Today is the penultimate sea day and we are beginning to traverse the Bay of Biscay. Normally the Bay is a rough crossing accompanied by high winds and turbulent seas, but currently the ship is only experiencing a gentle yee and yaw with small delicate whitecaps surrounding the ship.
Tomorrow will be chock-full with the task of packing. Pulling out the suitcases from under the bed - which seemed as though they were only put there a few days ago and trying to fit into them, the last three months worth of spontaneous purchases as well as all of that which had been packed into them in the first place. All whilst attending various drinks and coffees and farewells attached to the short and intense friendships that a world cruise affords.
Our ship is currently level with Cape Finisterre on the Western Coast of Spain. It is 50 miles from Santiago De Compostela which some will know as the end point of the Camino De Santiago - the ancient path, where many tourists today walk along its sacred way in the footprints of so many pilgrims of the past, in fact, ever since early Christianity, but the area also hides many other myths and legends besides those of Christianity.
The Cape was thought in Roman times, to be the end of the known world and if you sailed past it you would fall off. The coast here is also known as Costa da Morte (Death Coast) that is the site of numerous shipwrecks and having been fought over constantly by the British, French and Spanish. Napoleon, Nelson, all the great commanders have all battled here for control of the seas.
In ancient times it is here where when the sun disappears beneath the waves, that the veil between this world and the next fades and the gates to the afterlife open.
In a way that is true for us, because we are opening the gates to a type of afterlife, the afterlife of the World Voyage when we will be leaving our cosseted Cunard bubble and travelling back into the realm of reality on shore.
Today the last of the traditional entertainments is being held, the "Country Fayre". An opportunity for passengers to donate various clothing that they are not confident of fitting into again let alone into their suitcases and also an opportunity to offload that “must have” Indonesian National dress that they bought in Bitung and that they thought that they would wear, but now have come to the realisation that they never will. After three months of Cunard's top chefs’, we all are struggling to wear even what we arrived in.
At the Fayre there were also numerous raffles and auctions, the nautical charts of the trip, an opportunity for an afternoon tea with the ships Master and various parts of the ship that they are gambling on that they can best do without, such as a section of the mooring rope and a ships life jacket. There was also the opportunity of a “Blind Auction,” the winner to have their name engraved on a plaque and for it to be placed in the entrance to one of the bars. I am pleased to say that this, I won and now although I am not physically on the ship, my presence is always here, watching.
The most popular game seemed to be, throw a wet sponge at an officer and that was where I came a cropper.
Apparently it was not to be just some random officer wandering around the room but a designated one already positioned in the stocks on the stage.
I do apologise to the Deputy Captain once again, I am sorry I didn't quite understand the rules. I hope Sir, that you can get that stain out of your uniform.
There was also "Whack the Rat", dropped down a drainpipe and for which you were meant to hit it and knock it back against the wall with the paddle - not, as I found out, into the audience to create panic amongst the assembled crowd who thought errant rats were dropping onto them from out of the chandeliers. Once again I apologise to the Ships Company, although Security does seem to attend these occasions very quickly when I am in attendance.
Mother England is definitely calling and not before time or I might end up walking the plank - again. (ROSS THORBY)
