A Voyage Around My Father...land (on NCL Dawn)

[JakTar]

This is the diary of a solo passenger’s 10-night springtime cruise around the UK and Ireland aboard the Norwegian Dawn. After 20-something cruises, and none since the pandemic, the opportunity to see my home islands from a new perspective has proved irresistible. These days the Dawn is probably considered a mid-sized ship even though she can carry almost as many passengers as the Queen Mary II. It may be of interest to those contemplating a similar cruise…

Sunday 14 May 2023 - Southampton

The 68 bus from Euston Station to Waterloo Station across the river is an easier and more scenic option than dragging a case through the Underground (and perhaps even quicker) and my train to Southampton is running to schedule. From there, it’s a relatively easy, 15-minute, suitcase-wheeling walk past the police station and along Southern Road to Dock Gate 10 and the Horizon Terminal where the Norwegian Dawn is waiting in bright sunshine.
I drop off my suitcase outside the terminal prior to a quick check-in (I didn’t need to download an app or print off documentation or labels - just show my passport and give my booking reference) then, with keycard in hand, I go off to find my inside cabin on Deck 10 where fine, pencil artwork of world-famous buildings such as St. Peter's Basilica lines the corridors. My cabin is roomy and clean with a decent-sized bathroom comprising shower, sink and toilet. Initial impressions of my home for the next ten days are good. With my copy of the Freestyle Daily newsletter in hand, I set off in search of something to eat to the accompaniment of incessant, repetitive announcements which rapidly become background noise and are barely comprehensible in public spaces.
After locating my assembly station and attending the safety drill I head off to the Garden Café on Deck 12 where there won’t be any playing chicken with the automatic doors leading to the pool area because they don’t open until a couple of seconds after you actually reach them. 24-hour hot and cold drinks are available from the café but the buffet isn’t open yet. (According to the Freestyle Daily, it closed at 3.30pm and will re-open at 5pm.) However, the poolside burger bar has banana and vanilla loaf cake which, with a cup of tea, will be fine for the moment. I now face a common problem on cruise ships - how to indicate that I haven’t finished with my cutlery and crockery. Holland America? That’s a napkin on the chair back. Cunard? That’s two pieces of cutlery set at quarter to three, or a single piece at quarter past three. Alternatively, carry around a sheet of paper on which is written “Please do NOT clear this ~#£$&?* table!!!” I’ll experiment with the cutlery option.
At 6pm there’s a Solo Travellers Meet in The Cellars wine bar where an enthusiastic social host a third of our age acts as facilitator. Whilst one of our number, a domineering American woman, tries to organise numbers for a meal tonight in the Venetian Dining Room (A table for ten? For tonight? She’ll be lucky, but our facilitator will try), I corner the host before he can call the Maitre d’ and get him to explain “Freestyle”. There really isn’t anything to explain: there’s no assigned dining so you eat where you want when you want, assuming there’s room, or eat in the Garden Café. I go and search out some of the various restaurants which are all very busy, seem rather claustrophobic and have long queues outside. No, thanks.
In the (very) Grand Atrium spanning decks 7 to 10, there’s live Latin music from Soul Solution playing the first of their two 45-minute sets this evening with people dancing up at o'Sheehans (i.e. oceans) Bar and Grill on deck 8 which overlooks the atrium.
I go up to the Garden Café and enjoy various delicious breads with onion soup, looking out of the large picture windows across the calm waters of the Solent and afterwards, from the vast selection set across several stations, I take some grilled mahi mahi, rice and vegetables, and also two slices of banana cake to be saved for later as it’s after eight o’clock and tonight’s single-performance show has already started.
The large Stardust Theatre spans decks 6 and 7 forward and on stage is Kircaldy’s own Glenn Owen McNamara from The Rat Pack - Swinging At The Sands. He’s good, very good, and I don’t even care much for swing and the big band sound. Classics outside the Rat Pack repertoire include Mona Lisa which, amazingly, was originally a B-side. There’s also excellent backing from the Norwegian Dawn’s showband (I hesitate calling a 7-piece outfit, no matter how talented, an “orchestra”).
After looking in on the quiet Welcome Aboard party in the Bliss Lounge on Deck 7 aft I find things much livelier in Gatsby’s bar where vocalist Devin Provenzano from New York, accompanying himself on the guitar, sings crowd favourites such as Delilah, 500 Miles and The Fields of Athenrye.
I feel compelled to try something from the late night menu at o'Sheehans and plump for the apple pie and ice cream. Disappointingly, there’s far too much apple to pie and the apple is bland instead of being Bramley sharp. After tea after midnight in the Garden Café, I check with Guest Services (where the queues stretching twice round the ship and back to Southampton have finally disappeared) the amount of the service charge - it’s $20 per person per day. Ouch!
The ship is steady as I head for bed at 00.45am and notice the time on my phone has gone back one hour. I’ll have to set the time zone manually.

Monday 15 May - At Sea

The cabin seems quiet - no creaks from any fittings and no noise from neighbouring cabins. I get up at 9am to see what a day at sea holds in store. The tip of the day in the Freestyle Daily is very useful: “Trying to find the front of the ship? Look at the floor & follow the fish, they always swim forward.” The front page also explains that, “With no set dining times and no seat assignments, you can dine on your time and not on a schedule.” As a solo passenger, I’d prefer a schedule - being seated with other solo diners, not all of whom would necessarily be at the daily meet.
Unsurprisingly, it’s busy up in the Garden Café but eventually I find a table for two with views out to a calm, misty North Sea, aptly named because we're at sea and sailing north. A couple of middle-aged Americans sit at the next table, shouting at each other in what presumably passes for normal conversation across the pond. An elderly English lady joins them and asks in a barely discernible voice where they're from. "Oh, I'm from Noo Jersey, but my grandmother was from Scaaaatland," screams the larger of the two women, in a voice that could be heard in her ancestral home.
I move away to a table by the picture windows where the engine vibration gives me a complimentary massage of the kind usually only experienced in establishments of dubious repute - allegedly. During breakfast, waiters repeatedly (and irritatingly) try and take my used plates and cups away when I’m still using them.
At 11 o’clock in the Grand Atrium there’s a Port [sic] of Call trivia quiz. I watch on. St James’ brewery made Guinness? Well, you live and learn. Nearby, an elderly Portuguese woman speaks her text message and WhatsApp types it out! Well, you live and learn.
At noon it’s the captain's update: 326 nautical miles to Newhaven where tomorrow's forecast is for sunny skies. Barometric pressure, sea temperature, wave height…. The usual rigmarole. It’s followed by the cruise director’s what's-happening announcement which includes misuse of the article. Further misuse follows when she announces that, due to technical difficulties in the Stardust Theatre, Deal Or No Deal this afternoon is cancelled but will be happening, "in the coming future days." Perhaps Isha, with her unexpectedly free time, could avail herself of a grammar book, if such is to be found in the small library which I locate beyond the open air pool. My eyes alight on How Not To Die by Michael Greger. Are the secrets of immortality within my grasp - just as soon as the library book checkout re-opens at 3pm? Sadly not. A closer look reveals the tome to be the rather more prosaic “How Not To Diet”; advice seemingly taken up with gusto judging by the size of many of my fellow passengers.
The Garden Cafe offers two soups for lunch but, disappointingly, neither is vegetarian - after checking with one of the chefs, I learn that a chicken stock was used for both. Perhaps I should have checked last night before having the onion soup. I suggest to the restaurant manager that the food labels need amending with a "v" to indicate vegetarian. Domenica says she'll take it up with the food and beverage manager.
At the 70s Party Line Dance Class at 1.45, classics such asYMCA and the Electric Slide are taught. It’s an opportunity to socialize as a solo passenger but the small dance floor in the Bliss Lounge is packed to overflowing so I watch on as do many others. After listening to live music in the Atrium I return to the lounge for the quiz an hour later, scoring a lowly 12 out of 20 in my team of one. Fancy forgetting two of the four Hogwarts houses - the two that rhyme: Gryffindor and Ravenclaw!
I chat with my cabin steward. He has 23 cabins to clean - a mix of inside and balcony - and is one of a team of 58, down from the pre-pandemic level of 120, which is why there's no turndown service in the evening. His day starts at 8am and finishes at 6pm.
A light snack follows in the Garden Café, looking beyond a group of 10 sociable Portuguese speakers, making far less noise across their two tables than this morning's American annoyance, to a calm sea shimmering in the sunshine. It looks so inviting that I go for a stroll round the pool deck and the upper decks, still trying to get my bearings.
I don’t bother with the 5pm Solo Travelers Meet, preferring to look down at the small space that is Gatsby's which is packed for Latin Bland (an unfortunate typo) with passengers up and dancing.
Isn’t there a more romantic setting than the theatre toilet to tell someone, “I love you”?
“Love you too,” says the guy’s partner as he’s about to use the facilities, but she didn't sound like she meant it.
After watching some of the aerial acrobatics provided by a young Ukranian couple, I return to the Garden Café for a cup of tea and a couple of slices of the extremely more-ish cinnamon raisin bread prior to listening to an enjoyable, 45-minute Country/Americana set from Devin in the Grand Atrium. I wonder how many songs he has in his repertoire.

