Almost a final word

It could have been,should have been, would have been a super duper cruise.If only.If only I was not told in Southampton when being checked in that the cabin 5194 I had paid for had been changed to 5131.No explanation whatsoever.Once on board I went to the purser's office to seek some clarity on the matter.None was offered and 8 days later I left the ship none the wiser.The disappointment was put on hold when the first evening in the Britannia restaurant I was given a table 304 just to myself,It was the worst table-end of a dark kind of elevated runway,not much of a view-and the best table-far away from any inquisition.Then the night came and slowly it began to dawn on me that not only had I the worst table,but I also had the worst cabin.Sitting above an engine room,the strangest of noises came from the bowels of the ship and the metal frame of the balcony multiplying any sound.The banging,the clanging,the heaving,the sighing.After several days on board I wanted to purchase more internet minutes.My account was blocked.How can it be,I asked a female server in the purser's office,there are some dollars left from the amount I had deposited into the account plus the $195 credit given to me by Cunard when I had made the booking that has not been touched.Because you are paying cash,you must register a card to benefit.What?!First they do not give me the cabin I had paid for,then they do not give me the credit that was a part of the booking contract,without any conditions being attached.The behaviour of Cunard has been shameful and has left a nasty taste in my mouth.

The food on the Quen Mary

There were many times when I thought yes,another wonderful starter or a main dish like this and the food may equal that of Oceana [P&O ship],but then another inedible mess landed on my table that had been given a fancy name but no taste and I thought why,oh why can't they get the desserts right?Yes, as on the Queen Victoria, the cakes and all things sweet let the Cunard down[On the Queen Elizabeth there is nothing right about either food or the hygiene]so in spite of some truly wonderful meals I still have to say - nobody does it better than Oceana.On the first formal evening [all the finery goes on and the ladies truly go to town as on no other ship] there was crabmeat&shrimp gateau with cucumber and sour cream to start,then rostaed red ppper and tomato soup,salmon and wild mushroom Wellington,spinach,baby corn,boiled potatoes,artichoke and tarragon beurre blanc and the meal was concluded with iced grand marnier parfait with orange sauce washed down with cranberry tea,I had some very expensive [$16 a glass]not very good wine,but I am not a wine drinker and cannot tell what is good or bad,just whether I like the taste.Another night cod viennoise was superb,served with turned potatoes and champagne beurre blanc.I asked the waiter which way was it turned,left or right,not getting the gest, he started explaining the origins,German,I think, of this style of cooking,but my look said it all and he realized I was joking and burst out laughing.Tempura prawns with radish slaw ,sweet chilli sauce and garlic mayo were the best of the best and I would have happily had them as a starter every evening.Veal scaloppine permigiano,polenta,griddled courgette,mushroom beurre noisette was divine,then there were provencal frogs legs,I had them fried in breadcrumbs on another ship, they were quite big, like legs of an anaemic chicken and they were truly delicious as were these served on the QM.When one evening crepes suzette were on the menu I though hip,hip hooray,finally a dessert to my simple taste,but it was very unmemorable as was the apple strudle served twice.Once would have been once too often.But I had learnt what chicken quesadilla is [wrapped in tortilla Mexican style] or chimichanga [ a tortilla rolled around a savoury filling and deep fried].The last evening a lime something was brought to me by mistake,should have been cherry something.I took one bite and my heart sank.What have I done to deserve this dessert, I thought.I could not even face my favourite pot of cranberry tea,said good bye to the lovely waiters, shook hands, gave them thank you banknotes and left.

Bergen

will go down in history as the city where I got lost.And the city where there is not a decent coffee shop.I got lost looking for the elusive cup of coffee.I had walked the main streets,I had walked the side streets,I had trodded up and down both sides of the Fisketorget [ Fish Market ].Nothing.Zilch.Zero.Bergen, once the capital of Norway and now the second largest city of the country,has a lot going for it.After all, the tourist board describes it as the "gateway to the fjords" and the gateway it undoubtedly is but a culinary centre of the region it ain't.The history of the city is riveting.Olav Kyrre,"The Peaceful" founded a settlement in 1070 calld Bjorgvin-"The pasture between the mountains".It had expanded rapidly,German Honseatic League had built a trading factory there in 1343,in fact the Honseatic museum is my favourite museum,it is a recreation of living in medieval times,quite dark and oppressive yet wonderfully authentic.Over the coming centuries in spit of the Restoration and numerous fires the city has flourished and established itself as one of the leading centres of culture in Scandinavia.The composer Edward Grieg was born in Bergen.The city is blessed with the most glorious setting."The pasture between the mountains" it truly is.Even queuing for the funicular ride is exciting.The loveliest building to look at from the outside is by The Fish Market,it houses Starbucks.It just does not make sense to me.But then nothing makes sense in this haphazardly put together city,yet everything makes sense.But I still got lost!I asked a heavily painted lady which way was my way and after 10 minutes of walking I came to realize it was the wrong way.I asked again a young boy who surprisingly spoke bad English[I had read it once that if grammatically correct English is heard in London,it is spoken by a Scandinavian],but after a few gestures,nods and smiles in no time was I being shuttled back to the ship.Once on board I came to a conclusion that I may come to love many things about Norway and its people but a good cup of coffee will not be among them.

