A day at sea today. Nothing to do but eat, sleep and eat, then people watch then eat some more.
I think I’ve said before about the food on the boat, but it really is very good and abundant.
I am not in the poshest restaurant for the evening meal, but even so it is impressive and the waiter service is really, really good. In fact the service throughout is fantastic.
There is just so much food available it encourages you to overeat….. so I am.
I’ve said before that as it is an Italian cruise line there are many Italians on board.
They do have style I must give it to them. They are naturally chic and cool.
And the language is, well, plain sensuous. Well I think so anyway. I just eavesdrop on the women talking and dribble. They could be talking about the cost of Fairy Liquid as far as I’m concerned.
The Italian women are, on the whole so elegant and so well dressed whatever the occasion. But, when they get it wrong – boy do they get it wrong. One of the Italian women wears shoulder pads that would have done Joan Collins in her Dynasty days proud.
If ever this ship sinks I’m going to bob around the sea with Joan, ‘cos when the Sea King rescue helicopter arrives it can land on one of her f***ing shoulder pads. I shall be waiting on the other one with Jobelson, half the ship’s company…and, hopefully, one of the Italian chefs.
Gays are fairly abundant on the boat – in both crew and passengers – although of little bother to me.
I am from Deal after all.
And, of course, I am fortunate enough to have my very own stationed outside my cabin 24 hours a day. Some men would complain at this but I look at the positive considering that whilst he is there the rest aren’t.
I was talking to a gay guy called Rex who’s from Paris – that’s Paris Texas (you’d never get a homosexual from Paris, France now would you?)
Rex maintains he doesn’t have a hard time from the Texan cowboys at all these days although he did say that in pre liberated times he had to have some Spurs surgically removed from his bum after answering back to a cowboy who called him “a faggot worse than a cattle fly.”
I told him that some girls in North London have the same problem Saturday nights after the big game.
Talking of gays….
I have my concerns about one of the barmen in my favourite little bar on the boat.
He is gay and I think prefers older men. I say he’s gay but I have no proof.
It’s just the mannerisms. The tight black pants, the even tighter white waistcoat, bronzed features, glistening capped teeth and enough gel on his dyed black hair to plaster a wall. These could be signs of a ships “gigolo” I know. But the nail varnish, constant humming of “the hills are alive” and the Judy Garland tattoo on his limp wrist just tip it for me.
Another clue is the way he reaches across the bar, flashes his pearlies (Jesus he must have spent a fortune on those teeth) pushes my non alki beer towards me and asks if there’s anything else I would like – with the emphasis on anyyyyytttttthhhhinnnnggggg!
I sort of get the picture of mild gayness.
He manages to say all this while stroking the back of my hand and running his tongue over those teeth. He must use a gallon of saliva doing so. It would be quicker to use a squeegee.
I have told him, repeatedly, that I am straight. But I think he has a mind of a missionary and senses a conversion before we finish the cruise.
Reluctantly, l may have to convert him to my way of thinking with a gentle knee in the gonads.
As far as he’s concerned the ship is the only thing docking on this trip!
Thinking about it though he may be the one to end up in the briney with, if the ship sinks.
Let’s face it. With that amount of gel he’ll create one of the worst oil slicks ever and the outcry must get an immediate response from governments.
Newly created shipboard fact
It takes just seven portions of chocolate mousse and three of Cinnamon creamed rice pudding to make a grown man sick at the lunchtime buffet.