What the Hell, Cunard??!

We left the QM2 in Southampton on 10 June 2026. We came straight home. No seeing friends, no grabbing a few bits in Tesco, no stopping at all. Forty minutes to get home. At that point I moved full time into the toilet (luckily we have two bathrooms….). Six days of the ‘watch both ends at the same time’ kind of sickness where I couldn’t even drink sips of water and wanted to die. Norovirus is supposed to last 2-4 days. After that you’re supposed to seek medical attention. Good luck with that. The response would be “Don’t you dare bring that in here.”

I know all about dehydration and rehydration therapies. I was once managing director of a company that made such things and invented a new system. There’s a photo of me with Prince Charles, as he then was, in my hall receiving a business award for doing exactly that. So I knew the danger I was in but couldn’t do anything about it and anyway I just wanted to die.

I put myself in a week’s quarantine – instead of the recommended 48 hours after your body manages to keep everything in – to protect my neighbours. I think the window washing guy was a little surprised to find a quarantine notice on our front door. Not that I could do anything anyway. When I came out of quarantine I couldn’t do much more than walk around the grounds of our apartment block. I was completely wiped out with no energy at all.

I can’t swim much anyway (see previous NHS-acquired health disaster HERE) but it’s been hot weather and me not wanting to go near the pool is unthinkable. “She must be ill, no-one’s seen her in the pool!” was heard frequently.

Unfortunately I had a ton of ‘I’ll do that when we come back’ stuff to do including getting my book out on my self-imposed deadline.

Before I explain further, if you’re one of the people with zero imagination who– without knowing the meaning or the spelling of it - is determined to use the words “Petrie dish” in the same sentence as “cruise ship” ( thinking that’s oh-so-clever), kindly lean into the screen so I can glare at you. You know nothing about cruising. Yes, you are entitled to your opinion but the problem with that is spouting your opinion on a subject about which you know zip can make you look extremely ignorant. 

“I would never go on a cruise”. OK then. Cruise naysayer then goes on to describe in mind-numbing detail the kind of holiday I would regard as Hell. It all just adds to the irritation.

We both loved cruising. We’ve been cruising regularly for over 30 years. (We used to live two miles from the cruise terminals in Southampton. It was the fastest way ever to begin a holiday).

So how did this “never again” state of affairs come about?

[I’ve looked into this in a previous article but to save you going there]

Covid. Probably. The cruise industry went into hibernation. The best staff – from lowly crew to captains – made a life elsewhere during lockdown. The cruise companies lost a ton of money in lost sales. They became overburdened with debt. Accountants can visualise financial horrors everywhere!

When the cruise industry revived – allegedly – it had gone in a different direction. Abandoning the last generation of those who loved the dressing up, the conviviality of formal dining, the friendly banter from staff who had time to spend talking to the passengers, it dived headlong into “give young people want they want”. Sadly, what they want is cheap, to do whatever they like -  ignoring all dress codes and tradition etc - and drinks packages. 

Drinks package became the bane of my life. I don’t socialize with drunks at home. Why would I want do that on holiday? And, of course, if your cruise line ends up being all inclusive, as they are wont to do, you’re actually paying for the privilege of spending time amongst the drunks.

The cruise lines cut everything to the bone. Less food choices, less facilities. Now the big problem here is that they’re cutting staff.

Before we gave up on cruising we thought we’d try the QM2 - the British flagship (despite the stupidity of filling their shops and bars with British goods then charging in US dollars). She mostly does transatlantic trips but branches out occasionally into other itineraries.

We chose 5 days from Southampton calling at Zeebrugge, Le Havre and Cherbourg. Zeebrugge didn’t happen because of a pilots’ strike but we did get to see the white cliffs of Dover as the ship turned round, which was pretty cool.

At Le Havre, there were people everywhere and I was surprised to see a lot of people coming up the gangplank wheeling suitcases. It didn’t occur to me until later, while trying to remember school French to help an elderly couple who were lost, that passengers were beginning their cruise in Le Havre. Presumably to travel on from Southampton or go to New York.

The same thing happened in Cherbourg.

