Preparations

Some things, like having babies and ironing, are biologically impossible for men. Packing falls well within this category. Over several weeks, cruise clothes and stuff accumulated in the guest bedroom until it looked like a badly run charity shop. Although the task looked impossible Janet managed, in less than two hours, to pack all her clothes and quite a lot of mine into our three suitcases.
These days we have a complete kitchen cupboard devoted to medicines and it was a hard task deciding which ones to pack. Our Doctor, or as we call him, Dealer, prescribes a lot of pills that we have to take daily. We counted these out and threw away the packaging so there was room for essentials like laxatives and those things that do exactly the opposite. With the rich foods and the choice of viruses on a cruise ship things can go either way.

The laxatives were a new type so I road tested them a couple of days ago. With new medicines it is important to read the instructions which clearly recommended one tablet just before bedtime. Pity I read them after I’d taken two in the morning. This led to an interesting 24 hours which included what can only be described as a nervous night’s sleep.

Janet decided that, for the holiday, I needed a professional haircut. She usually cuts what’s left of my hair but since the No 2 clippers broke she’s had to improvise and I’d started to look a bit like Max Wall. I went to a new ‘Unisex’ hairdresser in town who turned out to be a totally disinterested ladette who looked like the fat bird off Gavin & Stacy. Rolls of flesh were covered in hair and tattoos. The hair was mostly from previous customers and the entwined parrots had obviously started out as lovebirds.

With my head in one hand and her shears in the other she displayed skills that must have been learnt in the Australian Outback. “Wot you bin doin then” she shouted, over the howl of pop music. As the only thing we had in common was the ability to breathe oxygen, conversation was not a success. After about five minutes pummelling I opened my eyes to discover I had a close but surprisingly acceptable haircut. “How much do I owe you” I asked.

She hesitated for a moment, still back in the shearing pen and ready to untie my back legs. “Err, just £3 Luv”. Amazing, I’ll go there again - I don’t know how she does it for it for the price.

Dave C.