“This is the life, eh Shirl? Relaxing in a comfy chair, sipping a tropical cocktail! Our troubles feel miles away.”
“Oh yes, don’t they? I’m glad I bought this new suntop. I thought I might look like mutton dressed as lamb but of course I don’t. It’s what people wear on a cruise, isn’t it? Look, Bill! Isn’t that a dolphin? Or is it a porpoise? I can never tell the difference. Yes, we made the right decision. Especially after the year we’ve had…”
*
A cruise had been Shirl’s idea. Well, it was Bill who first suggested a holiday, to be fair. She’d been quite poorly, a nasty cough had got on her chest and bronchitis developed. It just wouldn’t shift. Whenever she thought she’d shaken it off, back it came. For weeks she’d been stuck inside. And that had come on top of Bill’s hip replacement. It had been paining him for some time until he could hardly walk from the bedroom to the lounge. Oh, he saw the doctor at regular intervals who told him straight out he needed an operation but, unfortunately, he was way down the list – ‘too old’, ‘not a priority’. Well, he didn’t say that, exactly, he muttered something about ‘scarce resources’, but that’s what he meant, she could tell.
Eventually, after nine months of increasing agony, Bill was deemed ‘bad enough’ to rise to the top of the list. The day of the op dawned, only to be cancelled at the last minute, literally: they were standing in the entrance hall waiting for the taxi when the hospital rang – an emergency, apparently. Well, you couldn’t argue with an emergency, could you? So it was another month before it was done and dusted. Then it took a while for Bill to regain his strength and to master his new hip. And as soon as he felt better, blow me if her bronchitis didn’t kick in!
What a year they’d had, indeed. And what made it worse, they had nowhere to sit out on the odd sunny day. Oh, there was a communal patio ’for residents to enjoy’ but it wasn’t the same as having their own space to potter about in. There was nowhere private and residents weren’t allowed to touch the flower borders in any case. HEALTH AND SAFETY.
They’d given up their beloved garden with the house. She couldn’t deny that it had been too big for them since number three son had finally moved out at the age of thirty-nine, but even so. The retirement flat – or apartment, as the company liked to call it – was very nice, as far as it went, but that wasn’t very far. A ‘compact’ (according to the glossy brochure that their daughter had given them, ‘small’ Shirl called it) lounge, tiny kitchen and only one bedroom. Not much room to spread out. Just as well they got on, she joked to Bill.
But the double dose of illness had made them yearn to stretch their legs – and their wings – and escape the dull British winter in search of a bit of sunshine. February would be perfect, they thought, give them a couple of months to get fully fit and it would be something to look forward to. But where to go?
Bill was in favour of a trip with their local coach company. “Look, Shirl, they’re going to Croatia at the end of February. I’ve always wanted to visit Dubrovnik.”
“I’m not sure about that, love. It takes three days to get there. Think how your leg’s going to feel after all that sitting! Anyway, its north Croatia, and it’s a big country, Dubrovnik’s a long way south.”
“How about Spain then? Look, we’d catch the ferry from Portsmouth to Santander and the hotel’s not far from there. The day after we leave home we’ll be sunbathing on the beach!”
“But Santander won’t be much warmer than here, it’s on the Atlantic coast.”
“You suggest somewhere, then!”
“Let me think... I know! What about the Canaries? It should be lovely and sunny at that time of year, and not too hot.”
“But I’m not keen on flying, you know that, Shirl, I worry about my blood pressure and flying’s not like it used to be, what with all the queues and delays, it’s so stressful.”
Shirl was triumphant. “We don’t have to fly; we can cruise there!” She hurried to fetch the weekend paper and thumbed through until she found the holiday section.
“There! Just the thing. A cruise to the Canaries sailing from Southampton on 21st February, a reasonable price and it includes transport from home!”
“Does it transport us back at the end?” Bill asked, dryly.
“Don’t be silly, Bill! Well? What do you think?”
“Are you sure we can manage a cruise? All that scrambling on and off the boat. And how do we know we won’t be seasick? Unless my schoolboy geography fails me, we’ll be crossing the Bay of Biscay, renowned for its violent storms and massive waves.”
But it was a last ditch attempt. Once Shirl had set her heart on something, agreeing with her was a formality.
So the cabin was chosen, in the middle of the ship to minimise turbulence and on the second deck up, partly because the higher you were, the higher the price and partly because, as Shirl pointed out (she’d heard it somewhere), ‘the more you pay, the more you sway’. A hefty deposit was paid and now they could count down the weeks, and then the days, before they sailed away into the sunset.