So… new people, of various nationalities – British, Americans, French, travellers from further afield in Europe - were getting on in a different country and bringing that country’s germs, viruses, pathogens etc with them. I used to feel sorry for my Mum and her friends when every Christmas my brothers would descend from opposite sides of the globe and it would take Mum weeks to recover from the colds they’d brought with them.

I would not have chosen this cruise had I known it would be a glorified cross channel ferry.

It gets worse.

For the first 72 hours food in the buffet is served by staff, rather than passengers helping themselves. You can see why this would help prevent the spread of disease, of course, but why only 72 hours? Are we supposed to get the hang of washing our hands by then? Do the staff get bored?

This 72 hour period turned out to be critical on our cruise as it coincided with:

1) New passengers boarding

2) The hand gel dispensers – not that these work against Norovirus which needs soap and water, not gel -  were moved to one side.

3) The staff greeting you at the entrance to the buffet right near the handwashing area who guilted people into washing their hands vanished. They were nowhere to be seen. There were less staff generally in the buffet area. Where did they go?

So Day 4 was a disaster waiting to happen and – big surprise – I went down with Norovirus two days later.

I can see no reason for all health protocols being abandoned mid-cruise.

We will never cruise again. Clearly my body does not take kindly to Norovirus and it’s just too risky. Once I was compos mentis enough to sit at my PC all future cruises were cancelled, costing us an arm and a leg in lost deposits.

I was gutted - mentally this time. I actually cried. This was our future travel plans for years gone in an instant. Your loss, too, Cunard!

All is not lost. I had wanted to do more rail travel around Europe since the not-so-great student trip round Europe way back in 1978. (I should probably write about that…). I discovered a very knowledgeable and helpful person at Railbookers. Watch this space!!

The photo is Le Havre in sunshine after a day of torrential rain. Scrapbook pages later. I might even include the truly awful formal photos I paid $120 for if I have time to correct the dreadful over-exposure by a professional photographer. Hopeless. That phrase ending in ‘brewery’ springs to mind.

[This article also appears on my Substack.]

Housekeeping....

Not the kind that brings fluffy white towels, although should you come and stay with us you'll find we have a very extensive towel cupboard. We went to a new neighbour's flat a few weeks ago and discussed respective towel cupboards at length while our other halves looked on with sad faces.

Anyhoo...

The Ship's Rail blog has been archived (ditto cruising itself, of which more later). Importing that to this one was far too complicated and in attempting to do so I accidentally downloaded every single thing Google had on me for the last twenty years. That was a tad disturbing.

So some Ship's Rail articles are now on here. Some Substack articles are on here and vice versa. Substack is a fun, very polite place where writers hang out and read each other's stuff. Anyone can join. Well, they let me in for a start and the world is still eagerly awaiting publication of my first book rather than have me go on about writing the book. You can subscribe to anyone's articles, some are paid, some are free. Mine are all free and you can see my Substack HERE.

The main Coastal Scrapbooks site, originally set up to support our guest lecturing on the cruise ships, stays and I hope you will find the tutorials and design ideas useful for your own scrapbooks - or you can just go ahead and look at mine on there!

Completely random scrapbook page for you. Layered template by Katie Pertiet.

Did the heyday of cruising pass me by?

[This article appeared on my Substack]

By the end of this article you’ll think I’m a complete snob. That’s OK! I have become a snob about cruising. It’s very expensive and why would I want to shell out a fortune to spend two weeks with a bunch of drunk oiks?

I’ve been cruising for 30 years, over 20 cruises in all. It was easy living in Southampton where we were two miles from the port. Our neighbour used to take us in his posh car wearing his Salvation Army hat and security bods took him for a chauffeur and waved him down the Important People line. It was a fun way to start a cruise. 

We’ve moved now (I miss hearing the ships…) but we’re only 40 minutes’ away. Some folk don’t like cruising from Southampton as they regard the few sea days before you get to the Med/Baltic/wherever as a waste of time. We don’t. Those days are for chilling and doing nothing. Not that there’s anything wrong with the activities; I just can’t move myself to go line dancing at what my body considers to be Stupid O’clock. When you’re both working long hours and you’re exhausted, the enforced doing nothing for a couple of days is a blessing.

So, cruising has been convenient for us. 

There are three things that are messing it up:

The overall drop in standards. 