Tuesday 16 May - Newhaven (Edinburgh)

We've anchored offshore, in the Firth of Forth, with fine views to the island of Inchkeith and the Forth Bridges. There’s a text from my dentist to remind me about Thursday’s appointment. Oops. I try and rearrange it but a shouty American woman deafening a poolside bartender makes my phone call impossible. I search for a less noisy environment.
The vibrations on the starboard side of the Garden Café are very uncomfortable so I move over to the port side where all is calm, and watch the tenders running between the ship and the dock. During breakfast, the over-enthusiastic staff clear my plates three times whilst I’m picking up items from the buffet despite my cutlery setting. The maître d’ tells me afterwards that cutlery set at quarter to three should prevent unwanted clearances! He’ll remind the waiters.
I step aboard a tender and chat to three of the showband - a trombone player from Cooperstown, NY, and guitarists from in and around Buenos Aires. They tell me that one evening they’ll play a set for ballroom dancers. I’d like to see that - maybe I’ll find someone to dance with. They’ve visited Edinburgh several times with the ship (the UK and Ireland itinerary is sailed frequently during the summer) and on today’s visit they’re hoping to find some music stores. I tell them about my latest musical discovery, gleaned from yesterday’s trivia quiz - the Japanese word that means “empty orchestra”. Twenty-five minutes of gentle bobbing along brings us to Newhaven’s harbour with its lighthouse and fish market where it certainly isn’t the forecast “Sunny, 73ºF” - it's grey and cool, but at least it’s dry.
I’m on bus 16 by noon and buy an all-day ticket for £5. I’m surprised to see that, finally, trams now run into Leith and almost to Newhaven Harbour. The bus passes a favourite Turkish café: Cafe Truva at The Shore. It’s good to see that it’s survived Covid (and, on a return trip a few weeks later, that the food is as good as I remembered it).
Having worked in Edinburgh I remember that St Giles’ Cathedral on the Royal Mile (teeming with tourists as usual, in the sunshine which is less usual) often has lunchtime concerts and I’m in good time for the 1.30pm concert (after paying my respects to Greyfriars Bobby nearby) where The Maryville College Concert Choir from Tennessee performs a varied programme including psalms, spirituals and the Skye Boat Song.
After the concert I stroll along the Royal Mile (free water dispensers? Is that something new here? It’s very commendable), pausing to watch fire crews tackle a blaze above Starbucks, before heading to Princes Street to catch a bus back towards Newhaven. We’re close to Ocean Terminal and the Royal Yacht, but I’ve been to both before, so I head for The Shore as it’s been a few years since I walked the historic and picturesque street at the end of the Water Of Leith.
In the long queue for the tender, and in the strong breeze, I chat to a couple from Alabama who met up today with their daughter and grandchildren. As a treat, they were taken to… today’s lunchtime concert at St. Giles!
It’s a bumpy ride back to the ship, accompanied by incessant safety announcements over the PA system that nobody pays attention to because it's just noise and everyone is more interested in exchanging the day’s experiences.
I’m hungry after strolling round my favourite city. Cream of potato soup? Yes, please - except the base is a chicken stock. There is also French Onion Soup (what’s wrong with British onions?) and we know what the base for that is. The maître d’ offers to have vegetarian soup made for me with 24 hours' notice. I thank him, but decline. The chefs have quite enough to do. Light rain trickles down the picture windows as we turn around in the firth and the bridges recede into the distance. As we drift away, the sun powers through thin cloud to cast a dazzling reflection across the placid water rippling in the ship's gentle wake.
Tonight’s entertainment in the Stardust Theatre is a celebration of Frank Sinatra featuring Devin, our pub vocalist, and the fine showband. Unfortunately, Devin hits an occasional flat note. I leave for the Latin music playing on stage in the Atrium, dancing cha-cha with a bubbly hostess who’s tried and failed to co-opt unwilling male colleagues. I chat with another solo traveler. She’s from Worcester, Mass and dances Latin and ballroom. I tell her about the ballroom set planned for later in the cruise. We wait in vain for the advertised bachata during the 45-minute set.
In O’Sheehan’s, I watch the last few minutes of Inter Milan beating AC Milan to reach the final of the Champions League then listen to Soul Solution’s second set of Latin music in the Atrium where one of the bar staff leads the dancing to raucous applause.

Wednesday 17 May - Invergordon (Inverness)

It's a cool, grey, dry day in the port of Invergordon and the unmanned train station is a 10-minute walk from our berth where the local information booth promises, “100% Guaranteed Sightings of ‘Nessie’… TOMORROW!” I'm fortunate to catch the 11.31 train to Inverness because the next train isn’t until 16.10. I don’t know if a bus might have been an alternative option.
"Is this the train to Inverness?" I ask, because the LED display in the carriage shows stops going in the other direction. The child protection officer opposite assures me it is, otherwise she won't be making her connection to Perth and won't be arriving home in Abernethy later this evening. She has cases as far north as Thurso whilst her colleague's extend to Orkney and Shetland. It's an extremely scenic 60-minute ride along the shores of the Moray Firth.
At the tourist information office, a few minutes stroll from the train station, I’m given an information sheet about Culloden where the 1745 Jacobite rebellion ended. I’ve been previously but remember nothing about it, during a stay at the wonderful Carbisdale Castle, sadly no longer a youth hostel due to maintenance costs. Culloden is 25 minutes away by hourly bus so a return visit will have to wait for another day. Instead, my time is spent exploring Inverness in the warm sunshine. I walk past the castle and down to the river following the suggested route of two volunteer ladies in the museum shop. The itinerary takes me past the Cavell Gardens (I’ve been unable to discover any link between the WW1 nurse and the town) through wooded paths along the river to Ness Islands thirty minutes from the town centre, across an iron footbridge and back along the other side where the visitor signpost at the Ness Brg bridge has (been?) turned through 180 degrees, so anyone who doesn’t know the town and has a train to catch is guaranteed to miss it. However, I know where the station actually is and am therefore in good time to catch the 2.50 train back to Invergordon, pausing a few moments to check in a shop window which clan I belong to (Fraser, apparently) and read about the wolves guarding the entrance to the town hall.
As I ride back, seated on the right hand side for the views, passing fields of sheep, horses and highland cattle, thick woods, the home of Ross County FC and the shoreline of the firth, I wonder how I've survived almost six hours without food; however, any calories burned during my walking tour of Inverness and subsequent short exploration of Invergordon are returned with interest after a visit to the Garden Café. (NCL please note - the corners of triangular scones quickly become stale, so round scones are better!)
Let’s see what activities there are for the rest of the day. Apart from quizzes (and the library) there’s nothing to stimulate the brain but, to the ship’s credit, a solos get-together is arranged every evening, and there’s also a daily LGBTQIA+ Meet and Greet. (I imagine the + is shorthand for the other 19 letters in the alphabet.)
I've been puzzled since the start of the cruise why I haven't seen any excursion information about Orkney. All is made clear at the front desk - we're not going there. The round-Britain itineraries this season alternate between Kirkwall and Stornaway, but don’t include both on the same trip. Oh dear! I think that's my most serious senior moment to date.
In o’Sheehan’s I watch a dominant Manchester City overwhelm Real Madrid before heading back up to the Garden Café for a crepe drizzled with a little lemon and sprinkled with a soupcon of sugar (other fillings are available - over a dozen, in fact) and just enjoy the gentle thrum of the engines as we sail on gentle waters round the top of mainland Scotland with the coast clearly visible.
Tonight’s entertainment is a little different: the showband is playing two sessions in the Grand Atrium and later, in the Bliss Lounge, there’s an Ocean Music Fest where all the pub entertainers come together on stage - and it’s very enjoyable.
Back in my cabin, first there's a loud creaking from the ceiling (something metallic seems to have worked loose) then the water is cut off - Guest Services tell me the latter is due to a cracked pipe. For the former I’m offered ear plugs after a maintenance man comes to assess the noise for himself and agrees that it’s not just the natural creak of an ocean-going vessel. It's long after 2am before I can get to bed.
Stornoway, tomorrow's port of call in the wild and beautiful Outer Hebrides, will be the undoubted highlight of the cruise: the Standing Stones of Callanish, the Lewis Chessmen, Harris Tweed... I imagine there are some on board who have waited their whole lives, and travelled halfway round the world, to finally see the remote home of their Scottish ancestors.

Thursday 18 May - Stornaway

"The captain has determined that, due to the inclement weather, we will be having a day at sea..."

