immaculately made up. With every passing day I like them more and more.I hate to be impinged upon.They never do.I hate the intrusion of incessant questions,of a nose being poked through the armour I have built about myself. They understand in their down to earth way.They always seem to say the right thing. We talk yet say nothing and it all is done in the most pleasant way both parties have found enjoyable.The waiters got their YSL after shave.I hope I chose well, it is new, delicately scented,pure class. I have been approached by 2 waiters, who remember me from the Queen Mary.Regretfully I do not recall having met either,they both seem very nice and charming, so we must have exchanged many pleasantries in the past.One of them came up to me and asked jokingly if he was also going to get a present.He had obviously noticed the lovely little bags I had handed to my waiters.I know every one of them deserves a present at least at Christmas. Dinner was lobster termidore,roast turkey and the works,cheesecake.All very workmanlike, not the best.

The most wonderful Christmas Eve 2014,on the Queen Victoria,The Captain sings,

and his deputy,and other members of the crew, and various staff members.And I sing, too.Quietly.Why quietly, you may ask.Well, let me answer this way:I dance as if I had three left feet.Take one foot off and you get a pretty good idea how I sing.We were given an absolutely splendid list of Christmas carols,I knew the melody of most of them ,but not the words.Next to me a gentleman singing his heart out to the embarrassment of this wife.I said to her - you can"t keep a good man quiet".They got the joke and laughed heartily.Mince pies were being handed out but none were left for me.Oh, how I would like to enjoy a lovely little mince pie!I said to the lady who stood on the other side of me-I only came on this cruise for the mince pies.Luckily for me,she also got the joke. Many times people do not understand my sense of humour and I get some funny looks. After the singalong there was a concert in The Royal Theater by two singers whose name I do not remember, nor do I remember their stage name.I expected very little from the performance, but got a lot. They are nice boys with surprisingly good voices,I hope I will hear them sing many times yet.Because once on the cruise ship circuit, they never get off it, even though many performers are good enough to make it in the big bad world, but often the world is just too big to make it big, so big on a ship can be just as big as small in the big world. Back in my cabin a wonderful surprise awaited me-a Wedgwood cup,compliments of Cunard.It was the most unexpected gesture,quite touching.I hope the three employees will be just as pleased to receive my present tomorrow.This Christmas is the first Christmas I am spending on a ship and I know not the last.Couple sitting at the table next to mine at dinner are planning to spend next Christmas on Queen Mary.I hope nothing will come into it,they are lovely people.Lets call them Malcolm and Pamela.He a small, wiry man,very thin with short spiky hair,looks good 60 but may be late 40, if he had spent his life working outdoor, a builder perhaps, or a scaffolder.Talks a lot and likes to hear his own loud voice,I smiled to myself when he said to the waiter-chocolate mousse? We never had it on the Queen Mary.He must have been on a different QM to me, because mousse is a staple pudding on all cruise ships and the QM is no exception! And no ship had more of them than The Independence and now the QV. People who love this sloppy pudding must be in their element. Pamela matches Malcolm to perfection,she answers just as loudly, flashing her knife about with some vigor in the most endearing way.They are perfectly turned out every evening.I have taken to them, as I have not taken to a stranger. The breaking point was when Malcolm declared himself to be an expert on cappuccino.And to his credit, the waiter makes him one no man would find a fault with - the froth sitting proudly, then Malc starts stirring the coffee, until some of the milk flies on his beautifully presented suit.It happens every evening.He jumps up, wipes himself with a serviette,sits down again,his wife nattering away.They are lovely,made for each other,salt of the earth,the backbone of the country.If only England had more people like them, every ship would be a happier place.Because I have said it before and I will say it again - there is no buffoon like an English buffoon. And every ship has them aplenty.