Covid was disastrous for the cruise lines. Almost three years with very little cashflow and the massive costs of keeping the ships going. But it’s been six years now. They should have got over it. What has happened instead is lines like P & O have gone ‘cheap and cheerful’, except they’re not cheap and some of the many cuts certainly removed the cheer.  There are less staff which means less friendly banter at dinner, no chatting to the steward when he brings you your drink. That’s rather sad.

The glue that held traditional lines like P & O together was the staff. Many from the same towns who had followed their fathers into the business. That ended with the pandemic as the long serving staff had to go home, deal with the horrors of the pandemic and home and rebuild their lives.

We’ve given up on P & O completely. The Ventura in 2024 was Chav City. Fashionable wear by the pool was what my Mum used to call “String up the jacksie” bikinis. Not exactly classy (told you I was a snob!). Kids were allowed to run around everywhere including the adults only pool and the gym (which was very dangerous given the heavy equipment in there). The staff did nothing.

The P & O killer for me, though, was the lack of gluten free fare in the restaurants. Not just the lack but the generally shambolic way they provided it, if at all. I have another article on this but basically there would be four choices one day then nothing the next. How is that helpful?

The End of Formal Nights?

Now, some people love dressing up for formal nights. I certainly do. It’s not just about dressing up. Behaviour is different. Everything is more elegant somehow.

Some people hate it. That’s fine too. 

Some ships have formal nights, some are very casual. They make it clear which they are in their websites and brochures. See that picture of the shiny, happy couple (nearly always white, always boy-girl, though some marketing people have a token attempt at diversity) on the deck looking at the sunset? He’s wearing a DJ and bow tie. She is sporting sequins. Clue – that’s a ship with formal nights!

Here’s the problem: There’s a large cohort of the ultra-thick who don’t choose the appropriate ship. Instead, they get on a ship with formal nights then make a big fuss about “I’m on holiday and can do what I like” and start insisting the ships don’t have formal nights. In the end they win. Cruising is dragged down with them. The rest of us lose our formal nights. And the cruise lines lose our business.

It’s an unnecessary problem, in my view. And who, by the way, is bringing up their sons to believe it’s OK to wear baseball caps in a restaurant?

I might choose to travel on a casual ship, especially if I’ve been brave enough to travel by train or plane either end of the cruise, but I certainly don’t want to have the choice of formal nights taken away from me.

The Drinks Packages

On a recent cruise we were on “freedom dining”. We prefer sitting with the same people each evening (though that can have problems of its own) but on this cruise we’d booked too late for that. Freedom dining worked out fine, we had no trouble getting a table and got in with the people we were sitting with,  who often turned out to be the same people we’d previously dined with, not surprisingly since we were turning up at the same time. “Not you again!” is the often hear joke in the dining room. 

It was all fine. But one evening we arrived last at the table for eight and had not met the people before. In front of one lady there was a pyramid of empty wine glasses and three full glasses. I had no clue what this was about and asked, “Is this some kind of game?” She was not amused and hissed, “I have the drinks package”. Note to self: “Find out later what this is about. Do not start ruck at dinner table.”

Here’s how it works: You get x number of drinks (up to 25 on some cruises) but usually a 15 minute gap is required between drinks. So the lady at our table had the waiter trained to keep bringing glasses of wine - every ten minutes as some strange time system was being used. The pyramid got larger and larger. I don’t know why the waiter didn’t remove them. Maybe he was trying to make a point.  Who needs a dozen glasses of wine at dinners, or indeed any time?

You will see passengers with drinks packages obsessed with getting value for money. They will miss out on trips ashore in order to sit in the bar all day. The result? A ship full of obnoxious drunks. How delightful. What a great way to spend our limited holiday budget.

I don’t NOT drink. I like a glass of wine or a cocktail or a Pimm’s by the pool.  I probably wouldn’t even do all three of those in a day or I’d fall over. I once had a steward come up to me and say “Madam, it’s time for your Pimm’s”. “Oh, so it is, yes please”. There might be a  scrapbook page of that…

More and more cruise lines are offering drinks packages. When some do it, they all have to. The packages are expensive but they’re the kind of thing they offer deals on when the sail date gets close and they’re panicking about filling the ship. Fred Olsen, now one of our preferred lines, have changed to offering wine and beer during meals. All very civilized but wait until you can’t get a table in the buffet because one group are spinning out their lunch by getting another pudding every now and then…

Proof of cocktails:

So what do we do about future cruises?