Friday 19 May 2023 - Belfast

In case you’re wondering what activities were (hastily) devised to lift our deflated spirits yesterday -
11:00a Blackjack tournament (fee required)
1:00p Mojito tasting (fee required)
2:00p Wine and French Macarons (fee required)
3:00p Margarita tasting (fee required)
3:15p Bingo card sales (fee, obviously)
4:00p Wine and chocolate pairing (guess what)
The Garden Cafe girls are attempting to brighten the morning with their customary dancing whilst singing "Feeling Hot Hot Hot" - not feelings normally associated with arriving into Belfast.
Breakfast is served until 10am due to our late arrival, although I don’t know why we’re late. The islands of Ireland (and the mainland) are clearly visible through the large picture windows as, over the course of an hour, I tuck into: a Danish pastry with a cup of tea; scrambled eggs, baked beans and fried potatoes and onions with cranberry, apple juice and water; toasted bagel with butter and marmalade with a second cup of tea; cottage cheese, yogurt, granola, bircher and a little berries syrup with a third cup of tea; and a fourth cup of tea to finish. And I wonder why I'm looking a little chubby… Compared to many on this cruise; however, I'm positively anorexic. The morbid obesity of many of the American and English passengers is in stark contrast to the slim and trim appearance of those from Asia, Iberia and Australia.
Tonight the band is playing a 45-minute session of ballroom dance music. And, because our arrival has been put back until noon, has our forward-thinking cruise director thought to slip in a basic dance class. Waltz anyone? Cha-cha, perhaps? Of course not!
A guide at the cruise terminal explains that I have two bus options: there’s an hourly public bus, no. 94, from a stop a few minutes’ walk from the cruise terminal - the last one back from the town centre is at 17.05 and a day ticket is £4.79; or the frequent shuttle bus from the ship which costs £10 but runs until 7pm. I opt for the latter. Places of interest are marked for me on a map, and an overcast, dry, mild day seems ideal for walking round the compact city.
The shuttle bus stop is opposite Belfast City Hall - a beautiful Baroque Revival building, opened in 1906 and constructed in Portland stone which I hope to see in situ later in the cruise. Lots of people are enjoying a bite to eat out on the lawns and benches in the sunshine, and by impressive statues such as that of Frederick Temple, Marquess of Dufferin, Anglo-Irish aristocrat and diplomat-extraordinaire: Governer-General of Canada, Viceroy of India and ambassador at St. Petersburg, Paris, Rome and Constantinople, inter alia. I can’t look inside City Hall; though, because of a civil service strike, so I head off to explore the city, first walking down to the circular Waterfront Hall. Through large iron gates at the side of the adjacent Hilton hotel, Samson and Goliath - the iconic, yellow gantry cranes of the Harland and Wolff shipyard - are clearly visible.
The Belfast Barge, MV Confiance, a floating museum recalling the city’s maritime heritage, and the Beacon of Hope (a.k.a. Nuala With The Hula) bronze and steel sculpture by Queen’s Bridge precede the start of the Maritime Mile which starts once across the bridge, on Queen’s Quay, with a dedication to three Titanic men who made Harland and Wolff the world’s biggest shipbuilders in the early 1900s: William, Lord Pirrie, the chairman; Alexander Montgomery Carlisle, the head draughtsman; and Thomas Andrews Jr. who designed the Titanic.
I hear the Sound Yard, a playful installation designed to imitate the sounds of a shipyard, before I reach it then make a short detour to get a clear view of Samson and Goliath through wire fencing. Back on the Mile, the world’s last remaining White Star vessel, the dry-docked SS Nomadic, which served as a tender to the Titanic’s passengers, precedes the Titanic Belfast visitor attraction resembling four giant prows, and behind which are the slipways of the Titanic and the Olympic.
I head back to City Hall at a leisurely pace via the Albert Clock dating from 1869 which, due to subsidence, has a lean of 1.25 meters from the vertical, hence a local wag’s observation that the clock “… has both the time and the inclination.”
There’s one last attraction I want to visit - the ornate Crown Liquor Saloon, built by Italian craftsman in the 1880s (in town to build some local churches), with its elaborate tiling, stained glass and carved woodwork. It’s a short walk from City Hall and is situated in the Linen Quarter, but it’s far too crowded for me to stop a while and have a drink, so I just take a photo. It’s so blurred it looks as if I have been drinking. Why didn’t I take another one?
On the shuttle bus back to the ship I chat with a guy from the DC area who tells me he only ever goes into town when he has visitors. We speculate as to what the immense blades stacked horizontally a few yards away from the ship might be. As I get off the bus, the driver tells me they’re for wind turbines - the cruise terminal is being moved closer to the mouth of the River Lagan, enlarged to accommodate more cruise ships, and the area where we are now is to become a wind farm.
There’s a self-led Shabbat service from 6-7pm in the Bangkok room where a table has been covered with a white tablecloth upon which has been laid prayer books, head coverings, wine, juice, braided loaves, and beetroot and horseradish source. Attendees include a Torontonian who grew up in Miraflores (Lima’s bohemian quarter) and her adopted Chinese daughter who was abandoned as a baby. Kudos to NCL for having this as a feature of their cruises.
There's barely a ripple on the water as we glide out of Belfast and along the coast where lights twinkle in the dusk, and out into the Irish Sea.

Saturday 20 May 2023 - Liverpool

It’s a sunny, warm morning as I stroll around an almost empty upper deck and point out The Three Graces (the Royal Liver, Cunard and Port of Liverpool buildings) to an unnervingly polite, elderly couple from Texas who insist on calling me “sir”, but I don't mention I filmed there recently (as a TV extra for a political drama). They’re taking a ship’s excursion to Chester. An excellent choice, I tell them - a fine city with part of the Roman walls being accessible to those of limited mobility.
There’s nothing I’m particularly interested in doing today - I’m only a couple of hours from home. I disembark a little before noon - amidships, deck 4 - and take a couple of selfies with the elegant Norwegian Star in the background. At the pier head is a monument conceived as a Titanic memorial, “In honour of all heroes of the marine engine room” who stayed at their posts so others could survive. “Liverpool World Heritage City”; however, is no longer true because the city was stripped of its UNESCO status in 2021 due to over-development of the waterfront.
Walking to the nearby Albert Dock, I pass various war-related memorials: to Chinese merchant seaman who served Britain during both world wars; to the (home) merchant navy; to Canadian citizens, represented by maple trees from their government; and a propeller from the Lusitania. Beyond the statue to local pop icon Billy Fury is Floating Earth by artist Luke Jerram which uses detailed NASA imagery of the Earth, and uses the water of the dock as a natural mirror to the temporary installation.
It’s too far for me in the heat to visit either of the city’s cathedrals so, staying centrally, I head in the direction of the Cavern Club, pausing at the statue to the Beatles’ erstwhile manager, Brian Epstein, who managed other stellar acts such as Cilla Black and Gerry and the Pacemakers. There are, of course, large crowds milling outside the club, opposite which is Eric’s where Talking Heads, The Police, The Ramones and others once played. From there, further wandering brings me to the neo-Baroque Queen Victoria Monument in Derby Square, built over the former site of Liverpool Castle.
Passing the Beatles’ sculpture back on the waterfront (they’re also just out for a stroll, although today they don’t need their coats) I stop to admire Heaven & Earth - a telescope sculpture celebrating the life and works of the 17th century astronomer, Jeremiah Horrocks from Liverpool who was the first person to accurately calculate the transit of Venus. In the sunshine I find a spot to rest on the waterfront and read about him on the internet.
At eight o’clock, with the light beginning to fade, I go out on deck as we drift away from the city and down the Mersey. It’s sad that there’s no live music for these sailaways.
After the Soul Rockin’ Nights show in the Stardust Theatre, our cruise director announces, "I just want to give you an important information." Apparently, Isha’s been too busy to visit the library.
As usual, the rest of the evening is spent drifting from the Grand Atrium to Gatsby’s to the Bliss Lounge listening to different genres of popular music

Sunday 21 May 2023 - Dun Laoghaire (Dublin)

I watch some of the tender operation - passengers booked on shore excursions heading off to Dun Laoghaire - before a leisurely breakfast, although I’ve given up on Danish pastries since I glimpsed rotundity in the bathroom mirror. Despite leaving my knife and fork set at a quarter to three, my table is yet again cleared and my second bagel thrown away whilst I'm getting a refill of hot water. Service charges can be adjusted a couple of days before the end of the cruise and, because it's happened five times now, and each time I'm assured it won't happen again, I will reduce it by $5 to $15 per day.
I’m off the ship by 11am and chat with a guy from Brisbane on the tender. We share near-miss experiences: he nearly missed his ship in Cambodia and my closest call was in Gibraltar.
Friendly, relaxed, droll HoHo guys by the waterfront sell me a €30 day ticket which includes the €5 return DART train ticket to Dublin. I’m advised to do a round trip to live commentary (the hop-on-hop-off buses alternate between live and recorded commentary) to first get a feel for the city. A few minutes later I catch the noon train for what proves to be a scenic ride along the bay into Dublin, getting off at Pearse station where a HoHo girl at the station entrance directs people to the bus stop opposite. She tells me that a bus ride all the way round takes about 90 minutes. I’ll try that and see how I am for time.
The informative driver with his well-practiced patter is a fine guide as we drive past Trinity College, the home of The Book of Kells; Temple Bar and City Hall; Dublin Castle; the Guinness Brewery with its iconic St. James’s Gate; and through the immense Phoenix Park (twice the size of New York’s Central Park). Some of the sites we pass by in the park include the monument to local boy, the Duke of Wellington; the Phoenix monument (although the park is named for a body of water rather than a mythical bird); the US embassy; Dublin Zoo (the home of the original MGM lion); the official residence of the Irish President; and the Papal Cross.
The contrast between the English Blackpool and the Irish Black Pool (Dubh Linh) is striking: the former, with its soiled seafront spattered with a mile or more of manure from the daily droppings of trotting horses pulling garish carriages along the promenade, and the latter - clean and welcoming.
Where’s a good place to experience an Irish coffee? There are plenty of bars along the River Liffey but the bus driver recommends Kennedys close by the statue of Oscar Wilde which is the last stop before my starting point at Pearse Street. Excellent! The colourful Oscar Wilde Monument is in the corner of Merrion Square Park opposite the house in which the Wilde family lived, and a three-minute walk away in the direction of Pearse Station is Kennedys. The bar is famous for its literary clientele, including Wilde (who used to work there as a boy, stacking shelves), Joyce and Yeats, and I watch as the barman pours coffee, sugar, Tullamore Dew and a collar of cream into a classic glass. €8? Is that expensive, or a sign that I don’t frequent bars very often? I linger, savouring every delicious sip.
I pass more sites such as the birthplace of the Duke of Wellington, intending to get off the bus near the castle and walk down to the river, but I’m running out of time (the last tender back to the ship is at 6pm) so walk back to the station and listen to a pianist entertaining us until the train arrives.
I have half an hour to look around Dun Laoghaire before joining the queue for the tenders where it doesn’t matter how much you paid for your cabin, you still have to stand and wait in the democratic line. I board a tender at 6pm, but there are three more coachloads yet to arrive, and eavesdrop on an elderly Canadian couple trying to explain the difference between the city of Vancouver and Vancouver Island to a young Spanish couple. I suppose it is confusing that the city isn’t actually on the island.
Tonight there’s grilled hake (topped with finely diced vegetables and pineapple) instead of tilapia 48 ways. Dessert is pina colada cream cake where I can taste neither pina nor colada, perhaps due to the slice of cheddar jalapeno cornbread I had before dessert having converted my taste buds to taste duds.
Well, frankly, this is ridiculous… The first of tonight’s featured entertainment is the Speed Trivia Gameshow at 8pm in the Bliss Lounge - how many questions can you answer in 30 seconds? The answer is - hardly any, because our MC stumbles repeatedly in his efforts to ask rapid fire questions in English.
There's Latin music in the Grand Atrium and much enthusiastic audience participation in the chorus of the unofficial Mexican national anthem, Cielito Lindo, but because my singing doesn't gladden any hearts, my contribution is barely audible even to me.
It’s very curious that at night-time it's the port side of the Garden Café that vibrates rather than starboard - my late evening plum cobbler is more of a plum wobbler.
The DJ seems as limited in his playlist as the entertainment staff in their English - tracks such as Fireball, Born This Way and Can't Stop The Feeling seem to be played every night. That's probably why a packed Bliss Lounge with a packed dance floor from the ABBAlicious Party at 10.45pm becomes an almost empty lounge with 6 people on the dance floor ten minutes later.

