“I thought you were going on a cruise”, one friend commented. I must say, our short time in Copenhagen felt well used and those few hours we spent there were a bit of a bonus. Because yes, of course we were looking forward to boarding our favourite ship and sailing off into the sunset.
But before we could sail away, there was the little business of the lifeboat drill to be done. I’d thought, whilst watching the British Airways crew member do the safety demonstration, that for the next couple of weeks, lifejackets will be part and parcel of our “plan B”. And so it was that at 5.15pm, the emergency signal sounded and we all trooped down to the muster station to report our presence and to listen carefully.
We take these things seriously, after all, who knows if we might need that whistle at some point? The couple behind me were observing that the light on their lifejacket wasn’t working, and said as much to the crew member nearby. She advised that it will only light when it comes into contact with water, and the last I heard was a vague plan to try it in the bath…
We had no such intentions. We did, however, follow in single file, out onto the deck, beneath Lifeboat 7, which according to our lead crew member is the best one in an emergency, for amongst those accompanying us is a sax player from the band, a masseuse, a dancer and a hairdresser – all our needs catered for, with the possible exception of a cook!
Having completed the formalities, we were headed up on deck for the sailaway party. Such glorious weather was enough in itself to warrant celebration, but with a blast on the ship’s horn and a(nother) glass of champagne in hand, we were off.
Calm blue seas, wind farms and bright sunshine. We toasted our good fortune with our friends and hoped for smooth sailing.
Though the barbecue was fired up and the seafood buffet looked amazing, we stood firm and resisted the temptation, because all too soon we’d be sitting down to dinner.
As Copenhagen and the Danish coast slipped into the distance, we headed downstairs, for what Daddy would have referred to as a “snecklifter”. Well, that glass of champagne was just a little bit of bubble, wasn’t it?
Bye bye, Denmark.
Hello Hendricks! When I saw waiter Gusti earlier in the day, he’d remembered my favourite drink from last January, when we were last on board. He’d also remembered my Hero’s penchant for Negronis and said, with a wink, that he’d have them ready for us later! But arriving in the Horizon lounge for pre dinner drinks, we couldn’t see him anywhere – he was working in one of the other bars, we were told. Suffice to say, though, that word had got around and Hasainu, one of his colleagues, had got the message. Oh my goodness: 600 odd people on the ship and yet, someone, somewhere has noted who we are and what we like to drink. We’d only been on board 6 hours, too.