Thursday 3 December 2015.

The five days in the Caribbean were mostly wonderful. Benjamin Makisi,an excellent singer, whom I had the pleasure to listen to several nights ago,I had heard I think,on Azura,in Sept.Then an American Olympic gymnast Lance Ringwald, took my breath away,considering he is 45.He has to" make a living to support his family".Superb. Lorraine Brown,an English perfectly good singer, bored me to death with her choice of songs.We are not at a wake, we are on a holiday,for goodness'sake. Had I not been sitting in the middle of a row,I would have walked out half way through her performance.Then there were the Flyrights,3 South London boys.Or should I say Flywrongs. Sorry, boys,couldn't help myself.How should I describe your performance?[Have heard it once before, again on Azura) What you lack in singing, you make up in enthusiasm,or,to put it differently-never mind the quality, feel the width.I remember years ago when I was a student at a University, I used to go with my good friend Laurin to concerts,usually of his choosing.Once there was a performance at the Royal Festival Hall,a group of dancers was giving a farewell performance to the oldest member who had just turned 70,he,in fact participated in one dance and it was quite painful to watch. He was so hard trying to keep up, but every step of the way he was one step behind. Every-one should know when to say yey and when to say ney.Flyrights remind me of this performance-trying hard to be good,but are never quite good enough.One of them asked the audience if, as we were in the Carib,we had any jerk chicken.Well,having encountered so many living, breathing jerks on this ship,I certainly do not want any on my plate!Yesterday at lunch met ancient, but still very beautiful, well turned out and charming, Londoner,Sheila,widow for 20 years.She said never had she met as many badly behaved buffoons as on this trip.I agreed.Everything in small doses is acceptable and palatable, the odd badly-mannered person gets easily lost in the sea of people in the know. But if time and time again you get shoved and you do not hear the word sorry,if people sit down next to you at a table and do not have the good manners to say good morning or whatever is appropriate,then this is a very sad reflection on the quality,the education of society.Sheila commented many British men were accompanied by much younger Filipino girls.I did notice.Ca me fait mal au Coeur de voir how badly these ugly men,in a need of a decent hair cut and a shave,with big bellies barely encompassed by the ill fitting shirts,speak to their partners.Several days ago in a dining room I was seated next to such a couple.She had Oriental features, may not have been a Filipino,kind face,but sad eyes,I smiled at her,her mouth smiled back but the eyes were dead.He had thin pinched lips,they hardly moved, when he barked at her throughout the meal.No man who respects or loves his woman could behave in such a deplorable way.My husband would tell with such pride to any-one who would care or even wouldn't care to listen-this is my wife.When the illness that eventually took his life took over his brain, there were so many things he could not remember, but until almost the very end he remembered that I was his wife and that he loved me very much.Sheila said she had never met a man she wanted to get involved with since her husband's passing.Is this my destiny? A widow is like a withering twig.If,now and then,it gets watered and composted,it perks up a little,but it never quite recovers,it never blooms again.Not until she loves again and is loved in return.