Christmas Eve on The Queen Victoria.The captain misses the boat,

so to speak.The itinerary was Lanzarote.The sea was choppy, the pilot advised against trying to sit this beautiful elephant into the dock,as there were already two massive cruisers in the port,this did not leaven our captain,Mr Philpott, enough room to manoeuvre,so there was a commiserative speech over the loud speaker regretting we were setting off slooooowly for La Coruna.Many guests grumbled the captain didn't make enough effort to dock, but I think the right decision was made.Even though it left me in the lurch - I had planned to get little gifts to hand out to all who would serve me on Christmas day.Luckily in Tenerife I had purchased YSL after- shave for my two waiters and for the cabin cleaner.But I have no wrapping paper.The paper in the book shop is ugly, so I would much rather hand the gifts as they are. Lanzarote is a very plain island, barren, low ,ugly buildings. I believe no high hotels have been allowed to be erected there,more is the pity,I think they would only improve the vista.Mr Cameron had spent a family holiday on the island last year or was it the year before? Whoever had advised him to bring his children to this nothing place is not on his Christmas cards list anymore,I am sure. There really is nothing to see on Lanzarote, It beats me, why on earth would anyone want to fly here for four hours willingly and pay for the privilege. Some guests had planned to ride on the camels.Poor animals, they do not know how lucky they are to be spared the massive backsides of the English. So we are heading off for the town of La Coruna. It has the ugliest, dirtiest,smelliest port I have ever had the misfortune to find myself in at least four times on the various cruises.The buildings are dark, plain, urinated on by the sailors serviced by the night-workers,the walkways by the port are often covered by condoms.The first time I was in La Coruna in November 2010 on my very first cruise, I was so utterly disgusted by the stench and dirt, I expressed my views in the survey I was asked to fill in at the end of the cruise, as is the custom. Every month the ships bring thousands of people ,the amount of money the tourists spend in the shops is ginormous,but the Spaniards do not even have the decency to clean up at least that part of the town, where the travelers have no choice in being. By the way,those who are wondering why on earth am I talking about a PILOT on a ship,this PILOT navigates the big ships in and out of ports.No large vessel is ever allowed into a port unless it has a PILOT at the helm,as he has the knowledge of the local waters no captain possesses.

The formal nights.

These are the nights when you put on your finery,when the elegant stand out from the humdrum. Not that there should be any great difference between tho two groups. The shops are overflowing with good quality and reasonably priced clothes,they have stylists to help the unsure and ungainly.So why is this ship full of women wearing throwbacks to the era of Dynasty? Padded shoulders. misshapen tunics and skirts the English language is yet to find a word for. There was a woman the other evening having a formal photo taken,standing next to her partner,the photographer arranging the dress this way and that way,but nothing was right,the dress looked strange and the woman's posture didn't do it any justice,neither did her sandals, more suitable for the beach.Yet at close look the dress was lovely,black, almost ankle length,off the shoulders,but on that self-conscious woman it looked like a sack.To my bewilderment the woman was not carrying a handbag. On a five star ship without an evening bag. The best dressed women on the ships are the  Japanese-simple,elegant,suitably suited and booted for every occasion,as are the Japanese men.You never see them wearing the same outfit twice.I think it is because they are small in stature,so their clothes are small and they can pack much more than an average western person can.And they behave impeccably.Many years ago I read somewhere, that before going abroad they are instructed to behave so as not to disgrace their country.It may or may not be true [I personally think it is],but one thing is certain-many rude,obnoxious Europeans could learn a thing or two from them.Now and then a miracle happens,like today, a man, no, not a man, a GOD, walked by wearing white immaculate trousers,white short sleeved shirt,it had a pattern at the front, quite unnecessary,but the shirt was snow white,ironed to perfection,he had on pale blue suede shoes, was clean shaven,grey hair neat and obviously recently washed and cut.I looked at him in wonderment - was he real or just a figment of my imagination? And then there was the moment the two gentlemen I had seen on the Independence  of the Seas walked into the dining room on the first formal evening, and they took my breath away-dark, elegant suites,shoes shining brightly, The first impression  really is the most important impression.

Sunday, 21st December 2014,Madeira.

Madeira is a Portuguese archipelago,have been here several times and it is my favourite island in his part of the world. In a little square behind a big church in the middle of Funchal, there was a boutique, where I had bought some lovely original pieces of jewellery.The lady who had owned the shop designed everything she sold-bags, shoes,clothes, scarves and my favourite of all-adorable rings the likes of which I haven't come across anywhere else, and the price,well,very,very affordable. Two years ago, after the ship had docked, I took the long 2 km walk straight to the shop. But the shop had closed down. Next door there was a lovely coffee shop, the cakes - oh so inviting! But they were full. I walked around the town and returned to see if a small table became available, but it had not. I returned to the ship. The road was blocked to traffic,there were masses of people waiting for Ronaldo,there was a statue waiting to be unveiled by him. Ronaldo ,the footballer, was born on Madeira. Lunch was good, but unremarkable,cauliflower and spinach soup,wild mushroom risotto. Took a lift up to the 9th floor to see if there were some mince pies,not yet,had some trifle,it was delicious. After some rest in the room on the gloriously comfortable bed I went to the gym and walked on a treadmill for 20 min,sat on the rowing machine for 15 and pulled some weights for 10. It is 8 in the evening and so far I have walked 18409 steps,yes, about 9km.I love walking.I love dancing. I dance in my room.I close my eyes and let the music do its magic. I have two left feet,but I dance! I move to the beat and as long as I am left to do my own thing and am not expected to follow in someone"s footsteps, I am happy. On the Independence my sister and I went to line dance classes. Everyone turned left, I turned right, they turned right, I was on the left,they went forward and I was.. where was I? The instructor's eyes transfixed to my feet,twice he lost the count,I could see his agony. My sister looked at me in horror, her face with me to leave the dance floor. But I was in my own world. I realized following any instructions was futile, it just was not going to happen. I closed my eyes and turned round and round and round. My sister whispered in my ear-if anyone asks me if we are together, I will say I do not know you! I was happy with that.I was dancing. I was in heaven. The next day I met the instructor in the lift.Our eyes met.He looked at me, opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. He appeared to be in pain.I gave him a big smile and pressed the button for the lift to stop.