Monday 22 May 2023 - Cobh (Cork)

I’ve followed the trail of Captain Cook across the South and North Pacific, the trail of pirates in the Caribbean and the South China Sea, and today allows me to complete my own Titanic trail by arriving in Queenstown (as Cobh was known then), her final port of call before setting out on her fateful maiden voyage.
By 8.30 the coaches for the shore excursionists are lined up by the dock, behind which is the little train station. Cobh looks very pretty, but a short (10-minute) walk past pastel-coloured buildings down to the bandstand in Kennedy Park, and a short reflection at the Lusitania Peace Memorial, will suffice for the moment - I’ll save exploration for later, depending on how much time is left after visiting Cork.
I doubt I’m the first person to confuse the entrance to the Cobh Heritage Centre with the entrance to the train station (outside and to the left), and I catch the 11am train (a day ticket costs €6.90) arriving in Cork half an hour later, after a scenic ride along the River Lee and across Lough Mahon. At the station is a memorial to Thomas Kent, after whom the station is named, who was, “Executed by British armed forces at Victoria Barracks now Cork Prison 9th May 1916.”
During my half-hour walk into town in the warm sunshine, searching for the tourist information office, I pause at Paddy Torino’s / City Grill, outside which is an extensive dedication to the great man himself - father of thirty-two children, honorary member of the Rat Pack, captain of the Italian soccer team at the Berlin Olympics, fighter pilot and national hunt champion jockey. I imagine he also owned nearby Blarney Castle.
At the tourist information office, places of interest are marked out for me and I head back across St. Patrick’s Bridge and the north channel of the river up towards the Butter Museum and the nearby Shandon Bells and Tower. On the way back down I pass the birthplace of sportsman and politician Jack Lynch, twice Taoiseach during the 1960s and 70s.
The quiet of the hilly, north side is replaced by the teeming crowds of the flatter, south side with shops and restaurants along the streets and quays of the south channel, through which I meander to Elizabeth Fort, first built in 1601. It was a Jacobite stronghold during the Williamite War, an army barracks, and a prison with many inmates incarcerated prior to transportation. The stories of the prisoners, mostly women who became founding mothers of modern-day Australia and who stayed on after their sentence because they couldn’t afford the journey back to Ireland, are harrowing and fascinating.
Just before reaching the train station I come across the former offices of the St. George Steam Packet Company, owners of the steamship Sirius which was the first ship to cross the Atlantic entirely under steam. Newspapers reported that her fuel ran out before reaching New York but her captain, determined to complete the passage under steam, declined to hoist the ship’s sails and, instead, fed spars into the furnace. True or not, the story inspired the famous episode in Jules Verne’s Around The World In Eighty Days.
Catching the 3pm train back to Cobh gives me plenty of time to explore the colourful island town, replicating my earlier walk but also exploring side streets and listening to some terrible live music outside The Mauretania bar. Back at the Annie More statue right by the ship’s ropes (she was the very first immigrant to be processed at Ellis Island, on New Year’s Eve 1891, aged just 17) four locals in elegant period costume pose for photographs.
It’s a very scenic sailaway through the harbour channels, passing the whitewashed buildings of Roache’s Point Lighthouse and out into the Celtic Sea - a perfect evening for a sailway deck party but, of course, there isn’t one.
I have a chat with Ramon, one of the musicians I chatted with on the tender into Newhaven, before the showband's first session of the evening in the Atrium begins. His contract is until September when it'll be spring back home and this is his second year with NCL - last year he was also on the Dawn.
As compensation for missing Stornaway and the late arrival in Belfast, $100 on-board credit per cabin has been granted. Drinks, chocolates, shore excursions, clothes (was there really nobody in NCL marketing who questioned whether emblazoning everything with “Hooked On Cruising” was a good idea?), watches, jewellery, flasks… I buy a box of Lindt chocolate squares for $22 from the on-board shop just before it closes
The ship’s Glow Party at 10.45pm in the Bliss Lounge is a desultory affair. A few passengers are wearing white and/or neon, the entertainment staff are working hard, but the atmosphere and music have no (ahem!) sparkle.

Tuesday 23 May 2023 - Portland (Weymouth)

I gaze out the large café windows watching as the Portland Pilot boat guides us slowly in on a calm, clear morning. By 11am the ship is tied up. On the adjacent dock is the MS Deutschland. This was the ship that passengers departing Paris aboard the ill-fated Air France Concorde Flight, on 25 July 2000, had been due to join on arrival in New York.
There are frequent, complimentary shuttle buses to Portland Castle continuing on to Weymouth six miles away. From the upper deck I get my first sighting of the sweeping Chesil Beach, part of the UNESCO World Heritage listed Jurassic Coast.
From where we are dropped off it’s a pleasant 10-minute walk into town, past the pedestrianised Brewer’s Quay (taking care not to get run over by the land train), along the harbour (the estuary of the river Wey) with its colourful houses, and over the town bridge. I can’t see any signs for tourist information. The museum ladies locking up at 1pm explain, with a smile of resignation, that there isn’t one. A holiday hotspot in the middle of the world-famous Jurassic Coast doesn’t have a tourist information centre? Dear me!
Now that I’ve (sort of) got my bearings, I want to go back to Portland, renowned for its limestone (used in world-famous buildings such as Buckingham Palace and the UN headquarters in New York) and its lighthouse. The driver of bus no. 1 from the King's Statue (George III, since you asked, who holidayed for many years in Weymouth at the turn of the 18th century) tells me that, from the closest bus stop on Portland, it will be about a half-hour walk down to the lighthouse. It’s a lovely day and, with an all-aboard time of 7.30pm, I’ll have time to visit and explore Weymouth town afterwards.
The 30-minute bus ride shows me that Portland is a sizeable town, not just a nature reserve and as we climb higher I get even better views of the expanse of Chesil Beach. At my pace, and with my failed attempt at a shortcut, it’s closer to a 40-minute walk down to the lighthouse and visitor centre. Beyond, closer to the shoreline, is: an obelisk built of Portland stone which served as a navigational aid before the lighthouse was built; and Pulpit Rock, a quarrying relic.
I don’t fancy an uphill walk back to the bus stop in the heat of a sunny afternoon and manage to get a lift with a kind family from Birmingham. By half past four I’m back at the George III statue (and a replica of the royal bathing machine) on the esplanade. I walk through narrow town streets, pausing on the town bridge to watch rowers along the estuary, and back to where the shuttle bus waits.
Do I hear singing? There’s a girl threesome in matching print dresses with pink bows in their hair down on the dock, and a small crowd gathers on the promenade deck 7 to listen to swing and jive classics. It’s a lovely interlude and shows what the ship should be doing for every sailaway. Sadly, I don’t have anyone to dance with.
At eight o’clock we slowly drift away from our final port of call then it’s back to the cabin to pack. I won’t put my case out tonight, preferring to take it tomorrow myself so I can disembark at relative leisure. Once packed, I pop in to listen to some of the entertainment on offer this evening, including The Rat Pack Returns With Glenn Macnamara, before reducing my service charges to $15 because my cutlery signals continue to be ignored.

Wednesday 24 May 2023

Disembarking does prove to be much more relaxed when I take my own luggage. After breakfast, I say goodbye to my cabin steward, showing my appreciation in the traditional manner, disembark at 8.45 and walk back to the train station.
Well, I didn’t manage to spend much of my on-board credit and, socially, as a solo passenger, the cruise has been a failure, but the cruise has granted me a temporary remission from various health problems which is much more important.

[YVRteacher]

You reduced your daily service charge because your plates in the Garden Cafe were cleared away?

[stefmaia]

This review actually annoyed me.

 

Judgemental much?

 

Would have been a good review if you hadn't made so many nasty snide remarks.

 

I hope you fixed the signpost, or at least attempted to, or are you too good for that too?

[mugtech]

14 minutes ago, stefmaia said:

This review actually annoyed me.

 

Judgemental much?

 

Would have been a good review if you hadn't made so many nasty snide remarks.

 

I hope you fixed the signpost, or at least attempted to, or are you too good for that too?

Glad I did not waste any time reading this review, thanks for the heads up,not interested to sail the Dawn in any event.

[fruitmachine]

1 hour ago, JakTar said:

I’ve been previously but remember nothing about it, during a stay at the wonderful Carbisdale Castle, sadly no longer a youth hostel due to maintenance costs.

You may be interested in this article on the BBC website only yesterday: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-highlands-islands-66580082

[yakcruiser]

Unfortunately this review just reinforces the stereotype of the English amongst most North Americans who have never been to England.

