Converted to cruising
Last Updated: 12:01am GMT 17/03/2007
Sue Lawley thought she would hate being cocooned on a ship. After a trip to the Caribbean, she now understands why so many take to the seas year after year.
It’s coming up to midnight and Ron from the Isle of Wight, aged 80, is belting out an up-tempo version of the St Louis Blues on the electric keyboard. The audience in The Rising Sun is loving it and I’m whooping my appreciation with the best of them. We’re just along from the casino, to which we repaired for a spot of blackjack following dinner in a Gary Rhodes restaurant. Our three-course meal included lobster salad and loin of lamb accompanied by a fine bottle of Margaux. We’ve moved on to something a little less sophisticated — a pub talent show called “The Xtra Factor”. It could be Willesden, it could be Wilmslow. It is, in fact, neither and yet both of these things. It’s the Caribbean, and we’re on a cruise.
A cruise, I used to think, is a bit like Marmite: you either love it or hate it. You either relish the idea of sailing to exotic places cocooned in the insular splendour of a ship or you recoil, aghast, at the thought of experiencing far-flung shores in the company of 2,000 of your fellow countrymen. As someone who likes her privacy — and who has, incidentally, an inexplicable fear of death by drowning — I had put myself in the latter category. But people kept saying that I and my husband, Hugh (oh, if they knew how hard he is to please) would enjoy bobbing around the Caribbean aboard a grand ship. So, a little hesitation, quite a lot of persuasion and then: “OK, we’re going” — freshly pressed linen gear, dinner jackets, golf clubs, the lot — for a 14-day P & O cruise of the West Indies. I kept a log.
Converted to cruising | Central America And Caribbean | Choose A Country | Travel | Telegraph