Good morning my little friend.

There has been so little time to sit with you since Ventura.There is always the post to sort out before anything else when I return from my travels. The past six months or so I have been away so often,that many letters are opened,but remain sitting in a pile waiting to be dealt with appropriately and filed,if they do not require immediate attention.And when I decided to go and visit my sister on 28th April,I made a conscious effort to get all the paperwork in order before leaving. This time it was easy to do, because the weather was perfect for staying in.I do not mind the rain, the wind, the cold,but there are times when there really is no place like the warmth of one's home. But it took hours and hours,and when I wanted to unwind,instead of writing the blog[this always relaxes me as it is a joy and never a chore], I re-read all my blog entries and tried to kind of correct the typing errors and spelling mistakes,and my goodness,there is so much to correct,because it is one thing typing in a public place and something completely different doing it at home. So it has left me with little time to post new entries.

"Merry or not,widows are healthier without a husband",

A study,carried out by The University of Padua Italy, followed 733 Italian men and 1,154 women for four and a half years. It had come to a conclusion,that marriage may be good for men,but not so good for their wives. Widows were about 23 per cent less likely to be frail,than married women. If a woman outlives her husband,it is apparently often because he was ill and she had nursed him till his death.Then,the burden gone, she thrives.                                                   A man is not so lucky,having usually had everything done for him throughout the marriage,he is often helpless, when the wife passes away before him. Death of one partner in a marriage can bring quite a relief to the other person, if the relationship is not happy.                                               Long time ago my husband and I had employed a carpenter,whom we trusted implicitly,if anything needed to be done, he would do it in our absence and he would also water the plants,take care of the mail,etc. One evening the door-bell rang,I opened the door, a large smiling lady was standing there - I am Mrs B...,my husband has passed away,I think these are yours,she said and handed me a bunch of keys. Yes,they are. And I am so very,very sorry for your loss,we would very much like to come and pay our respects and attend the funeral. Oh,he died three weeks ago,she replied, We only had a small family gathering,that is the way he would have wanted it. My husband, having just showered,quickly dressed and ran out,wanting to catch up with her and express his condolences. Several minutes later he was back. I didn't say anything to her,she was with a man,holding hands,he said. We knew then that the man who had always appeared so jolly, was very likely in an unhappy relationship. And he never let on. But neither my husband nor I had thought the behaviour of his wife was unseemly and she should be grieving if her love for him was gone, and it so very obviously was.

Why do I do it?

Why do I have my hair cut in a foreign land, whose language I do not speak? I hate going to a hairdresser. So when I do make an appointment, it is either when the fringe absolutely has to be shaped by a professional, myself having trimmed the life out of it,or when I decide to have a complete make-over. VIGO,SPAIN, three or so years ago. There I am on a perfectly lovely sunny day, looking for a coffee and a cake shop, when my eyes take me to a large window,through which a hive of activity attracts my attention- women's hair being washed, dyed, cut, dried under a hood. My lucky day,just when I am in the mood, I thought,and in I went .A receptionist approached me,I explained in English I wanted just a little trim of the fringe and to have 5 or so cm taken off the length of the hair. She gave m a big smile,answered in Spanish and beckoned to a large lady, whom I took to be the manageress or the owner.The formidable matron pointed to a chair, I sat down. Without a moment's hesitation she took a pair of scissors and made the first cut. Just like that.My hair was not brushed, it was not pinned up,it was not wet. I could either get up and leave with the hair missing a bit on one side, or remain seated and let her finish the cull. After 10 minutes her masterpiece complete I was presented with the bill, 25 euros.I paid,then turned round and asked aloud, if there was any-one, who spoke English.A young boy said I do,beaming. Would you, please, tell her that never in my life have I had a hairdresser cut my hair so badly. She has no idea what she is doing and should be on a farm sheering sheep, there would be no-one to touch her. Between fits of laughter he said- Mama,madame says [that much Spanish I understood] and translated for all to hear, I presume my every single word just as I had said it. LISBON,Portugal,three or so weeks ago. When you leave a ship, you can either walk to the right, or to the left,or up the hill. I decided to climb. There I am on a perfectly lovely sunny day, looking for a coffee and a cake shop,when my eyes take me to a large window...I explained in English I wanted just a little trim of the fringe... She replied in Portuguese... But she had two certificates on the wall, TWO, for cry now loud! Or did she try to tell me she trims poodles?