[surfone]

3 hours ago, JakTar said:

This is the diary of a solo passenger’s 10-night springtime cruise around the UK and Ireland aboard the Norwegian Dawn. After 20-something cruises, and none since the pandemic, the opportunity to see my home islands from a new perspective has proved irresistible. These days the Dawn is probably considered a mid-sized ship even though she can carry almost as many passengers as the Queen Mary II. It may be of interest to those contemplating a similar cruise…

Sunday 14 May 2023 - Southampton

The 68 bus from Euston Station to Waterloo Station across the river is an easier and more scenic option than dragging a case through the Underground (and perhaps even quicker) and my train to Southampton is running to schedule. From there, it’s a relatively easy, 15-minute, suitcase-wheeling walk past the police station and along Southern Road to Dock Gate 10 and the Horizon Terminal where the Norwegian Dawn is waiting in bright sunshine.
I drop off my suitcase outside the terminal prior to a quick check-in (I didn’t need to download an app or print off documentation or labels - just show my passport and give my booking reference) then, with keycard in hand, I go off to find my inside cabin on Deck 10 where fine, pencil artwork of world-famous buildings such as St. Peter's Basilica lines the corridors. My cabin is roomy and clean with a decent-sized bathroom comprising shower, sink and toilet. Initial impressions of my home for the next ten days are good. With my copy of the Freestyle Daily newsletter in hand, I set off in search of something to eat to the accompaniment of incessant, repetitive announcements which rapidly become background noise and are barely comprehensible in public spaces.
After locating my assembly station and attending the safety drill I head off to the Garden Café on Deck 12 where there won’t be any playing chicken with the automatic doors leading to the pool area because they don’t open until a couple of seconds after you actually reach them. 24-hour hot and cold drinks are available from the café but the buffet isn’t open yet. (According to the Freestyle Daily, it closed at 3.30pm and will re-open at 5pm.) However, the poolside burger bar has banana and vanilla loaf cake which, with a cup of tea, will be fine for the moment. I now face a common problem on cruise ships - how to indicate that I haven’t finished with my cutlery and crockery. Holland America? That’s a napkin on the chair back. Cunard? That’s two pieces of cutlery set at quarter to three, or a single piece at quarter past three. Alternatively, carry around a sheet of paper on which is written “Please do NOT clear this ~#£$&?* table!!!” I’ll experiment with the cutlery option.
At 6pm there’s a Solo Travellers Meet in The Cellars wine bar where an enthusiastic social host a third of our age acts as facilitator. Whilst one of our number, a domineering American woman, tries to organise numbers for a meal tonight in the Venetian Dining Room (A table for ten? For tonight? She’ll be lucky, but our facilitator will try), I corner the host before he can call the Maitre d’ and get him to explain “Freestyle”. There really isn’t anything to explain: there’s no assigned dining so you eat where you want when you want, assuming there’s room, or eat in the Garden Café. I go and search out some of the various restaurants which are all very busy, seem rather claustrophobic and have long queues outside. No, thanks.
In the (very) Grand Atrium spanning decks 7 to 10, there’s live Latin music from Soul Solution playing the first of their two 45-minute sets this evening with people dancing up at o'Sheehans (i.e. oceans) Bar and Grill on deck 8 which overlooks the atrium.
I go up to the Garden Café and enjoy various delicious breads with onion soup, looking out of the large picture windows across the calm waters of the Solent and afterwards, from the vast selection set across several stations, I take some grilled mahi mahi, rice and vegetables, and also two slices of banana cake to be saved for later as it’s after eight o’clock and tonight’s single-performance show has already started.
The large Stardust Theatre spans decks 6 and 7 forward and on stage is Kircaldy’s own Glenn Owen McNamara from The Rat Pack - Swinging At The Sands. He’s good, very good, and I don’t even care much for swing and the big band sound. Classics outside the Rat Pack repertoire include Mona Lisa which, amazingly, was originally a B-side. There’s also excellent backing from the Norwegian Dawn’s showband (I hesitate calling a 7-piece outfit, no matter how talented, an “orchestra”).
After looking in on the quiet Welcome Aboard party in the Bliss Lounge on Deck 7 aft I find things much livelier in Gatsby’s bar where vocalist Devin Provenzano from New York, accompanying himself on the guitar, sings crowd favourites such as Delilah, 500 Miles and The Fields of Athenrye.
I feel compelled to try something from the late night menu at o'Sheehans and plump for the apple pie and ice cream. Disappointingly, there’s far too much apple to pie and the apple is bland instead of being Bramley sharp. After tea after midnight in the Garden Café, I check with Guest Services (where the queues stretching twice round the ship and back to Southampton have finally disappeared) the amount of the service charge - it’s $20 per person per day. Ouch!
The ship is steady as I head for bed at 00.45am and notice the time on my phone has gone back one hour. I’ll have to set the time zone manually.

Monday 15 May - At Sea

The cabin seems quiet - no creaks from any fittings and no noise from neighbouring cabins. I get up at 9am to see what a day at sea holds in store. The tip of the day in the Freestyle Daily is very useful: “Trying to find the front of the ship? Look at the floor & follow the fish, they always swim forward.” The front page also explains that, “With no set dining times and no seat assignments, you can dine on your time and not on a schedule.” As a solo passenger, I’d prefer a schedule - being seated with other solo diners, not all of whom would necessarily be at the daily meet.
Unsurprisingly, it’s busy up in the Garden Café but eventually I find a table for two with views out to a calm, misty North Sea, aptly named because we're at sea and sailing north. A couple of middle-aged Americans sit at the next table, shouting at each other in what presumably passes for normal conversation across the pond. An elderly English lady joins them and asks in a barely discernible voice where they're from. "Oh, I'm from Noo Jersey, but my grandmother was from Scaaaatland," screams the larger of the two women, in a voice that could be heard in her ancestral home.
I move away to a table by the picture windows where the engine vibration gives me a complimentary massage of the kind usually only experienced in establishments of dubious repute - allegedly. During breakfast, waiters repeatedly (and irritatingly) try and take my used plates and cups away when I’m still using them.
At 11 o’clock in the Grand Atrium there’s a Port [sic] of Call trivia quiz. I watch on. St James’ brewery made Guinness? Well, you live and learn. Nearby, an elderly Portuguese woman speaks her text message and WhatsApp types it out! Well, you live and learn.
At noon it’s the captain's update: 326 nautical miles to Newhaven where tomorrow's forecast is for sunny skies. Barometric pressure, sea temperature, wave height…. The usual rigmarole. It’s followed by the cruise director’s what's-happening announcement which includes misuse of the article. Further misuse follows when she announces that, due to technical difficulties in the Stardust Theatre, Deal Or No Deal this afternoon is cancelled but will be happening, "in the coming future days." Perhaps Isha, with her unexpectedly free time, could avail herself of a grammar book, if such is to be found in the small library which I locate beyond the open air pool. My eyes alight on How Not To Die by Michael Greger. Are the secrets of immortality within my grasp - just as soon as the library book checkout re-opens at 3pm? Sadly not. A closer look reveals the tome to be the rather more prosaic “How Not To Diet”; advice seemingly taken up with gusto judging by the size of many of my fellow passengers.
The Garden Cafe offers two soups for lunch but, disappointingly, neither is vegetarian - after checking with one of the chefs, I learn that a chicken stock was used for both. Perhaps I should have checked last night before having the onion soup. I suggest to the restaurant manager that the food labels need amending with a "v" to indicate vegetarian. Domenica says she'll take it up with the food and beverage manager.
At the 70s Party Line Dance Class at 1.45, classics such asYMCA and the Electric Slide are taught. It’s an opportunity to socialize as a solo passenger but the small dance floor in the Bliss Lounge is packed to overflowing so I watch on as do many others. After listening to live music in the Atrium I return to the lounge for the quiz an hour later, scoring a lowly 12 out of 20 in my team of one. Fancy forgetting two of the four Hogwarts houses - the two that rhyme: Gryffindor and Ravenclaw!
I chat with my cabin steward. He has 23 cabins to clean - a mix of inside and balcony - and is one of a team of 58, down from the pre-pandemic level of 120, which is why there's no turndown service in the evening. His day starts at 8am and finishes at 6pm.
A light snack follows in the Garden Café, looking beyond a group of 10 sociable Portuguese speakers, making far less noise across their two tables than this morning's American annoyance, to a calm sea shimmering in the sunshine. It looks so inviting that I go for a stroll round the pool deck and the upper decks, still trying to get my bearings.
I don’t bother with the 5pm Solo Travelers Meet, preferring to look down at the small space that is Gatsby's which is packed for Latin Bland (an unfortunate typo) with passengers up and dancing.
Isn’t there a more romantic setting than the theatre toilet to tell someone, “I love you”?
“Love you too,” says the guy’s partner as he’s about to use the facilities, but she didn't sound like she meant it.
After watching some of the aerial acrobatics provided by a young Ukranian couple, I return to the Garden Café for a cup of tea and a couple of slices of the extremely more-ish cinnamon raisin bread prior to listening to an enjoyable, 45-minute Country/Americana set from Devin in the Grand Atrium. I wonder how many songs he has in his repertoire.

