It’s 5 PM. Time for the traditional sail away celebration as we leave the port and head to sea.
Except . . . we’re not going anywhere tonight. And we may not be going anywhere tomorrow or the day after that.
When we arrived at the port of Southampton we were greeted with a letter from the ship’s Captain explaining that the western coast of Great Britain is bracing for a hurricane and the Crown Princess will hunker down in port until the danger passes. If it doesn’t pass quickly, our visits to France, Spain, and Portugal could be scrubbed in the name of safety.
I appreciate the Captain’s forthright approach, except it’s not as if we have any choice but to board the ship. So we did.
We found our stateroom and began to settle in when the loudspeaker announced that the muster drill was to begin. Under the circumstances, it seemed unnecessary – truly a dry run — but we grabbed our life jackets and headed to our assigned meeting place anyway. You don’t mess with the muster drill. Afterward we drowned our sorrows in a cocktail before heading to what we affectionately call the Trough, but which others more kindly refer to as the Buffet, for supper.
Of course, there are more elegant dining venues on board, but we were still adjusting to this new itinerary and didn’t feel like being pleasant with fellow passengers. Rather, we stared out the windows in the Trough and watched two flags holding on to their poles for dear life. Maybe the Captain has something here, but it remains to be seen.