1 March , 2016.

Am spending five relaxing nights at The Thermia Palace Hotel,Piestany,Slovakia.Two or so years ago a well respected New York newspaper,The New York Times,I think,published a list of ten best places in the world to lose weight. The Thermia Palace ,to my disbelief, was in the seventh place.My most favourite spa in the whole wide world the seventh best place to lose weight,cant be,judging by the most wonderful feasts they serve! I go there to indulge,not to dispose of the extra pound or three. Arrived yesterday late morning,immaculate room with a massive TV set and a bed oh so beckoning. But no,the first thing you must always do when you come here,is to get your time plan,the schedule of procedures you will enjoy during your stay. Having been here many times already, I know what I like and enjoy the most, so it is easy for me to add extra treatments.To a newcomer I would advise-wait until you have tried something, and if you like it,ask for more. Here you must forget your inhibitions. My very good friend has never had a massage in her life and adamantly refuses to disrobe in front of a strange person, unless it is a doctor or a nurse.No amount of persuading would make her change her mind. And she is a university graduate. So what is it that makes me come here time and time again? Where do I start? The hotel is a beautifully renovated,art-nouveau gem ,built in 1912,as the brochure says. It is 5-star establishment. The food is second to none,the breakfast one of the TWO best I have ever had -the second in a hotel Bauer in Venice,where I had croissants that no-one else has bettered and this gives Bauer a slight edge,because I LOVE croissants. But do not expect any fancy footwork as far as the food is concerned,at The Thermia.No embellishments on your plate,no tiny morsels you need a magnifying glass to find,or sauces you do not know the name of. You get superbly prepared meals from the best ingredients. The Thermia is immaculate,every nook and cranny spotless.This is the only hotel, where I do not clean the drawers with a wet tissue before unpacking,everywhere else,including every ship I have been on, I clean before absolutely anything goes in. The treatments are superlative. This five night stay offers 8 procedures. The cost-680 euros. I am paying for 4 nights, the fifth night is gratis. A super duper deal. I have already been pampered and my body feels relaxed, skin soft.

Ludka goes dancing.

When on board of the Independence of the Seas in March 2011 with my sister, we attended line dance classes.It started well.My gay instructor in his ever so tight pants pranced around full of enthusiasm and so did I.Step left,step right.Easy peasy.Step forward,step backwards.Why not.Now lets combine all steps in one sequence.What?! And it was going so well.The sequence was danced.They went left,I went right,step forward,no, wait,my feet thought otherwise.My sister is a lovely dancer. My family is a family of lovely movers.My dear brother, now deceased, light as a feather on his feet,could have been a professional, when he took you in his arms you were floating.The girls loved him, he was also the kindest man and very handsome.Cancer took him away from us. My sister's side glances and smile disappeared alongside my rhythm,her face firmly fixed ahead.The look of horror on the instructor's face-what is she doing,this cannot be happening to me,why cant she follow what every-one on the dance floor is doing?What is she dancing? Transfixed to my feet he missed a step. With abandon I gave myself to music and danced, danced, danced,turning one way,then the other way,hands in the air.I could have danced all day, but the lesson flew by.My sister barely containing herself burst out laughing and was still in fits when we got back to our stateroom.You certainly made an impression on the instructor,she said,I hope you can sleep well tonight, he wont.What do you mean,I asked indignantly,I am a good dancer.He kept looking at me,I am sure it was because he liked what I was doing,maybe he wants to learn my moves and teach them to others.She gave me a long,long look.I felt quite insulted. Well,if any-one asks you if you know me,feel free to say you have never met me before,I wont mind,I said cheerfully,still feeling elated. But truth be said, I have never tried to learn any dance since.I think my dancing is too good for this world.We have all heard about some people having two left feet.Clarkes,one of my favourite shoe-shops,have a closely kept secret-a back room full of shoes for left feet only.I went in there once,a treasure trove reserved for the chosen ones.But they could not provide me with dancing shoes.Because I have, what is known in the dancing world,"three left feet".No-one knows where the third foot comes from,no-one knows where it goes,it appears out of nowhere,and disappears just as fast.I feel very privileged.And it has never stopped me from dancing.I sway to the sound of Abba,Paolo Nuttini,Santana and my most favourite of all, Dean Martin.Dancing is wonderful!