And then there was Flaam,

a small farming community of 350,nestled at the very end of Aurlandsfjord,a tributary of the worlds deepest and at 115 miles longest fjord,Sognefjord.The largest farm,Fretheim,has been handed down from father to son since 1500.The village wooden church [said to be Norway's oldest] dates to 1667.But what Flaam is really famous for is the railway.I have not yet been successful to ride on this technological marvel.When I booked the cruise 3 or so weeks prior to departure,no tickets were available.And that was the case when I took the same cruise with my sister and her husband 4 years ago.There is also an absolutely unmissable "bakeri",[bakery to you and me] where the most delicious pastries can be bought.Flaam,small as it is,has souvenir shops aplenty,there is a railway museum and a factory outlet selling mostly warm clothing.This time I gave a miss to them all.Neither did I drink AKEVITT,the national beverage served in a small glass or tasted their flat bread lefske,nor purchased gravet lax,the cured salmon.But I walked and when I thought my legs could carry me any further, I walked some more.The scenery,oh the scenery.The further from the settlement you go, the more the mountains appear to be ascending from the sea almost vertically.From a distance the tiny village thwarted by the mighty ship.If all the houses on Flaam were placed on the Queen Mary,there would still be some room left.And the weather was glorious.

"Scenic splendour sets the tone in this enchanting port of call,

idyllically set at the top of the innermost arm of Nordsfjord",says the ship's guide to Olden.Dress it up as you may, once you have seen one mountain with one waterfall running down one rock,you have seen them all.And when the fog envelopes you and the rain comes down as if there was no tomorrow,jazz it up as you will, nothing washes.And yet-the continuous panoramas become overwhelming in one enchanting wonderment.Mountains come to the water's edge of both sides of the fjord,the odd house clinging for dear life to the rocks.And from a distance you cannot make out a road needed to live in the dwelling and you ask yourself-how do they survive in the depths of winter?Only the closest of relationships can endure and it must be closeness out of choice.Olden,1000 inhabitants,makes up with other small settlements the township of Stryn with a total population of 6850.We docked at Olden at the strangest of times-5pm.It was spitting then,several hours later it began to rain hard and the following day it was pouring mercilessly.No respite.I went for a long,long walk.It seemed even longer than it actually was.

If Stavanger was a woman,one would pass by without giving it a second look

It used to be a canning and fishing city until last century when an oil discovery put paid to that,now it is the petroleum capital of Norway.If the world petroleum implies anything it first an foremost implies money.Lots of money.But looking around Stavanger you can't help but ask yourself - where does the money go?It is certainly not spent on this town.Several years ago, I think, four,my sister,her husband and myself took this same cruise on the QM,I remember a particular house [ clearly seen from the ship], scruffy,badly kept and in need of TLC and four years hence nothing has changed, only the house got uglier and scruffier.When in Stavanger the first time,I went on a tour to the 25 miles long Lysefjord and the Pulpit Rock.The Pulpit Rock [Preikestolen in Norwegian] is a rock formation which protrudes vertically from the mountainside and has become the only outstanding tourist attraction of the city,be it an accidental one, there is also a canning museum and a maritime museum.The almost solitary coffee shop Vaaland Dampbakeri & Conditori had dirty tables,each and every one of them,the croissant massive but of a strange shiny colour and the dough lumpy and heavy,the only almost redeeming feature was the latte,not the best,but palatable.The bakeri [bakery to you and me] had no WC,but the patrons are allowed to use the immaculately kept toilets in the Myhregaarden hotel next door,with the most delightful receptionist.There were numerous shops full of the Scandinavian exquisite furnishings one could die for,yet the architecture of the city was so disappointing.As if the Norwegians cared more for what is inside their home and not how their homes look on the outside.And maybe this is the way it should be.

