HMS Scandinavia, the ship which is, at present, taking us across the Baltic is both older (some 30 years) and heavier (heavy) than our own rusty hulk. Ferries seem to have a peculiar feel to them and this one is no exception. Where else would you see a large group of men downing pints at half eight in the morning watching endless episodes of what looks like a Czech version of countdown?
“Ah, tuc Carol, consonant please, and another, and another, and another... Ok yes, I have a 15, zlelstwitetznictzly, how’s that?”
We’re on our third cabin now after various bits have fallen off the wall in the other two – most notably perhaps the tap, and the thermostat – no great loss as it didn’t work anyway. Lars is overjoyed at the prospect of having two spare bunks and has nabbed the extra pillows and now relines reading his book in a sort of “princess and the pea” arrangement. I shan’t have to shave for a week, having used some of the ship’s own-brand shower gel, which seems to possess all the important properties of Agent Orange.
Thank you Callum for the Custard Creams, I know you didn’t want to let them go.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment