Tuesday 21st January

Woke to a fantastic sunrise and guess what? For the first time it was warmer on the balcony, than in the cabin at 7:30, like stepping out into a cup of warm tea.

Had breakfast and then away into town (no immigration this time), Carol wanted to have a ‘quick’ look at the Mall first, but after leaving me to log on to the local WiFi she was soon back and we shot off for a boat trip around the area. For a relatively small (by American standards) town. Fort Lauderdale was impressive it has over 170 miles of water front properties on their Inter-coastal Waterway and if you are a millionaire you can’t afford one. You have to be a multimillionaire or if you want to be a bit less stretched, a billionaire, as the property tax on many of these waterfront houses exceeded $44,000 per month. The waterway is laid out herring bone fashion, with a main throughway and inlets stretching about a kilometre left and right. Each property had its requisite super yacht, I quickly realised that taking photographs was useless as there were so many, though I did take one of Steven Spielberg’s daddy of all yachts.

We stopped for a quick beer on the way back, I say beer, I meant lager ‘ugh’ and the trouble was it was buy one get one free, so I had to drink two. Carol sneaked a picture of me drinking it. She’s demanding payment or she will mail it to the Jolly Brewers.

We got back in time but two unfortunate guests didn’t. The gangplank had been removed and we had singled up, (sailor talk for all ropes taken off, bar one forward and one aft) when we got an announcement that there would be a slight delay as they had got word that two missing passengers had just arrived at the port. (We would have left without them). Anyway, there we were watching the fun, fifteen various port officials milling around below us when a taxi pulls up and the two unfortunates scramble out and into immigration. One of the port officials, a lady of ample proportions set off in a lumbering gait towards us shouting up at the bridge in a strong southern accent, “Ceptaaain Ceptaaain yer tooo missing pessengers err hea” repeatedly. A head pokes out of the bridge window twenty feet from us and a cut glass voice shouts back “thenk-yoo”. While our two unfortunates were negotiating immigration, a police car screams round the car park all lit up like a Christmas tree, blue red and white lights flashing out how important he is. The sole occupant jumps out leaving his door open and the lights flashing and strolls to the fence where the fifteen officials are still milling around. He is promptly allowed through to make the fifteen sixteen. Just then the two unfortunates exit immigration and it soon becomes apparent why they were late. They had, should we say, partaken of American hospitality to excess, or at least the one in red had. This was getting better than last night’s show (a virtuoso guitarist with a broken backing track-but that’s another story). The lady official of ample proportions (who seems to be in charge) makes her way back towards us and shouts up to the bridge “are yo goin to open a dawer or somthin”. Then, as if in answer to her demands, there is a crash and a bang and gangway appears below us crashing onto the quayside. The unfortunate in red makes a dash for it and there is a synchronised chorus of no’s! both from the sixteen milling officials and the ships staff manoeuvring the gangway. The unfortunate in red is persuaded to move back, but then the gangway recedes back into the bowels of the ship. This prompts the unfortunate in red to make another dash for the gaping hole in the ships side thinking that we had decided against letting him aboard, there is another chorus of no’s and he is once more persuaded to return to the safety of the sixteen milling officials. At this moment another car screeches into view with Sherriff proudly emblazoned on the side. He jumps out leaving his door open (trusting lot these American law enforcers) and makes his way to the fence whereupon he is allowed in to make the sixteen milling officials seventeen. It appears that the angle of the gangway was too steep for the unfortunate in red and his companion to climb (elfin safety and all that) so a rope is lowered from ten decks up to attach to the end of the gangway whereupon it re-emerges from the ships side and gently lowers to the quayside. The seventeen milling officials escort the unfortunate in red and his companion to the gangway whereupon they scramble into the safety of the gaping hole in the ships side and out of our sight. The gangway disappears inside the ship, a loud bang announces ‘thet the dawer’ is now closed and the seventeen milling officials wave at the now dark and black ships side. The lady of ample proportions trots down the quay towards us and shouts up to the bridge that the unfortunate two are abowaad and an arm appears out of the bridge window in waving acknowledgement. All shipshape and Bristol fashion the remaining lines are slipped the engines rumble into life and we ease away from the quay. We wave to the seventeen milling officials and rush down for dinner for which the side show has made us a bit late

Dinner was a bit of subdued affair as two of our table Roger and Barbara from Lytham, had departed leaving a gap, both in the seating and the conversation. Janet summed it up for all of us, when she said “it’s not the same without them”.

One or two of you have commented that the map that should be showing our position, is not. Sorry about that folks but the way that should work is the ship sends its coordinates via satellite to an independent site which displays it along with all the other ships that send their coordinates, we then redisplay that map on our site. Somehow there is a break in the chain and for some reason QE (and all the other ships) are not being displayed. Paul is working on it but I don’t think there is much he can do. We will just have to wait for the problem to be resolved