The Silver Cloud, Warnemunde, Scandinavia, Russia.

One lunchtime I was seated next to a couple,mid 90's,as I learnt later.He was unsmiling,morose,grumpy,hawkish face with a hawkish nose.She was tiny,friendly,lived in face, once very beautiful,kind eyes,ready smile.He hobbled away on a stick with a passing shot-don't be long. She didn't answer, but turned towards me-I have seen you often,always alone.I know you are alone because you want to be,not because you have to be,would you mind if I talk to you...No,not at all,I would like that very much...Why are you alone, what happened? her kind eyes quizzically taking the measure of mine...I am a widow...I thought so, no man in his right mind would want to divorce you, unless of course, you were unhappy in a marriage.How long?...Five and a half years...Too long to be alone.Have you not found any-one you could love again?...I don't know,I have been asked out many times but I always have million excuses why to say no and never a good reason to say yes...You are a lovely person...I smiled feeling quite embarrassed...You don't think so,but you are.Even my husband said you are lovely and have lovely feet and he never says that about any-one.When you smile your face lights up and your eyes smile,you have Spanish eyes,are you Spanish?No,you look  French with a bit of Italian in your background,she continued without respite wanting to say so much and having so very little time.It is terrible to be alone when you are old,don't close your heart, let someone in...I think I want too much.I want everything or nothing.There cannot be greater loneliness than that in an empty marriage... She stared at me, her eyes swelling up with tears...You are very wise, Are you a writer?... No...You should write,you are very interesting,and a nice, warm person.She put her tiny hand on mine.I love talking to you.I have to go up now,he gets cross when I leave him alone for too long...She looked at me with her pale blue sad eyes.I have been mostly unhappy in my marriage,I knew within a year I made a terrible mistake but then the first child came and I was hoping things would change, they never did.Many times I thought I would leave but with no education and a little prospect of a good job,how would I support us?I have no say in anything.I have to go where he wants to go... She got up,we embraced,her slight body trembling. I watched her go,leaning on the walking stick... In my cabin I cried and cried. We all have a cross to bear.

What is a typical day on the Queen Elisabeth?

For me every day is typically untypical.I may say I have a certain routine but in reality I have no such thing.I do as I please.I wake up when I want to,breakfast when I am hungry,lunch at a time convenient.Tea? Sometimes.Dinner? As I have not been given a decent table and do not dine in Britannia, I do pop up to Lido now and then,but it really is only now and then,mostly I have no evening meal at all,just two little pieces of chocolate left by the room attendant.So what are the daily activities?Let's take Monday 7th December.The gym has a selection of classes:at 7 stretch and relax for all,then fab abs for the more fit,pilates and yoga for the converted,indoor cycling for the dedicated.As I am neither I like to do my own thing.I love using a ball to stretch my spine and do lift ups to strengthen the stomach muscles.I walk on the walking thing and pull on the pulling thing.One can take part in a trivia,killer darts and a paddle tennis competitions,learn to watercolour or play bridge.There are lectures to go to,music to listen to.And then there are the dance classes.