We’re about to try the QM2. I despair at the Facebook group full of “We always have a suite for our world cruise” snobs and entitled – dare I day it – American who are surprised and, indeed, offended to discover that Southampton is not in London. I’m lurking for possible info about the best places to spend the evening. I’m not joining in. Really, I must not join in and say what I think….

We have an 18 day cruise with Fred Olsen in the work. Full review of our last cruise with them, including the sex Olympics in the adjoining cabin, coming shortly.

Then I don’t know. I’m toying with the idea of grown-up interrailing. I didn’t enjoy it that much when I was a student back in 1978. Grotty youth hostels and stingy boyfriend not wanting to spend any money were not my thing. We’ll see…

Gluten Free Cruising - It's Not All Plain Sailing

Article coming soon...

Old photos? Roll with it...

As you can imagine, I've tweaked and tweaked these old photos from a day at the seaside when I was two. But sometimes you need to leave them looking old for the best effect. Template by Katie Pertiet.

What's a girl to wear?

[This article is taken from the archived "the Ship's Rail' blog]

X weeks to go until our first cruise since 2019. I'm not daft enough to tell several potential burglars - and one thieving cousin - the dates we're away. Here are some tips for you. They're mostly for the ladies although I should probably say something like "those who identify as wishing to wear a dress sometimes".

I take great pride in the enormous amount of luggage I can take on a cruise and enjoy saying "The airport is that way, Madam" to anyone rude enough to comment on it. However, some planning of what to take avoids a lot of wasted time and - more important -  energy. I don't pack early. That would make me unpack and repack several times "to make sure". I put everything on a hanging rail and on the spare bed (evicting the cat) and pack the day before the cruise. We live in Southampton so we only have two miles' of travel and don't have to stay anywhere overnight.

I won't tell you what to wear during the day or ashore. There are only so many times you can read "wear layers and comfortable shoes" without falling asleep. Maybe I should master that. Folk get free cruises for writing that.

Important point to remember: "No-one is looking at you". My husband says that to me all the time. 

Getting started:

1) Start now. Actually, start two weeks ago if you can nick a Tardis. It takes longer than you think and it's exhausting so you need to do it bit by bit.

2) Set up a system. You need piles/hanging for

- "Yes, I look fantastic in that, I'll pack it". Small space required for this category.

- Sewing/alterations. Don't leave this too late. I have a background in theatre wardrobe so theoretically I can alter/repair anything but I soon lose interest and/or run out of time and the outfit ends up not being taken. Anywhere. Ever. 

- Charity shop

- Maybe next cruise. As in get it out a few weeks before the next cruise and follow this procedure again!

Do not mix these piles up or you will have to start again and then spend ages tidying the bedroom, preferably more than ten minutes before you want to get into bed.

3) Have a colour scheme in mind. I ditch navy and rarely wear jeans anyway so I ditch denim too. Packing black, white and a few bright colours makes life easier. Your "not sure whether that new shirt is navy or black" will drive you mad at sea or on land so throw that out now.

4) Don't forget you need to sort out underwear, shoes, jewellery and the stash of Really Useful Things too.

5) Have a trusty assistant in the house for when you can't unzip yourself. You'll be so proud you were flexible enough to do up that zip but if you can't undo it again you'll have to open the door to the Amazon courier in full evening dress. That's if you can get down the stairs without tripping over it.

6) Have a friend on standby to say, "You always look wonderful, darling" even though he can't see you on the phone. This is not a Facetime opportunity. Later on, realise the friend is a malignant narcissist and write a book about him...

7) Remember to tell everyone if you've lost weight and that's now a problem. This will ensure you save money on stamps as there will be no-one left on your Christmas card list.

Formal Nights

I love formal nights, especially the black and white night. There's something quite magical about seeing everyone glide down those stairs to the atrium. If you have evening dresses going back to the 1980s and they fit, then wear them. There's no point even trying to buy new ones as some silly designer has decided women look good in voluminous flowery prints tied up in the middle. Bring back the sequins please.

