e is away....: June 2024

Barefoot in black tie at sea.

The following blog will not follow what we perceive as a linear time line; but since Chico assures us that time is an illusion, I will take liberal artistic discretion on this.

QM2 with Mimi was a delight…all passengers have their own style aboard- some play bridge and come to lunch early, some exit their state room accidentally in the middle of the night scantily clad and are locked out semi naked in elevators. We say you do you. Indeed, what happens on the QM2 stays on the QM2: you don’t hear me recounting how many soft serve ice creams per day Thomas eats, or how KMH can’t tell Filipino people apart. No you don't.

To begin, it was as exciting and wonderful as ever…same handsome Turk in the dining room, same beautiful teak deck, same view and sea air. We had gone down in life a bit, due to the fact that the very fancy state rooms were taken and we no longer had a private elevator in our room. But we are flexible people.

They found KMH a bridge partner who had a PHD in mathematics. I think they wiped the floor with the competition, the only difference being only one woman did an end zone dance after they won.

What Kathy is at bridge I am at the soft serve. Or so I thought. As usual in these dark times, there always seems to be one machine out of order. This means only the brightest fittest people can get a mixture of both chocolate and vanilla at the same time. I approached my first machine and a little kid came up looking rather game without the usual cow like stare of so many of my competitors. I decided to throw him a bone on account of his age.

“The chocolate is broken on this one. Don’t get your hopes up for a blended swirl.”

He said: ‘There is another chocolate over there.”

And I thought..oh please….do I look like an amateur? Of course I know that. The other one is also broken, and I told him this, patronizingly.

Then he dropped this bomb: “Port side, door C there is another chocolate working.

Batons pass eventually people. It's much like Steph Curry -he is still the best; but the future without him is at least a possibility now.

The lecture series on the ocean continued to be as sobering as you can imagine. Of course no oceanographer is going to congratulate us on the great things going on down there….So I will just tell you the worst thing: dolphins are getting their ear drums blown out when the floor is explored for oil, and the basic noise level is too high for the whales who need quiet to communicate and survive (that’s why we don’t see them on crossings anymore).

The answer is the usual: eat more plants, buy less Zara.

So we sadly parted company with Mimi in England, but got to see Hanna and meet Lane (again!) flew to Portugal for a week; and then our triumphant return to the Cala di Volpe after a 12 year hiatus. It was wonderful, lots of the waiters were still there and remembered us and our weird habits. We saw the usual display of super models and soccer players and paparazzi and tried to resist the recommended 9,000 calorie a day diet there. The Marriot corporation has taken over so now instead of a night club there are two gyms (two) and a large section of the wine list offers 20,000 + Euro bottles of wine (not making that up), but it was nice to be where we have spent happy times with Eva and Frederick as a baby. (Lord I wish time did not feel so linear) I have a few favorites there and now in my advanced age was free to just chat them up. Whenever I could I would hail the most dignified man, a little older than we, gray head now, never smiles except with his eyes at my bleating concerns about which shape pasta will make my life complete. I told him he needed to write a book. He looked confused. So we starting asking him all the questions Thomas and I had asked ourselves to wile away the afternoon.

Has anyone ever died in the pool? No.

Has Sophia Loren come? Easy, yes.

Has anyone divorced at the beginning of the trip and married another woman by the end? Laughs.

Did he remember the night the Gypsy Kings came and no one but me and the Israeli grandmother danced and I was breast feeding so I looked kind of fat? Yes the gypsy kings played often. He added that they were good but nothing was as beautiful as when Elton John came and played for the guests. He lit up telling us, but then quickly recovered his insanely discreet demeanor

Then Thomas asked: Did he ever see a wife come and discover her husband with another woman at the famous lunch? He nodded sagely:

“It Happens…What would you like for dessert?”

In London we got a tour of Imperial. Hanna and I bought a bunch of sweatshirts that gave the impression that we attended the place and Hanna dazzled one and all by walking past in her shiny glory. I love the titles of things that are written on the message boards. One in particular seemed on point: "Normal ordering kills bubbles." Amen.

As I write this we are flying to Portugal for the festival of Tom with a a rare re union of the Brigham foursome. Charles McCune will even make an appearance; alas Frederick will be squiring Peter T. From Exeter and another friend to Norway, and cannot attend.

I have much more to tell, but I must eat my peanuts. Suffice it to say we got a lot of good baby physics out of our young student which was even more delicious with the addition of beautiful L and the philosophy angle. Poor thing, it was like having a pop quiz every night as we fired all our little questions at her. Luckily she was game, explaining Kant between bites of shrimp.

So in the spirit of the deep intellectualism that is this blog- I’ll leave you with a quantum physics thought for the day: Individual humans are exactly as different as ripples in the ocean are from each other and from the ocean. We can tell the ripples apart, but none of them are really separate from the ocean, or each other.

Keep that in your pocket for the next election day my people. Xxx