Tuesday 16 May - Newhaven (Edinburgh)

We've anchored offshore, in the Firth of Forth, with fine views to the island of Inchkeith and the Forth Bridges. There’s a text from my dentist to remind me about Thursday’s appointment. Oops. I try and rearrange it but a shouty American woman deafening a poolside bartender makes my phone call impossible. I search for a less noisy environment.
The vibrations on the starboard side of the Garden Café are very uncomfortable so I move over to the port side where all is calm, and watch the tenders running between the ship and the dock. During breakfast, the over-enthusiastic staff clear my plates three times whilst I’m picking up items from the buffet despite my cutlery setting. The maître d’ tells me afterwards that cutlery set at quarter to three should prevent unwanted clearances! He’ll remind the waiters.
I step aboard a tender and chat to three of the showband - a trombone player from Cooperstown, NY, and guitarists from in and around Buenos Aires. They tell me that one evening they’ll play a set for ballroom dancers. I’d like to see that - maybe I’ll find someone to dance with. They’ve visited Edinburgh several times with the ship (the UK and Ireland itinerary is sailed frequently during the summer) and on today’s visit they’re hoping to find some music stores. I tell them about my latest musical discovery, gleaned from yesterday’s trivia quiz - the Japanese word that means “empty orchestra”. Twenty-five minutes of gentle bobbing along brings us to Newhaven’s harbour with its lighthouse and fish market where it certainly isn’t the forecast “Sunny, 73ºF” - it's grey and cool, but at least it’s dry.
I’m on bus 16 by noon and buy an all-day ticket for £5. I’m surprised to see that, finally, trams now run into Leith and almost to Newhaven Harbour. The bus passes a favourite Turkish café: Cafe Truva at The Shore. It’s good to see that it’s survived Covid (and, on a return trip a few weeks later, that the food is as good as I remembered it).
Having worked in Edinburgh I remember that St Giles’ Cathedral on the Royal Mile (teeming with tourists as usual, in the sunshine which is less usual) often has lunchtime concerts and I’m in good time for the 1.30pm concert (after paying my respects to Greyfriars Bobby nearby) where The Maryville College Concert Choir from Tennessee performs a varied programme including psalms, spirituals and the Skye Boat Song.
After the concert I stroll along the Royal Mile (free water dispensers? Is that something new here? It’s very commendable), pausing to watch fire crews tackle a blaze above Starbucks, before heading to Princes Street to catch a bus back towards Newhaven. We’re close to Ocean Terminal and the Royal Yacht, but I’ve been to both before, so I head for The Shore as it’s been a few years since I walked the historic and picturesque street at the end of the Water Of Leith.
In the long queue for the tender, and in the strong breeze, I chat to a couple from Alabama who met up today with their daughter and grandchildren. As a treat, they were taken to… today’s lunchtime concert at St. Giles!
It’s a bumpy ride back to the ship, accompanied by incessant safety announcements over the PA system that nobody pays attention to because it's just noise and everyone is more interested in exchanging the day’s experiences.
I’m hungry after strolling round my favourite city. Cream of potato soup? Yes, please - except the base is a chicken stock. There is also French Onion Soup (what’s wrong with British onions?) and we know what the base for that is. The maître d’ offers to have vegetarian soup made for me with 24 hours' notice. I thank him, but decline. The chefs have quite enough to do. Light rain trickles down the picture windows as we turn around in the firth and the bridges recede into the distance. As we drift away, the sun powers through thin cloud to cast a dazzling reflection across the placid water rippling in the ship's gentle wake.
Tonight’s entertainment in the Stardust Theatre is a celebration of Frank Sinatra featuring Devin, our pub vocalist, and the fine showband. Unfortunately, Devin hits an occasional flat note. I leave for the Latin music playing on stage in the Atrium, dancing cha-cha with a bubbly hostess who’s tried and failed to co-opt unwilling male colleagues. I chat with another solo traveler. She’s from Worcester, Mass and dances Latin and ballroom. I tell her about the ballroom set planned for later in the cruise. We wait in vain for the advertised bachata during the 45-minute set.
In O’Sheehan’s, I watch the last few minutes of Inter Milan beating AC Milan to reach the final of the Champions League then listen to Soul Solution’s second set of Latin music in the Atrium where one of the bar staff leads the dancing to raucous applause.

Wednesday 17 May - Invergordon (Inverness)

It's a cool, grey, dry day in the port of Invergordon and the unmanned train station is a 10-minute walk from our berth where the local information booth promises, “100% Guaranteed Sightings of ‘Nessie’… TOMORROW!” I'm fortunate to catch the 11.31 train to Inverness because the next train isn’t until 16.10. I don’t know if a bus might have been an alternative option.
"Is this the train to Inverness?" I ask, because the LED display in the carriage shows stops going in the other direction. The child protection officer opposite assures me it is, otherwise she won't be making her connection to Perth and won't be arriving home in Abernethy later this evening. She has cases as far north as Thurso whilst her colleague's extend to Orkney and Shetland. It's an extremely scenic 60-minute ride along the shores of the Moray Firth.
At the tourist information office, a few minutes stroll from the train station, I’m given an information sheet about Culloden where the 1745 Jacobite rebellion ended. I’ve been previously but remember nothing about it, during a stay at the wonderful Carbisdale Castle, sadly no longer a youth hostel due to maintenance costs. Culloden is 25 minutes away by hourly bus so a return visit will have to wait for another day. Instead, my time is spent exploring Inverness in the warm sunshine. I walk past the castle and down to the river following the suggested route of two volunteer ladies in the museum shop. The itinerary takes me past the Cavell Gardens (I’ve been unable to discover any link between the WW1 nurse and the town) through wooded paths along the river to Ness Islands thirty minutes from the town centre, across an iron footbridge and back along the other side where the visitor signpost at the Ness Brg bridge has (been?) turned through 180 degrees, so anyone who doesn’t know the town and has a train to catch is guaranteed to miss it. However, I know where the station actually is and am therefore in good time to catch the 2.50 train back to Invergordon, pausing a few moments to check in a shop window which clan I belong to (Fraser, apparently) and read about the wolves guarding the entrance to the town hall.
As I ride back, seated on the right hand side for the views, passing fields of sheep, horses and highland cattle, thick woods, the home of Ross County FC and the shoreline of the firth, I wonder how I've survived almost six hours without food; however, any calories burned during my walking tour of Inverness and subsequent short exploration of Invergordon are returned with interest after a visit to the Garden Café. (NCL please note - the corners of triangular scones quickly become stale, so round scones are better!)
Let’s see what activities there are for the rest of the day. Apart from quizzes (and the library) there’s nothing to stimulate the brain but, to the ship’s credit, a solos get-together is arranged every evening, and there’s also a daily LGBTQIA+ Meet and Greet. (I imagine the + is shorthand for the other 19 letters in the alphabet.)
I've been puzzled since the start of the cruise why I haven't seen any excursion information about Orkney. All is made clear at the front desk - we're not going there. The round-Britain itineraries this season alternate between Kirkwall and Stornaway, but don’t include both on the same trip. Oh dear! I think that's my most serious senior moment to date.
In o’Sheehan’s I watch a dominant Manchester City overwhelm Real Madrid before heading back up to the Garden Café for a crepe drizzled with a little lemon and sprinkled with a soupcon of sugar (other fillings are available - over a dozen, in fact) and just enjoy the gentle thrum of the engines as we sail on gentle waters round the top of mainland Scotland with the coast clearly visible.
Tonight’s entertainment is a little different: the showband is playing two sessions in the Grand Atrium and later, in the Bliss Lounge, there’s an Ocean Music Fest where all the pub entertainers come together on stage - and it’s very enjoyable.
Back in my cabin, first there's a loud creaking from the ceiling (something metallic seems to have worked loose) then the water is cut off - Guest Services tell me the latter is due to a cracked pipe. For the former I’m offered ear plugs after a maintenance man comes to assess the noise for himself and agrees that it’s not just the natural creak of an ocean-going vessel. It's long after 2am before I can get to bed.
Stornoway, tomorrow's port of call in the wild and beautiful Outer Hebrides, will be the undoubted highlight of the cruise: the Standing Stones of Callanish, the Lewis Chessmen, Harris Tweed... I imagine there are some on board who have waited their whole lives, and travelled halfway round the world, to finally see the remote home of their Scottish ancestors.

Thursday 18 May - Stornaway

"The captain has determined that, due to the inclement weather, we will be having a day at sea..."