Bill was still doubtful, it must be said and, from time to time, he raised a mild worry. “Our passports haven’t expired, have they? It’s a few years since we went abroad.”
“I checked them when I booked. They’re OK for a while yet.”
A week or so later: “You don’t think we’re too old for this cruising lark?”
“Too old? Too old!” Shirl was getting exasperated, he could tell from her voice. “What do you imagine is the average age of cruisers on an adult-only ship like ours?” (He noted the almost proprietary tone). “Well into the eighties,” she continued, without waiting for a response. “I bet there are people who are even older than that.”
“I should think they’d be looking forward to their telegram from the Queen rather than jumping on a ship,” Bill muttered under his breath.
There was nothing wrong with Shirl’s hearing.
“Telegrams went out a long time ago; she probably sends a text or something. Are you being deliberately awkward, Bill Davies? You’re putting a bit of a dampener on this holiday, the way you’re going on. If you want me to cancel it, just say so!”
Bill was immediately contrite.
“No, don’t do that, love, I’m sorry. I’ll shut up. I’m keen to go, really I am. Besides, what better place to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary than on an ocean liner sailing towards Tenerife?”
“You remembered!”
“Of course I remembered. It would be hard not to when you’ve mentioned it at least once a month since our forty-ninth....."
Reassured, Shirl read the brochure over and over again. She gazed at the thumbnail pictures of the places they’d be visiting until she knew the itinerary off by heart – Madeira, La Palma, La Gomera (such evocative names), Gran Canaria, Tenerife, Lisbon. She couldn’t wait to see them all. She told Bill over and over again their ship’s vital statistics until he knew them off by heart – its length, tonnage, number of passengers, number of crew, number of restaurants – his head was reeling with all the information.
They took advantage of the after-Christmas sales to buy new clothes suitable for a cruise. They found a dress suit for Bill, hang the expense. After all, if they enjoyed the cruise as much as she hoped, they might do it again next year! Shirl hadn’t possessed a posh frock since she was in her twenties and wasn’t sure if the look was quite her. But when she tried on the midnight blue ankle length dress with a lace insert in the bodice, she felt – well, glamorous – and even Bill whistled approvingly as she gave him a twirl.
“Do you think we’ll be invited to the Captain’s table, Bill?”
“With you in that dress? Of course we will!”
The weather turned very cold in January and snow kept them indoors for days at a time. They consoled themselves with the thought of their wonderful holiday. Only a month to go. Now three, then two, weeks. Then, a week before the big day…
One damp morning, the snow having turned to slush overnight, a letter in a white envelope marked URGENT COMMUNICATION – THIS IS NOT A CIRCULAR plopped onto the mat. It was from the cruise company.
“You did pay the outstanding balance, didn’t you, Shirl?” Bill joked.
“It’ll be the final instructions, I expect.” Shirl neatly slit the envelope.
But it wasn’t.
Dear Guests, she read out loud, we regret to inform you that the ship has developed an electrical problem. This appeared, at first, to be a minor maintenance issue but it then became clear that a vital element had failed, affecting all aspects of our operations including heating, lighting, catering and water supplies. Our engineers are working hard to resolve the issue but, in the meantime, we are unable to guarantee guests’ comfort. Therefore, we have reluctantly taken the decision to CANCEL this cruise.
Unfortunately, this particular cruise would have been our final one to the Canaries this season. We can, however, offer you an alternative holiday on our sister ship which will be cruising the coast of Norway, departing from Liverpool on 1st March. Or you may prefer to transfer your booking to a future date. Cancellation is also an option, without penalty in these circumstances. Please contact us at your earliest convenience to discuss.
“Oh, Bill.”
Bill couldn’t think of anything helpful to say. He put his arm round his wife, his dear wife whom he knew had been so looking forward to her holiday in the sun.
“We can still go away, love, to Norway instead.”
“It won’t be warm in Norway, will it? Not in March!”
“Shall we cancel then?”
“I think it would be best. There’s always next year. For our fifty-first.”
“You reckon we’ll last that long, then?”
*
“Fancy another drink, love? It is our special anniversary after all! I’ll snap my fingers for the waiter.”
Bill smiled fondly at his wife. “It was lucky you bought those bottles of tropical cocktail when they were on offer in Sainsbury’s. They help to create the ambience.”
“And the Christmas present from the grandchildren is perfect. I don’t know when we’d have got round to watching a whole box set of ‘The Blue Planet’ otherwise. And no chance of seasickness! Turn the fire up a bit, Bill, would you? I’ll just pop and fetch my cardi.”
