Tag Archives: cruise ship

Eggy Mc Nasty


Hey!! The sun’s shining and it’s hot, hot, hot so I thought I’d celebrate with a new and summery look for the blog. Fab, innit?

Not so keen on the font though so I’ll have to work our how to change it.

So. Back to our jolly hols:

Having got on the ship, found our cupboar…I mean cabin and did the emergency drill.

Ha. Emergency drill. It always amazes me how people just don’t listen. While they were being told and shown what to do in the case of an emergency loads of people fiddled with or put on their life jackets, despite being told not to, or chatted amongst themselves, gazed around the room and generally ignored what was going on.  The there was the other side of that coin – those who stared intently at the crew, hanging on to every word and paying very close attention as obviously disaster was inevitable and why did they even consider coming on a ship anyway. Stupid idea.

I like to think I was somewhere in the middle.

Boofuls and me thought we’d treat ourselves to some nice food in the Marco Pierre White restaurant on the ship. We dashed up to book hoping that we’d be able to get a table. I was a bit surprised to see that it was on an upper level in the atrium, basically a corridor that had been roped off and a few tables and chairs shoved in it.. Hhhm, not what I was expecting but never mind.

We approached the desk.

The very sniffy waiter looked us up and down. “We are very busy,” in a voice that would have frozen water. I’m glad we were sailing in warm seas or an iceberg would have been imminent.

“Oh well, we’ll come another night.”

“Well, I suppose I could sit you over there.”

We were duly shown to our table in the half empty ‘busy’ restaurant.

Having sat down we took in our surroundings. “Is it me or is it freezing in here?”

It was perishing! Me, Boofuls and the other 6 diners sat rubbing our arms (our own arms, we didn’t rub each others, that would have been downright weird) to generate a bit of warmth. Crikey, enough with the air conditioning already!

We perused the menu.  being a Marco Pierre White restaurant we were expecting big things. I was a bit surprised when I saw egg mayonnaise and watercress salad on the menu. Egg mayonnaise? Boring, much. Hhhmm or maybe not. If it’s been given the Marco treatment I bet it will taste like manna from heaven. Boofuls agreed with me. “Let’s have that then.” So that was the starter.

In due course, along came Eggy McNasty.

What arrived was a plate with two boiled eggs on it.

A whole egg rolled around the pile of undressed iceberg lettuce and watercress on the plate, it’s coating of mayonnaise making it look like a pale and  flabby seven stone weakling.

The other egg had been cut in half and had a bit of mayonnaise piped on the cut halves, creating the look  of two very surprised eyeballs staring up at us from the plate.

The whole egg continued to roll around the plate, trying to cover it’s nakedness until eventually it landed in a dusting of paprika.  The effect of that was that the egg then started to look amazingly like one of the many Scottish contingent on board, pasty faced, pale skinned and topped with a shock of red hair. A situation which changed for the Scots as the days wore on and they became more and more boiled lobsteresque in their appearance.  Not so for our eggy hero though. He remained pale and wan to the end when he was most likely snached up by an unfussy seagull as he was ditched overboard with all the other uneaten food.

However, I digress.

The egg with his new found Caledonian looks and confidence looked up at the watercress and in a voice not unlike one Taggart would have  if he was an egg, growled quietly  and threateningly:

“Aye. My name’s Eggy McNasty, so it is,  and I can see you sittin’ up there naked on your iceberg tower. Don’t you look down at me. I know where you live”

The watercress looked down fearfully, it seemed to be trembling with fear but that may have been the vibration of the ship.

The two eggy eyeballs seemed to get even wider as they waited to see what would happen next.

Boofuls and me stared at each other in surprise.

“What’s all this about, then?  Nice food?  There’s nothing nice about this food.  Take it away, waiter!

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Are we there yet?


Following on from the fire alarm fiasco at the hotel we set off to Southampton a bit bleary eyed and knackered.

We stopped at a Little Chef somewhere outside Southampton for a bit of caffeine to keep us going. As we sat and sipped in silence I gazed around me at the hoardes of people scuttling round like ants, apparently having no purpose or direction just scuttling. Or maybe that’s just how it appeared to me because I was so tired.

After a couple of minutes it became really obvious to me which people were heading for the cruise ships and which were not. It also became very apparent to me that there was a dress code, one which  Boofuls and me weren’t following. Tut tut.

Most of the ladies (and a few men) over a certain age  were wearing various combinations of ‘cruise wear’,  nautical blue and white striped outfits, usually finished off with a pair of deck shoes. I’ve never seen so many stripes in my life!  The male half of these couples tended to be decked out (hahaaa decked out – geddit?)  in chinos and checked  shirts with ties that didn’t quite match.  We felt quite out of place in our casual clothes.

Of course people watching and eavesdropping is the best part of being in a place like that so we watched and listened in amusement. I half expected to hear cries of ‘ship ahoooooy’ we didn’t hear that, as the ship was still quite a way off,  but what we did hear was a woman bragging very loudly about how she ‘managed’ to get a balcony suite.

Ooooohhhhh Missus!  Balcony suite eh?  Lucky sod.

No butler and balcony for us, our cabin was at the arse end of the ship and way down in the bowels.

It reminded me of one of my favourite photos, it’s by Alfred Steiglitz called ‘The Steerage’ taken in 1907 which showed the divide between first class and steerage passengers.

The Steerage. Alfred Steiglitz 1907

We know our place!