Friday 19 May 2023 - Belfast

In case you’re wondering what activities were (hastily) devised to lift our deflated spirits yesterday -
11:00a Blackjack tournament (fee required)
1:00p Mojito tasting (fee required)
2:00p Wine and French Macarons (fee required)
3:00p Margarita tasting (fee required)
3:15p Bingo card sales (fee, obviously)
4:00p Wine and chocolate pairing (guess what)
The Garden Cafe girls are attempting to brighten the morning with their customary dancing whilst singing "Feeling Hot Hot Hot" - not feelings normally associated with arriving into Belfast.
Breakfast is served until 10am due to our late arrival, although I don’t know why we’re late. The islands of Ireland (and the mainland) are clearly visible through the large picture windows as, over the course of an hour, I tuck into: a Danish pastry with a cup of tea; scrambled eggs, baked beans and fried potatoes and onions with cranberry, apple juice and water; toasted bagel with butter and marmalade with a second cup of tea; cottage cheese, yogurt, granola, bircher and a little berries syrup with a third cup of tea; and a fourth cup of tea to finish. And I wonder why I'm looking a little chubby… Compared to many on this cruise; however, I'm positively anorexic. The morbid obesity of many of the American and English passengers is in stark contrast to the slim and trim appearance of those from Asia, Iberia and Australia.
Tonight the band is playing a 45-minute session of ballroom dance music. And, because our arrival has been put back until noon, has our forward-thinking cruise director thought to slip in a basic dance class. Waltz anyone? Cha-cha, perhaps? Of course not!
A guide at the cruise terminal explains that I have two bus options: there’s an hourly public bus, no. 94, from a stop a few minutes’ walk from the cruise terminal - the last one back from the town centre is at 17.05 and a day ticket is £4.79; or the frequent shuttle bus from the ship which costs £10 but runs until 7pm. I opt for the latter. Places of interest are marked for me on a map, and an overcast, dry, mild day seems ideal for walking round the compact city.
The shuttle bus stop is opposite Belfast City Hall - a beautiful Baroque Revival building, opened in 1906 and constructed in Portland stone which I hope to see in situ later in the cruise. Lots of people are enjoying a bite to eat out on the lawns and benches in the sunshine, and by impressive statues such as that of Frederick Temple, Marquess of Dufferin, Anglo-Irish aristocrat and diplomat-extraordinaire: Governer-General of Canada, Viceroy of India and ambassador at St. Petersburg, Paris, Rome and Constantinople, inter alia. I can’t look inside City Hall; though, because of a civil service strike, so I head off to explore the city, first walking down to the circular Waterfront Hall. Through large iron gates at the side of the adjacent Hilton hotel, Samson and Goliath - the iconic, yellow gantry cranes of the Harland and Wolff shipyard - are clearly visible.
The Belfast Barge, MV Confiance, a floating museum recalling the city’s maritime heritage, and the Beacon of Hope (a.k.a. Nuala With The Hula) bronze and steel sculpture by Queen’s Bridge precede the start of the Maritime Mile which starts once across the bridge, on Queen’s Quay, with a dedication to three Titanic men who made Harland and Wolff the world’s biggest shipbuilders in the early 1900s: William, Lord Pirrie, the chairman; Alexander Montgomery Carlisle, the head draughtsman; and Thomas Andrews Jr. who designed the Titanic.
I hear the Sound Yard, a playful installation designed to imitate the sounds of a shipyard, before I reach it then make a short detour to get a clear view of Samson and Goliath through wire fencing. Back on the Mile, the world’s last remaining White Star vessel, the dry-docked SS Nomadic, which served as a tender to the Titanic’s passengers, precedes the Titanic Belfast visitor attraction resembling four giant prows, and behind which are the slipways of the Titanic and the Olympic.
I head back to City Hall at a leisurely pace via the Albert Clock dating from 1869 which, due to subsidence, has a lean of 1.25 meters from the vertical, hence a local wag’s observation that the clock “… has both the time and the inclination.”
There’s one last attraction I want to visit - the ornate Crown Liquor Saloon, built by Italian craftsman in the 1880s (in town to build some local churches), with its elaborate tiling, stained glass and carved woodwork. It’s a short walk from City Hall and is situated in the Linen Quarter, but it’s far too crowded for me to stop a while and have a drink, so I just take a photo. It’s so blurred it looks as if I have been drinking. Why didn’t I take another one?
On the shuttle bus back to the ship I chat with a guy from the DC area who tells me he only ever goes into town when he has visitors. We speculate as to what the immense blades stacked horizontally a few yards away from the ship might be. As I get off the bus, the driver tells me they’re for wind turbines - the cruise terminal is being moved closer to the mouth of the River Lagan, enlarged to accommodate more cruise ships, and the area where we are now is to become a wind farm.
There’s a self-led Shabbat service from 6-7pm in the Bangkok room where a table has been covered with a white tablecloth upon which has been laid prayer books, head coverings, wine, juice, braided loaves, and beetroot and horseradish source. Attendees include a Torontonian who grew up in Miraflores (Lima’s bohemian quarter) and her adopted Chinese daughter who was abandoned as a baby. Kudos to NCL for having this as a feature of their cruises.
There's barely a ripple on the water as we glide out of Belfast and along the coast where lights twinkle in the dusk, and out into the Irish Sea.

Saturday 20 May 2023 - Liverpool

It’s a sunny, warm morning as I stroll around an almost empty upper deck and point out The Three Graces (the Royal Liver, Cunard and Port of Liverpool buildings) to an unnervingly polite, elderly couple from Texas who insist on calling me “sir”, but I don't mention I filmed there recently (as a TV extra for a political drama). They’re taking a ship’s excursion to Chester. An excellent choice, I tell them - a fine city with part of the Roman walls being accessible to those of limited mobility.
There’s nothing I’m particularly interested in doing today - I’m only a couple of hours from home. I disembark a little before noon - amidships, deck 4 - and take a couple of selfies with the elegant Norwegian Star in the background. At the pier head is a monument conceived as a Titanic memorial, “In honour of all heroes of the marine engine room” who stayed at their posts so others could survive. “Liverpool World Heritage City”; however, is no longer true because the city was stripped of its UNESCO status in 2021 due to over-development of the waterfront.
Walking to the nearby Albert Dock, I pass various war-related memorials: to Chinese merchant seaman who served Britain during both world wars; to the (home) merchant navy; to Canadian citizens, represented by maple trees from their government; and a propeller from the Lusitania. Beyond the statue to local pop icon Billy Fury is Floating Earth by artist Luke Jerram which uses detailed NASA imagery of the Earth, and uses the water of the dock as a natural mirror to the temporary installation.
It’s too far for me in the heat to visit either of the city’s cathedrals so, staying centrally, I head in the direction of the Cavern Club, pausing at the statue to the Beatles’ erstwhile manager, Brian Epstein, who managed other stellar acts such as Cilla Black and Gerry and the Pacemakers. There are, of course, large crowds milling outside the club, opposite which is Eric’s where Talking Heads, The Police, The Ramones and others once played. From there, further wandering brings me to the neo-Baroque Queen Victoria Monument in Derby Square, built over the former site of Liverpool Castle.
Passing the Beatles’ sculpture back on the waterfront (they’re also just out for a stroll, although today they don’t need their coats) I stop to admire Heaven & Earth - a telescope sculpture celebrating the life and works of the 17th century astronomer, Jeremiah Horrocks from Liverpool who was the first person to accurately calculate the transit of Venus. In the sunshine I find a spot to rest on the waterfront and read about him on the internet.
At eight o’clock, with the light beginning to fade, I go out on deck as we drift away from the city and down the Mersey. It’s sad that there’s no live music for these sailaways.
After the Soul Rockin’ Nights show in the Stardust Theatre, our cruise director announces, "I just want to give you an important information." Apparently, Isha’s been too busy to visit the library.
As usual, the rest of the evening is spent drifting from the Grand Atrium to Gatsby’s to the Bliss Lounge listening to different genres of popular music

Sunday 21 May 2023 - Dun Laoghaire (Dublin)

I watch some of the tender operation - passengers booked on shore excursions heading off to Dun Laoghaire - before a leisurely breakfast, although I’ve given up on Danish pastries since I glimpsed rotundity in the bathroom mirror. Despite leaving my knife and fork set at a quarter to three, my table is yet again cleared and my second bagel thrown away whilst I'm getting a refill of hot water. Service charges can be adjusted a couple of days before the end of the cruise and, because it's happened five times now, and each time I'm assured it won't happen again, I will reduce it by $5 to $15 per day.
I’m off the ship by 11am and chat with a guy from Brisbane on the tender. We share near-miss experiences: he nearly missed his ship in Cambodia and my closest call was in Gibraltar.
Friendly, relaxed, droll HoHo guys by the waterfront sell me a €30 day ticket which includes the €5 return DART train ticket to Dublin. I’m advised to do a round trip to live commentary (the hop-on-hop-off buses alternate between live and recorded commentary) to first get a feel for the city. A few minutes later I catch the noon train for what proves to be a scenic ride along the bay into Dublin, getting off at Pearse station where a HoHo girl at the station entrance directs people to the bus stop opposite. She tells me that a bus ride all the way round takes about 90 minutes. I’ll try that and see how I am for time.
The informative driver with his well-practiced patter is a fine guide as we drive past Trinity College, the home of The Book of Kells; Temple Bar and City Hall; Dublin Castle; the Guinness Brewery with its iconic St. James’s Gate; and through the immense Phoenix Park (twice the size of New York’s Central Park). Some of the sites we pass by in the park include the monument to local boy, the Duke of Wellington; the Phoenix monument (although the park is named for a body of water rather than a mythical bird); the US embassy; Dublin Zoo (the home of the original MGM lion); the official residence of the Irish President; and the Papal Cross.
The contrast between the English Blackpool and the Irish Black Pool (Dubh Linh) is striking: the former, with its soiled seafront spattered with a mile or more of manure from the daily droppings of trotting horses pulling garish carriages along the promenade, and the latter - clean and welcoming.
Where’s a good place to experience an Irish coffee? There are plenty of bars along the River Liffey but the bus driver recommends Kennedys close by the statue of Oscar Wilde which is the last stop before my starting point at Pearse Street. Excellent! The colourful Oscar Wilde Monument is in the corner of Merrion Square Park opposite the house in which the Wilde family lived, and a three-minute walk away in the direction of Pearse Station is Kennedys. The bar is famous for its literary clientele, including Wilde (who used to work there as a boy, stacking shelves), Joyce and Yeats, and I watch as the barman pours coffee, sugar, Tullamore Dew and a collar of cream into a classic glass. €8? Is that expensive, or a sign that I don’t frequent bars very often? I linger, savouring every delicious sip.
I pass more sites such as the birthplace of the Duke of Wellington, intending to get off the bus near the castle and walk down to the river, but I’m running out of time (the last tender back to the ship is at 6pm) so walk back to the station and listen to a pianist entertaining us until the train arrives.
I have half an hour to look around Dun Laoghaire before joining the queue for the tenders where it doesn’t matter how much you paid for your cabin, you still have to stand and wait in the democratic line. I board a tender at 6pm, but there are three more coachloads yet to arrive, and eavesdrop on an elderly Canadian couple trying to explain the difference between the city of Vancouver and Vancouver Island to a young Spanish couple. I suppose it is confusing that the city isn’t actually on the island.
Tonight there’s grilled hake (topped with finely diced vegetables and pineapple) instead of tilapia 48 ways. Dessert is pina colada cream cake where I can taste neither pina nor colada, perhaps due to the slice of cheddar jalapeno cornbread I had before dessert having converted my taste buds to taste duds.
Well, frankly, this is ridiculous… The first of tonight’s featured entertainment is the Speed Trivia Gameshow at 8pm in the Bliss Lounge - how many questions can you answer in 30 seconds? The answer is - hardly any, because our MC stumbles repeatedly in his efforts to ask rapid fire questions in English.
There's Latin music in the Grand Atrium and much enthusiastic audience participation in the chorus of the unofficial Mexican national anthem, Cielito Lindo, but because my singing doesn't gladden any hearts, my contribution is barely audible even to me.
It’s very curious that at night-time it's the port side of the Garden Café that vibrates rather than starboard - my late evening plum cobbler is more of a plum wobbler.
The DJ seems as limited in his playlist as the entertainment staff in their English - tracks such as Fireball, Born This Way and Can't Stop The Feeling seem to be played every night. That's probably why a packed Bliss Lounge with a packed dance floor from the ABBAlicious Party at 10.45pm becomes an almost empty lounge with 6 people on the dance floor ten minutes later.