I have found my little piece of paradise on the Queen Mary,

A swirling small plush chair with a high back next to the window in the long passage on the way to Illuminations.Illuminations is a theatre on the 3rd floor where the lectures take place and films are played.I went to see the Beauty and the Beast yesterday and as I had half an hour to spare,could not resist sitting down on one of the chairs.And it was heaven. I have walked down the corridor many a time, have looked at the chairs and through the windows,but never sat down.This is he place to be when you want to get away from it all.And when the sun shines and the scenery is out of this world there is no place like this unassuming passage on the side of this magnificent vessel. The film,watchable,but the unmemorable songs were a disappointment.And altogether a strange concoction of a story and action made it a mixed bag.Maybe seeing it again would make it grow on one,maybe it is one of those films you need to see twice to appreciate the ingenuity of it all and disregard the shortcomings.But at 128 minutes or so... The film was watched thorough 3D glasses and the 3D system is the first system of this kind at sea.I,for one,cannot see what the fuss is all about and preferred to watch the film without the glasses. Mr John Martin,a British comedian,world record holder for non-stop joke telling[101 hours and 39 minutes ]gave us our money's worth,so to speak,and was at times brilliantly funny,at times unpleasantly rude and at times not funny at all.I certainly was not expecting him to say,that Mr Jeremy Corbyn[British Labour leader] hopes one day to be the British Prime Minister.And one day will be quite enough,concluded the comedian.Funny,Mr Martin,very funny.

This morning at breakfast a very pleasant American male voice could be heard.

I cannot say it was the voice of a man who likes listening to himself,but I can say it was the voice of a man used to being listened to.He talked incessantly,I could hear no-one responding.Only when leaving the dining room could I see him, a man of about 70 and his companion, a Chinese looking lady of about 30.Has Mr Murdoch set a precedent?

My Toshiba chromebook has given up the ghost,

it has departed into the cyberspace.Why has this tragedy befallen upon me,I have asked myself a thousand times.Have I not shown her enough love?Have I not polished every inch of her,keeping her in the pristine condition she so richly deserves?Have I not carried her close to my heart?I have treasured her as a dear friend she has become and now she deserts me in my greatest hour of need,I was born with the infinite patience gene,in fact patience could be my middle name.but waiting for the biopsy appointment the past weeks has been hard,the weeks have gone at a snail's pace.Knowing the heartbreaking Grenfell fire where 80 people had perished had played havoc with any local hospital's appointments [and mine is a local hospital]as the needs of the survivors must be a priority,I had looked for a cruise to kind of take my mind off the "good" cancer I am carrying.Scandinavia and Russia would have been my first choice had the cruise been shorter than the 14 nights Celebrity Eclipse is offering,but under the circumstances I had settled for the Queen Mary Norwegian Fjords 13-21 July.On 12 July I had received a letter from the hospital - my biopsy appointment had been scheduled for July 21st ,10.10 in the morning.The ship docks in Southampton at 6 am,disembarkation begins just before 7.30,a taxi to the train,train to London, tube to the hospital.With the suitcase.Will luck be on my side?Will I make the appointment?

The Queen Mary,cabin 5131,8 night cruise to Norwegian fjords

Did the same cruise with my sister and her husband 3 years ago,or was it 4.The same ship, the same itinerary. All went smoothly,had lots of fun and a lovely time.When two weeks ago I felt I so very,very much wanted to get away for a few days, a short cruise sprang to mind.So here I am.So far so on the one hand wonderful, yet on the other nothing goes according to plan.When being checked in was told casually the cabin I had paid for had been changed,the same floor,5th,but the other side.As getting on the ship was a breeze,having come at the end tail of checking in,here was absolutely no waiting,so in no time was I in my small,but perfectly formed room. A bottle of champagne was waiting for me,it would not be opened on the ship,may take it home.There was a little card that said - table 236,second seating at 8.30.When I checked had learnt it was for 6.Well, not for me. Am hoping to get a little one just for myself,if not,then it would be the self-service in the evenings.Was there earlier,it is nicely spruced up and even if I had to dine there 8 nights,is not the end of the world.The internet room is lovely on the ship,but the noise! The ever so helpful Canadian,or is he American,ex schoolteacher, has tonsils of an elephant and must be heard on the other side of the ship!

Our latest addition to the family

now just over two years old, is expecting a sister in September.As the parents had waited for him for 8 years,the news of Sofia's conception came as a surprise of gargantuan proportions.Little Boris cannot wait for her arrival and would often stroke his mum's belly saying Sofia.Yesterday in a supermarket there was quite a large lady in the queue just before him and his dad,Boris went up to the lady, stroke her belly and said Sofia.The lady understood the name but not realizing the meaning, turned puzzled to my nephew,he, always blunt and to the point, said - he thinks you are pregnant and are carrying a baby Sofia,like his mum. The lady burst out laughing, picked up a lolly,handed it to the little boy and said-for a long time I have been making excuses to start a diet,no more excuses,thank you little boy.Boris had birthday a month or so earlier and with every present came a kiss and from adults jokingly a shake of the hand.Thinking the lady was also giving him a birthday present,he took her hand and shook it and expecting a kiss that was not forthcoming, he said to her - and a kiss?

If it is right,as the Ormond Street hospital claims,

for the life support of Charlie Gard to be withdrawn,why does it feel so wrong?