If you don't have an evening dress then smart black trousers and sparkly top is fine and who doesn't have gold or silver sandals that look a bit daft in Bournemouth? Pack them!

Incidentally, don't be afraid to include white on the black and white night - for gentlemen too  Spot me wearing this one and I'll buy you a drink. That's if only the usual three people read this blog. Otherwise I'll buy you a coffee from the free coffee station.

Tip for the dress wearers: The tripping factor. Watch the length of those frocks. Formal nights are usually on sea days when the ship is tanking along, not pootling to the next Canaries island. If the dress is the right length with high heels, will it be too long if you have to change shoes? If you fall over can you get up again? No, in my case. A getting-up-again team will be required.

Here's a visual aid for that concept. 

Incidentally that dress now needs to go to the tailors for altering since I've shrunk in all directions (see 7) above).

Tip for the men: You ALL look good in a DJ, really you do! Look regularly in the sale section in M & S. At various times of year they sell off formal suits at much reduced prices. Take some stand-out bow ties. Don't bother with the cummerbund. 

Bras...

Do we need a little lift in that elegant evening dress? Yes, we do. Do we want to look like a hippo who's just got a job as a magician's assistant? No, we do not. Time to find the push-up bras that might fit. This is tricky as they've been put way never to be seen again. Try that drawer you hope your executors won't blab about. Choose executors carefully. 

Yes, it fits. And er, no. When did the boobs get so wrinkly? What is going on there? Do not wear glasses for this project. Find the clothes, take off glasses before looking in mirror. This is definitely a "wish I hadn't gone to Specsavers" moment. 

There was once a time when a push-up bra would have been ideal. Not in your twenties, nothing to work on. Possibly in your late thirties. That ship is well and truly over the horizon. You have permission to cry at this point.

Take comfortable bras. If the dress looks wrong with them alter the dress!

Shoes

Don't even think of trying to break in new shoes on a ship. You'll be in constant pain

OR

Take new shoes to break in on the ship. You'll have nice flat wooden floors to walk on and you can soon get back to your cabin if they're uncomfortable.

Do you wear boots and flip-flops all day? Start tottering about the house in your heels at least two weeks before the cruise or your calf muscles will give out!

You probably won't need as many shoes as you think. I tend to wear flip-flops around the ship and glittery flip-flops in the evening. Easy peasy. I still take loads of shoes. Be careful if you're thinking of taking shoes you've had for many years. I tried on some old ones, walked across the room and thought, "Great. I can wear these". I turned around and saw little piles of black rubber all over the new carpet. The soles and heels had disintegrated!

This section about shoes is probably no help at all.

Makeup

I'm tempted to write "Let's not even go there" since I've reached the age where I look at the makeup displays in a shop and have no idea what most of it is for (ditto the rest of the shop...). Plus I seem to be allergic to anything I could put on my face, perversely even more so with the hypoallergenic stuff. I make up - pardon the pun - for this can't-be-bothered look with weird and wonderful goings-on with my hair. So there.

Tip 1: Take a magnifying mirror, one with decent magnification that lights up. Lighting in cabins is abysmal. The mirror is also useful for plucking hairs from your chin even though they're grey now anyway. This blog is scarily based on my actual life experiences. Incidentally, if you like to knit or crochet in these dark cabins you can get little fold up craft lights.

Tip 2: Remember the ship is usually moving while you're getting ready for dinner, certainly if you're on second sitting. This is not the time to try out some new makeup technique you found on Pinterest which is probably designed for 14-year-olds anyway. If you're on a two week cruise you soon start to notice the ladies have got tired of trying to do fancy makeup while being thrown across the room in rough seas.

Bling

I have loads of jewellery. Drawers and boxes full of it, mostly the big statement stuff. None of it is valuable. I wore a bracelet last week that was much admired and it cost £2.99 in Sainsbury's. I must find the matching necklace. Tip: if you like bracelets pack a crochet hook and practise using it to do the bracelet up by yourself in case cabin-mate goes awol.