Monday 22 May 2023 - Cobh (Cork)

I’ve followed the trail of Captain Cook across the South and North Pacific, the trail of pirates in the Caribbean and the South China Sea, and today allows me to complete my own Titanic trail by arriving in Queenstown (as Cobh was known then), her final port of call before setting out on her fateful maiden voyage.
By 8.30 the coaches for the shore excursionists are lined up by the dock, behind which is the little train station. Cobh looks very pretty, but a short (10-minute) walk past pastel-coloured buildings down to the bandstand in Kennedy Park, and a short reflection at the Lusitania Peace Memorial, will suffice for the moment - I’ll save exploration for later, depending on how much time is left after visiting Cork.
I doubt I’m the first person to confuse the entrance to the Cobh Heritage Centre with the entrance to the train station (outside and to the left), and I catch the 11am train (a day ticket costs €6.90) arriving in Cork half an hour later, after a scenic ride along the River Lee and across Lough Mahon. At the station is a memorial to Thomas Kent, after whom the station is named, who was, “Executed by British armed forces at Victoria Barracks now Cork Prison 9th May 1916.”
During my half-hour walk into town in the warm sunshine, searching for the tourist information office, I pause at Paddy Torino’s / City Grill, outside which is an extensive dedication to the great man himself - father of thirty-two children, honorary member of the Rat Pack, captain of the Italian soccer team at the Berlin Olympics, fighter pilot and national hunt champion jockey. I imagine he also owned nearby Blarney Castle.
At the tourist information office, places of interest are marked out for me and I head back across St. Patrick’s Bridge and the north channel of the river up towards the Butter Museum and the nearby Shandon Bells and Tower. On the way back down I pass the birthplace of sportsman and politician Jack Lynch, twice Taoiseach during the 1960s and 70s.
The quiet of the hilly, north side is replaced by the teeming crowds of the flatter, south side with shops and restaurants along the streets and quays of the south channel, through which I meander to Elizabeth Fort, first built in 1601. It was a Jacobite stronghold during the Williamite War, an army barracks, and a prison with many inmates incarcerated prior to transportation. The stories of the prisoners, mostly women who became founding mothers of modern-day Australia and who stayed on after their sentence because they couldn’t afford the journey back to Ireland, are harrowing and fascinating.
Just before reaching the train station I come across the former offices of the St. George Steam Packet Company, owners of the steamship Sirius which was the first ship to cross the Atlantic entirely under steam. Newspapers reported that her fuel ran out before reaching New York but her captain, determined to complete the passage under steam, declined to hoist the ship’s sails and, instead, fed spars into the furnace. True or not, the story inspired the famous episode in Jules Verne’s Around The World In Eighty Days.
Catching the 3pm train back to Cobh gives me plenty of time to explore the colourful island town, replicating my earlier walk but also exploring side streets and listening to some terrible live music outside The Mauretania bar. Back at the Annie More statue right by the ship’s ropes (she was the very first immigrant to be processed at Ellis Island, on New Year’s Eve 1891, aged just 17) four locals in elegant period costume pose for photographs.
It’s a very scenic sailaway through the harbour channels, passing the whitewashed buildings of Roache’s Point Lighthouse and out into the Celtic Sea - a perfect evening for a sailway deck party but, of course, there isn’t one.
I have a chat with Ramon, one of the musicians I chatted with on the tender into Newhaven, before the showband's first session of the evening in the Atrium begins. His contract is until September when it'll be spring back home and this is his second year with NCL - last year he was also on the Dawn.
As compensation for missing Stornaway and the late arrival in Belfast, $100 on-board credit per cabin has been granted. Drinks, chocolates, shore excursions, clothes (was there really nobody in NCL marketing who questioned whether emblazoning everything with “Hooked On Cruising” was a good idea?), watches, jewellery, flasks… I buy a box of Lindt chocolate squares for $22 from the on-board shop just before it closes
The ship’s Glow Party at 10.45pm in the Bliss Lounge is a desultory affair. A few passengers are wearing white and/or neon, the entertainment staff are working hard, but the atmosphere and music have no (ahem!) sparkle.

Tuesday 23 May 2023 - Portland (Weymouth)

I gaze out the large café windows watching as the Portland Pilot boat guides us slowly in on a calm, clear morning. By 11am the ship is tied up. On the adjacent dock is the MS Deutschland. This was the ship that passengers departing Paris aboard the ill-fated Air France Concorde Flight, on 25 July 2000, had been due to join on arrival in New York.
There are frequent, complimentary shuttle buses to Portland Castle continuing on to Weymouth six miles away. From the upper deck I get my first sighting of the sweeping Chesil Beach, part of the UNESCO World Heritage listed Jurassic Coast.
From where we are dropped off it’s a pleasant 10-minute walk into town, past the pedestrianised Brewer’s Quay (taking care not to get run over by the land train), along the harbour (the estuary of the river Wey) with its colourful houses, and over the town bridge. I can’t see any signs for tourist information. The museum ladies locking up at 1pm explain, with a smile of resignation, that there isn’t one. A holiday hotspot in the middle of the world-famous Jurassic Coast doesn’t have a tourist information centre? Dear me!
Now that I’ve (sort of) got my bearings, I want to go back to Portland, renowned for its limestone (used in world-famous buildings such as Buckingham Palace and the UN headquarters in New York) and its lighthouse. The driver of bus no. 1 from the King's Statue (George III, since you asked, who holidayed for many years in Weymouth at the turn of the 18th century) tells me that, from the closest bus stop on Portland, it will be about a half-hour walk down to the lighthouse. It’s a lovely day and, with an all-aboard time of 7.30pm, I’ll have time to visit and explore Weymouth town afterwards.
The 30-minute bus ride shows me that Portland is a sizeable town, not just a nature reserve and as we climb higher I get even better views of the expanse of Chesil Beach. At my pace, and with my failed attempt at a shortcut, it’s closer to a 40-minute walk down to the lighthouse and visitor centre. Beyond, closer to the shoreline, is: an obelisk built of Portland stone which served as a navigational aid before the lighthouse was built; and Pulpit Rock, a quarrying relic.
I don’t fancy an uphill walk back to the bus stop in the heat of a sunny afternoon and manage to get a lift with a kind family from Birmingham. By half past four I’m back at the George III statue (and a replica of the royal bathing machine) on the esplanade. I walk through narrow town streets, pausing on the town bridge to watch rowers along the estuary, and back to where the shuttle bus waits.
Do I hear singing? There’s a girl threesome in matching print dresses with pink bows in their hair down on the dock, and a small crowd gathers on the promenade deck 7 to listen to swing and jive classics. It’s a lovely interlude and shows what the ship should be doing for every sailaway. Sadly, I don’t have anyone to dance with.
At eight o’clock we slowly drift away from our final port of call then it’s back to the cabin to pack. I won’t put my case out tonight, preferring to take it tomorrow myself so I can disembark at relative leisure. Once packed, I pop in to listen to some of the entertainment on offer this evening, including The Rat Pack Returns With Glenn Macnamara, before reducing my service charges to $15 because my cutlery signals continue to be ignored.

Wednesday 24 May 2023

Disembarking does prove to be much more relaxed when I take my own luggage. After breakfast, I say goodbye to my cabin steward, showing my appreciation in the traditional manner, disembark at 8.45 and walk back to the train station.
Well, I didn’t manage to spend much of my on-board credit and, socially, as a solo passenger, the cruise has been a failure, but the cruise has granted me a temporary remission from various health problems which is much more important.

Hello.  Do you have to pay in Euros for the bus/train to Dublin or can you use a credit card?  We are wondering if we should convert to some Euros for a few stops next month.  Thank you.

[Buford T Justiice]

I enjoyed your review and sense of humor.

[JakTar]

I can't see how I can reply to an individual's question so...

Dear surfone,

I should have taken some Euros with me, but I forgot.

I therefore used a credit card whilst in Ireland.

Regards

J

[ggTexasGal]

35 minutes ago, JakTar said:

I can't see how I can reply to an individual's question so...

Dear surfone,

I should have taken some Euros with me, but I forgot.

I therefore used a credit card whilst in Ireland.

Regards

J

Use the "+ Quote" feature near the bottom left.

[JakTar]

Hello gg,

Thanks.

I wondered if there was a way for my reply to appear directly under the question to which it related, rathet than just tagged on after the last comment.

Edited August 28, 2023 by JakTar
Edit1

[DCGuy64]

19 hours ago, YVRteacher said:

You reduced your daily service charge because your plates in the Garden Cafe were cleared away?

Multiple times. It would have infuriated me, too.

[DCGuy64]

1 hour ago, JakTar said:

I can't see how I can reply to an individual's question so...

Dear surfone,

I should have taken some Euros with me, but I forgot.

I therefore used a credit card whilst in Ireland.

Regards

J

I LOVED your review. You obviously spent a great deal of time writing it. The comprehensiveness and detail were amazing, as well as your beautiful English-good grammar and spelling are, alas, too much the exception than the rule nowadays. I felt as though I had seen everything you did. Reviews of this sort are exceedingly rare and much appreciated. It makes me want to do a similar cruise and take in the same sights you did. I also loved your cheeky sense of humor. Thank you so much for writing this.