“Oh yes, don’t they? I’m glad I bought this new suntop. I thought I might look like mutton dressed as lamb but of course I don’t. It’s what people wear on a cruise, isn’t it? Look, Bill! Isn’t that a dolphin? Or is it a porpoise? I can never tell the difference. Yes, we made the right decision. Especially after the year we’ve had…”
*
A cruise had been Shirl’s idea. Well, it was Bill who first suggested a holiday, to be fair. She’d been quite poorly, a nasty cough had got on her chest and bronchitis developed. It just wouldn’t shift. Whenever she thought she’d shaken it off, back it came. For weeks she’d been stuck inside. And that had come on top of Bill’s hip replacement. It had been paining him for some time until he could hardly walk from the bedroom to the lounge. Oh, he saw the doctor at regular intervals who told him straight out he needed an operation but, unfortunately, he was way down the list – ‘too old’, ‘not a priority’. Well, he didn’t say that, exactly, he muttered something about ‘scarce resources’, but that’s what he meant, she could tell.
Eventually, after nine months of increasing agony, Bill was deemed ‘bad enough’ to rise to the top of the list. The day of the op dawned, only to be cancelled at the last minute, literally: they were standing in the entrance hall waiting for the taxi when the hospital rang – an emergency, apparently. Well, you couldn’t argue with an emergency, could you? So it was another month before it was done and dusted. Then it took a while for Bill to regain his strength and to master his new hip. And as soon as he felt better, blow me if her bronchitis didn’t kick in!
What a year they’d had, indeed. And what made it worse, they had nowhere to sit out on the odd sunny day. Oh, there was a communal patio ’for residents to enjoy’ but it wasn’t the same as having their own space to potter about in. There was nowhere private and residents weren’t allowed to touch the flower borders in any case. HEALTH AND SAFETY.
They’d given up their beloved garden with the house. She couldn’t deny that it had been too big for them since number three son had finally moved out at the age of thirty-nine, but even so. The retirement flat – or apartment, as the company liked to call it – was very nice, as far as it went, but that wasn’t very far. A ‘compact’ (according to the glossy brochure that their daughter had given them, ‘small’ Shirl called it) lounge, tiny kitchen and only one bedroom. Not much room to spread out. Just as well they got on, she joked to Bill.
But the double dose of illness had made them yearn to stretch their legs – and their wings – and escape the dull British winter in search of a bit of sunshine. February would be perfect, they thought, give them a couple of months to get fully fit and it would be something to look forward to. But where to go?
Bill was in favour of a trip with their local coach company. “Look, Shirl, they’re going to Croatia at the end of February. I’ve always wanted to visit Dubrovnik.”
“I’m not sure about that, love. It takes three days to get there. Think how your leg’s going to feel after all that sitting! Anyway, its north Croatia, and it’s a big country, Dubrovnik’s a long way south.”
“How about Spain then? Look, we’d catch the ferry from Portsmouth to Santander and the hotel’s not far from there. The day after we leave home we’ll be sunbathing on the beach!”
“But Santander won’t be much warmer than here, it’s on the Atlantic coast.”
“You suggest somewhere, then!”
“Let me think... I know! What about the Canaries? It should be lovely and sunny at that time of year, and not too hot.”
“But I’m not keen on flying, you know that, Shirl, I worry about my blood pressure and flying’s not like it used to be, what with all the queues and delays, it’s so stressful.”
Shirl was triumphant. “We don’t have to fly; we can cruise there!” She hurried to fetch the weekend paper and thumbed through until she found the holiday section.
“There! Just the thing. A cruise to the Canaries sailing from Southampton on 21st February, a reasonable price and it includes transport from home!”
“Does it transport us back at the end?” Bill asked, dryly.
“Don’t be silly, Bill! Well? What do you think?”
“Are you sure we can manage a cruise? All that scrambling on and off the boat. And how do we know we won’t be seasick? Unless my schoolboy geography fails me, we’ll be crossing the Bay of Biscay, renowned for its violent storms and massive waves.”
But it was a last ditch attempt. Once Shirl had set her heart on something, agreeing with her was a formality.
So the cabin was chosen, in the middle of the ship to minimise turbulence and on the second deck up, partly because the higher you were, the higher the price and partly because, as Shirl pointed out (she’d heard it somewhere), ‘the more you pay, the more you sway’. A hefty deposit was paid and now they could count down the weeks, and then the days, before they sailed away into the sunset.
