Christmas at Sea

I've had a fairly strict brief from my editor for this trip. No photoshopped pictures of whales, particularly balancing beach balls, definitely no paddling giraffes and blogs must be based on events that actually happened whilst I'm awake.  Oh well, here goes...

Life on a cruise ship is always slightly surreal, but Christmas Day felt seriously odd.  After opening our presents from Mother Christmas we watched the senior staff reindeer racing.  You have to be impressed at any captain who can still look authoratitive in a pair of christmas antlers.  Reindeer steaks are often on the Fred Olsen menus but they have been noticeably absent in the run up to Christmas Day.  There are not many children onboard, but I suppose eating reindeer on Christmas Eve could guarantee years of counselling for the under-10s.  It will be interesting to see how soon it reappears on the menu.  That will tell us a lot about the chef's sense of irony.

After the reindeer racing, I sat on the balcony for the rest of the morning.  The Boudicca was chopping up and down in moderate seas with little white horses and the view was beautiful.  A large patch of the sea shimmered in the sunlight.  I could feel a fine mist which turned out to be tiny particles of salt which, at the height of the ninth floor, were crystallising out of the sea spray.  On my dark fleece it looked like a case of terminal dandruff.

We walked a mile on the promenade deck which, becaude the Boudicca is so small, is 5 laps.  That's quite good because you don't have far to go on the cold and windy side before you're back on the sunny one.  Unfortunately you have to run a gauntlet of smokers on the rear deck.  This is the only public place where smoking is allowed and they're hanging on grimly to their last outpost of empire.  They glare malevolently as you pass.  Making them share their citadel with people who are trying to stay fit is the final insult.

Turker Dinner and then the Christmas show.  The singers and dancers were young, enthusiastic, and hit all the right notes.  Afterwards, we stayed to watch and name the gigolos or 'Dance Hosts' as Fred Olsen calls them.  On a Christmas cruise we had to choose Prancer, Dancer, Donna and Blitzen.  Prancer certainly knew how to sweep a lady off her feet, particularly if she was old and frail.  Dancer clearly had previous experience but he was no match for the large lady in the red dress with the low centre of gravity.  Together they could only achieve something akin to Sumo wrestling.  Donna was one of the female dance hosts that Fred Olsen is now employing to increase the range of available services.  We called the final man Blitzen because Santa didn't have a reindeer called Norman.  He looked suspiciously average and so immediately won our regular award for the gigolo 'most likely to keep his murdered wife in a freezer at home'.

We had a romantic nightcap in the Observatory and then it was back to the cabin for some good old fashioned entertainment.  Janet has brought a complete set of Downton Abbey dvds with us, and so we watched another episode.

Dave C.
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