I was expecting to rest and work on my E-book destination city guide series, but to my dismay, the hour was moved forward every day at 12 noon, and if I slept in I had to press breakfast into lunch and then before I knew it, it was late enough to get ready for dinner—after looking at the 4 page activity list, everything was taking place at about the same time to squeeze in all of it, but I would have been a marathon runner to make all, which took place in every nook and cranny of the sprawling decks on the Queen Mary 2, and I was so busy playing catchup with time to get some exercise on deck, and grabbing lunch, or what I could get of it since I didn't have time to eat in Britannia Restaurant, I couldn't find a minutre to spare.
Everyone was hurrying to eat something—the only relaxed passengers had to have been up at 5 a.m. to get time to eat and attend a lecture—though it would have had to be only 1 of the many as all were jammed in to the 4 hour day after 1 p.m., and lunch had to be fitted in, because the sea air seemed to bring a need to eat more. I noticed that it had to be those early 4 and 5 a.m. risers who were napping on a deck chair. Or was it that for many of us, those less than early risers there was so little time between 1 and 6 p.m., which was the first sitting for dinner. And ladies had to fit in getting hair done, dressed, and made up to look just perfect for the first formal dinner.
I had the chosen the 6 p.m., but I changed to the 8:30 p.m. seating as I realized my stomach couldn't eat all that food within the space of the few hours left in the day when 1 p.m. came an hour ahead of my inner body clock. But then, I was dismayed to find out that I didn't to bed until after 2 a.m. as my table mates were having after dinner coffee and conversing—I realized that socializing and that hour forward every day meant rising at 7:30 a.m., but then I was so exhausted that following day.
It ended up that sleep wasn't possible, I was barely getting 5 hours even when I wanted to skip breakfast, as the Captain had found something he wanted to converse about, and I couldn't shut off the sound of his voice coming into my room—but then we had to do a deck drill, and lo and behold the 2nd day whizzed by, and I never got a chance to sit on deck chair, I didn't even walk the deck, I didn't have time.
Also I had to visit the Purser's desk and queue on line to make arrangements for storing my formal clothing hang up bag in Southampton, as I was returning on the 8th of October to take the transatlantic cruise back to Red Hook in Brooklyn, U.S.A. I asked lots of questions about the storage since I had very expensive formal clothing purchased especially for the trip. I had few chances to wear such things and I had given away what I had years earlier.
When I was finally at the head of the line (about an hour later), and I wondered if I'd have a chance to eat some lunch, or something, because I was ravenous since I had eaten much earlier than usual, I managed to still my impatience and tell the clerk at the Purser's desk that I had no travel insurance since I had 1 piece of luggage and I was taking it on the train with me after we docked at Hamburg. I also mentioned that the hangup bag had fit inside my luggage but storage until I returned on October 8 seemed like a good idea because my luggage would be lighter.
I mentioned that I planned to put my 2 pairs of designer shoes specially ordered to fit me inside the bag, and I also was planning to include my lovely Christian Dior slippers, which I didn't need as I had the Cunard flat slippers to use while I was traveling. The clerk noted that my luggage was insured against loss, and I didn't ask for how much, as I was certain that Cunard would give a passenger on the Cunard 's flagship Queen Mary 2 with an Ocean View room sufficient insurance to cover loss, which the clerk assured me wouldn't happen. The clerk also noted that luggage storage was not considered the same as it would be if a passenger gave Cunard their luggage to load on board prior to leaving the port.
But then I had no way of knowing that my formal clothing which I had meticulously chosen was soon to be something only in my fond memories of those 7 hurried and harried days, as I left the bag with the tags given to me by the clerk and carefully filled out in front of my stateroom door at 6 p.m. the evening of the 28th of September—earlier that day I waited again on line to show one of clerks at the Purser's desk the tag I filled out—for some reason I was worried and needed to be reassured that the tag was filled out correctly.
TO BE CONTINUED
*PLEASE NOTE THAT WHAT IS SAY IN THIS BLOG IS MY OPINION BASED ON MY EXPERIENCE
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