Bill was still doubtful, it must be said and, from time to time, he raised a mild worry. “Our passports haven’t expired, have they? It’s a few years since we went abroad.”
“I checked them when I booked. They’re OK for a while yet.”
A week or so later: “You don’t think we’re too old for this cruising lark?”
“Too old? Too old!” Shirl was getting exasperated, he could tell from her voice. “What do you imagine is the average age of cruisers on an adult-only ship like ours?” (He noted the almost proprietary tone). “Well into the eighties,” she continued, without waiting for a response. “I bet there are people who are even older than that.”
“I should think they’d be looking forward to their telegram from the Queen rather than jumping on a ship,” Bill muttered under his breath.
There was nothing wrong with Shirl’s hearing.
“Telegrams went out a long time ago; she probably sends a text or something. Are you being deliberately awkward, Bill Davies? You’re putting a bit of a dampener on this holiday, the way you’re going on. If you want me to cancel it, just say so!”
Bill was immediately contrite.
“No, don’t do that, love, I’m sorry. I’ll shut up. I’m keen to go, really I am. Besides, what better place to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary than on an ocean liner sailing towards Tenerife?”
“You remembered!”
“Of course I remembered. It would be hard not to when you’ve mentioned it at least once a month since our forty-ninth....."
Reassured, Shirl read the brochure over and over again. She gazed at the thumbnail pictures of the places they’d be visiting until she knew the itinerary off by heart – Madeira, La Palma, La Gomera (such evocative names), Gran Canaria, Tenerife, Lisbon. She couldn’t wait to see them all. She told Bill over and over again their ship’s vital statistics until he knew them off by heart – its length, tonnage, number of passengers, number of crew, number of restaurants – his head was reeling with all the information.
They took advantage of the after-Christmas sales to buy new clothes suitable for a cruise. They found a dress suit for Bill, hang the expense. After all, if they enjoyed the cruise as much as she hoped, they might do it again next year! Shirl hadn’t possessed a posh frock since she was in her twenties and wasn’t sure if the look was quite her. But when she tried on the midnight blue ankle length dress with a lace insert in the bodice, she felt – well, glamorous – and even Bill whistled approvingly as she gave him a twirl.
“Do you think we’ll be invited to the Captain’s table, Bill?”
“With you in that dress? Of course we will!”
The weather turned very cold in January and snow kept them indoors for days at a time. They consoled themselves with the thought of their wonderful holiday. Only a month to go. Now three, then two, weeks. Then, a week before the big day…
One damp morning, the snow having turned to slush overnight, a letter in a white envelope marked URGENT COMMUNICATION – THIS IS NOT A CIRCULAR plopped onto the mat. It was from the cruise company.
“You did pay the outstanding balance, didn’t you, Shirl?” Bill joked.
“It’ll be the final instructions, I expect.” Shirl neatly slit the envelope.
But it wasn’t.
Dear Guests, she read out loud, we regret to inform you that the ship has developed an electrical problem. This appeared, at first, to be a minor maintenance issue but it then became clear that a vital element had failed, affecting all aspects of our operations including heating, lighting, catering and water supplies. Our engineers are working hard to resolve the issue but, in the meantime, we are unable to guarantee guests’ comfort. Therefore, we have reluctantly taken the decision to CANCEL this cruise.
Unfortunately, this particular cruise would have been our final one to the Canaries this season. We can, however, offer you an alternative holiday on our sister ship which will be cruising the coast of Norway, departing from Liverpool on 1st March. Or you may prefer to transfer your booking to a future date. Cancellation is also an option, without penalty in these circumstances. Please contact us at your earliest convenience to discuss.
“Oh, Bill.”
Bill couldn’t think of anything helpful to say. He put his arm round his wife, his dear wife whom he knew had been so looking forward to her holiday in the sun.
“We can still go away, love, to Norway instead.”
“It won’t be warm in Norway, will it? Not in March!”
“Shall we cancel then?”
“I think it would be best. There’s always next year. For our fifty-first.”
“You reckon we’ll last that long, then?”
*
“Fancy another drink, love? It is our special anniversary after all! I’ll snap my fingers for the waiter.”
Bill smiled fondly at his wife. “It was lucky you bought those bottles of tropical cocktail when they were on offer in Sainsbury’s. They help to create the ambience.”
“And the Christmas present from the grandchildren is perfect. I don’t know when we’d have got round to watching a whole box set of ‘The Blue Planet’ otherwise. And no chance of seasickness! Turn the fire up a bit, Bill, would you? I’ll just pop and fetch my cardi.”