We arrived a little late for the ferry.
They waited for us partly because my fame had spread before me and partly because frankly, they were fucking glad of the trade.
We drove straight on without any of those irritating queues which was nice. Fame has its up side.
Shortly before we left, there was the usual cheerful announcement from the captain welcoming us aboard. He told us how we were probably going to arrive ahead of time because of a following wind.
He then spent about ten minutes haranguing all the evil, disgusting smokers on board, telling us how we were NOT allowed smoke anywhere except outside. He went to great lengths to drum this home. He ended up by warning of dire consequences if there were any filthy cigarette butts left lying around.
He wasn’t kidding about the wind.
It wasn’t so much the effect on the ship as on the sea.
It was a roller.
I like rolling seas, but some peoples stomachs just can’t seem to take it. There was very strong evidence of this at frequent intervals around the outside deck, and even in a couple of cases, on the inside.
Now, it may just be me. Maybe I am becoming intolerant in my old age?
But frankly, I would rather wade around a deck that is ankle deep in fag ends, than slosh around in peoples discarded dinner.
But the captain never mentioned vomit in his little speech.
Is he a little misguided in his priorities?
Or is a cigarette butt that much worse than a gallon of puke?
A gallon of puke?
You were lucky Grandad..I remember in the early sixties emigrating to England on a flat bottomed converted cattle boat called the “Princess Maude”. Jesus the puke was all around our ankles, on corridors, stairs, suitcases..fuck it Grandad ’twas everywhere. But it’s amazing how you cope when you’re young.
Your Highness – I thought the Princess Maude was the Isle of Man steamer? Maybe not. I would have classed last night’s crossing as “calm” but obviously others thought differently?
Mi dear broth of a boy,
Ne’er were truer words spoken in anger.
To well I recall the night crossings ,Holyhead to
Dun Laoghaire in the late 40s,the days when one
could smoke,sup, wretch and break wind to your
hearts content. Were there ever better times than
those rain swept days on Connemara’s shores.
Alas no more for me Eireans green isle ,tis too grey.
too regimented,too controlled for hearts and souls
that were weaned in the yearning for freedom .
Indeed ,4 years ago harsh letters were dispatched
to the Failte and many others in the tourist trade.
“I’lle not be coming again to your Emerald Gulag nor
any of my blood”
I’lle take no more groups to Knock,Lisdoonvarna nor
Mi little bitterness is now at end
Grandad I looked it up and the Princess Maud plied her trade for British Railways between Dun Laoghaire and Holyhead until 1965. It was some boat alright !!
Barrus you’re right the days of freedom on Paddy’s green shamrock shere are well and truly over. Can’t wait for the revolution…
Barrus – Those were the good old days of the [coal-fired] Mailboat and the [coal-fired] mail train. By the time you got to Euston you had about half a ton of coal slack floating around your lungs. We were all better off for it too.
Your Highness – Most of my memories are of travelling on the Hibernia or the Cambria which must have been in the ’50s. I vaguely remember the Princess Maude now that I think of it.
Ah, you bring back back the fond memories of spending 3 days on the surface of the North Sea during a raging storm. 80 knot winds and a sea state 7, rolling around like a drunk whale in a nuclear submarine that has no keel. Only 11 out of 90 or so crew members were not afflicted with violent seasickness for those 3 days and I, fortunately, was among those 11.
Didn’t we 11 have a bit of fun with the other 80 or so.
We always travelled on the either the Hibernia or the Cambria but my Dad always talked about a third – maybe that was the Princess Maud..
Anyway, as I recall – every deck and corridor was swimming in vomit on a rough crossing…. don’t think people were checking it for fag ends though …