I should probably say, "Ladies, sort out the jewellery you want to wear with each outfit and store it in a little bag with that outfit" Nah. Who does that? I pack loads in a roll up thingy so I have the fun of choosing. Admittedly I store goes-with-formal separately from loud tropical colours but I still get to choose. I actually bought a bigger roll up thingy a few weeks ago. I can't find that...

Style tip: Try a big statement necklace with a V neck dress, even if you don't normally wear one. It makes a difference and detracts from the wrinkles.

Evening Bags

Well, this is no fun at all. I used to carry dinky little evening bags that contained virtually nothing. I still have one my Dad bought me when I was sixteen. Dinky little ones are now useless. As well as my cruise card I need to carry a phone - for its camera function, I hasten to add - reading glasses, a fan and husband's insulin kit if he doesn't have a jacket. Of course if he is wearing a jacket I can load him up with my stuff! This was the pile of evening bags and make-up bags on my bed a few days ago.

Proper Coat

If you ever want to stand out on deck while the ship is moving - or even in port - you'll need a Proper Coat. You're standing on a 10 - 15 storey building. You wouldn't do that without a coat.  Not  necessarily your Big Coat unless you're going way north. I don't do that. An anorak/thick fleece type thing and a fold up mac to carry about with you will be fine.

All the Really Useful Things

I pack a gazillion useful things, mostly in clear zip up bags or hanging pockets so I can see what's what. You might be at sea and/or it costs an arm and a leg to replace the Thing from the shop so I pack it. 

Don't forget: chargers and extra adaptors. Why the extra adaptors? Because you shouldn't take extension leads (surge protectors can sink the ship) and if you take US and European adaptors then you can use all the sockets, not just the UK ones, thereby avoiding charger-related divorce proceedings.

Other essentials

- Strong magnetic hooks. The walls are steel. Hooks mean you can get your hats, bags etc out of the way. Note: these are very strong magnets. I store them in the shed since I don't want half the house magnetised. You can also get magnetic clips to hang the Daily Orders (sorry, Daily News) and other paperwork on the wall.

- Selfie stick. We have dozens of these since no-one follows my advice and we end up buying one on every holiday. People really should listen to my sound advice.

- Sewing kit including shirt buttons 

- Pegs of various sizes. To attach your towel to your sunbed on a breezy day  (the big ones used to hang duvets are great for this), to fix curtains together when there is light coming through the gap, to hang washing on the bungee line you're also going to bring if it's a longer cruise.

- Craft stuff for the Knit and Natter on sea days. See you there!

- A spare bag for the last morning - for your overnight stuff /stupid souvenirs you bought and don't have room for. I usually keep out the big beach bag I use around the pool.

I'd list more but then you'd just think I was bonkers.

And ...relax! Have a great cruise!

Don't forget to make a "Cruise Prep" scrapbook page...

Be The Tourist - Silly Stuff in Bordeaux

We went on a Fred Olsen cruise on the Balmoral last May. There are many tales to tell. Later. We were hoping to meet some friends who live near Bordeaux but they were in the UK, as luck would have it. So, that’s an excuse to go back.

Right by where the ships dock - the small ones that can get up the river - is the Miroir d’Eau. It’s a daft water pavement thing. Every 15 minutes or so mist comes through the many holes and then it fills with water, only to a depth of about three inches but…wet, wet, water. Not just mist.

Kids go on it, a few tourists go on it. I’m there. I’m ready. I have one of the “paddle towels” we take to the beach secreted in my little bag. Shoes are off and I’m in. Or, maybe “on”.

Our dinner table buddies laughed at me. Folk mocked me for doing the “tourist” things. I suspect some of these were jealous that I carry a towel with me like Ford Prefect.

If you don’t live there then…hello… you’re a tourist. Embrace it. Do the touristy things. (Well, within reason. I’ve been known to mock those who go to the Beatles exhibition in Liverpool .) Have the courtesy to spend money locally.

Within five minutes’ walk of the ship there are little squares of cafes and restaurants where waiters will indulge your need to practise your O-level French but will take pity on you and switch to English before everyone starves. Walk a little further away from the river and the main shopping street has stores SO much better than at home.

The weather wasn’t very kind so the photos are a bit murky but here’s the scrapbook page:

(A version of this article appears on my Substack page)