Miracles do happen.

I did not put on any weight on the Independence,nor did I put on weight on The Queen Mary. And I had indulged, I had indulged! But I walked on a treadmill every day,the rowing machine became my friend for 15-20 minutes on regular basis and at times I even pulled the resistance bands. And, of course, weather permitting, I walked outside. That is always pure joy. Nowhere in the world is the air as clean as at sea. And to breathe it in is a must for me. I never run.I walk.I may not always walk fast, but walk I do. To my shame I do not even run to catch a bus, I would much rather wait for another, or at the last moment may decide to walk if my destination is within a walking distance. On the ship I walk up the stairs and try to take a lift when going down,the knees suffer less. It is 4 pm,am going to change and off to the gym. Dinner at 6.00,an early sitting. There must be some order in feeding well over 2000 of us,even though it seems a mission impossible at times.

Are the Englishmen born with their socks on?

If there is a sight to behold, it is the sock clad feet of an Englishman.There is nothing quite like it.One day someone may write a book about the horrors of the wiggling toes. It is enough to send a chill up my spine when I recall what I see when the socks come off. The callouses,the hard skin on the heels,the toe-nails that had not seen the scissors for months. Don't the Englishmen know what pedicure is?  Very rarely do I see on an Englishman shiny, polished shoes. I would not let my husband out of the house unless he could see his face in the reflection of his shoes. It was not always so,but he had learnt and the time came when he took pride in the way he looked. And he looked good.I was proud of him. He was proud of me. That is the way it was. I always say never judge a sausage by the skin. But it is impossible not to judge a man by his clothes.If a man takes pride in the way he looks, he feels so much better about himself, is more confident. It is Friday 19 December 2014.And I am on the Queen Victoria, sitting at a desk by the window in the library,we are sailing to Madeira.12 nights of bliss. Christmas on Canary Islands. To this cruise I will yet return. All I will say for now is,that the start was inconspicuous - I was sea-sick,the second time ever. But I got me a small table just for 2,they are much sought after and rarely available. Everyone wants them, there are only few to be allocated. But I got one, nothing can spoil this holiday now. The enjoyment of lovely food in my own company is all I ask for. I love food. The success of any cruise I take is measured by the quality of the food on board.

Can food be better than sex?

What was first - the chicken, or the egg? This is the question the masses have been seeking an unequivocal answer to since  the time immemorial, and will be arguing over until the midst of time. About 4 years ago I had in Ottolenghi,a delicatessen in London, the best cheesecake ever - and I had had some wonderful cheesecakes in my life - this one was still slightly warm, fresh out of the oven, 4"deep, covered with the sweetest strawberries. I couldn't resist taking a bite there and then."This is better than sex"I exclaimed quite involuntarily to the startled server!" "I am not sure about that" he replied and rolled with laughter. Oh, the ignorance of youth! On the Eastbound Transatlantic Crossing 19 -26 November 2014 the food on The Queen Mary was the best I had ever had on a ship.Ever. Oh,I had my very fist and absolutely delicious hot dog on The Celebrity Eclipse when we sailed to St.Petersburg, there were the sandwiches I could write an ode about on The Independence in March 2011, I indulged in some culinary marvels on an Oceania six star ship in September last,but no-one,absolutely no-one can touch The Queen Mary on this Crossing. Every single meal a perfection, be it in the self-service restaurant on the 7th floor,or in the waiter serviced Britannia restaurant. Fillet steak melted in the mouth,lobster soft and mouthwatering needing nothing more than a squeeze of lemon,venison, oh the venison! Can food ever be better than sex? Can it!!! Sex can be heaven on earth.But it takes two...Heavenly food, if prepared for you by the best of the best, served to you by the nicest of the nicest, in surroundings sparkling and glossy, where you are fussed over,smiled at, your napkin is laid into your lap,water poured into a spotless glass,  around you happy, content faces...Is there anything more a mere mortal can wish for? The sublime pleasure of taste and smell nothing else can equal. After an exquisite meal the world somehow seems a much happier,much more beautiful place.