Paradise Regained

Despite having Dad’s spirit hovering over us like the Ghost of Cruises Past, Patricia and I immediately set out to put the “fun” into “Funship”.

Before the ship had even left the terminal we were having a private mini-golf tournament on the sun deck. Note the look of intense concentration. This was serious business.


Despite the inferior putting skills on display in the shot below, I put in the least appalling performance on the day and triumphed with a score of only several over par. I am considering taking lessons from the 10 year old boy who was playing behind us.


As veterans of the Paradise, Patricia and I knew exactly what we wanted to do and where to find it. Indeed, the knowledge of where to find things caused some early conflict between us. We had agreed that it might be embarrassing to admit that we’d cruised on this ship less than a month before. So we’d decided in advance to be discreet about that little detail in our discussions with others.

However, once we were actually on the ship we started bumping into the 2000 other guests who were apparently all having difficulty locating the Lido Deck, or the Leonardo Lounge, or the Rotterdam Bar, or the Upper Deck (cruelly located in the middle of the ship). Partly because I’m a naturally helpful person, and partly because they were in my way, I started giving out directions.

Let me say at this point that I still don’t think this constituted a violation of our agreement. Although in Patricia’s version of the story she has me standing in central locations waving ping pong paddles to direct traffic, in fact, I was much less conspicuous about it than that. Michael, the guy who ended up catching me out, was really just amazingly perceptive. The bar I directed him to was only just around the corner from where we were sitting and there is no good reason why I shouldn’t have noticed it casually on a first walk past. Something must have tipped him off (possibly Patricia’s vigorous “shut-up” hand gestures) and he managed to pin me down to dates by relentless application of logic: “Wait a minute, you’re from Sydney, you got here a month ago and you’ve cruised on this ship before?”

Never give directions to a Canadian insurance salesman. They’re entirely too intelligent and it’s sure to backfire.

A couple of days later when we were clicking through photos of the compulsory life-boat drill Patricia and I were both astonished to discover that Michael, the directionally challenged but excessively clever Canadian, had been sitting right beside us (left). You’ll notice that he already looks lost.

I think Patricia is really just jealous because she wanted to give the directions. Look at her with the whistle and the air hostess smile! A frustrated traffic cop if ever I saw one. Someone give this woman a green cap.

Fun ship? Hel-lo!