Ship Shape

This week’s column comes to you from the pool deck of the new Seabourn Encore. We’ve just left Komodo Island and are now sailing merrily along the deep blue Indonesian seas.

            Next to me, on a khaki-hued deckchair dressed provocatively in this season’s skimpiest Gucci swimsuit, Amanda is slowly rotating her body in her patented sun-tanning procedure. Generally, this involves a quarter turn every ten minutes to ensure an even burn. In certain positions, she contorts her inner thighs outwards.

            Every so often, Saffy will lower her sunglasses and glare disapprovingly. “Seriously, you need to do that sort of thing in the bedroom!”

            Once, Amanda waved her hands. “Oh, no one is watching!” she said airily, to which Saffy pointed out that the only way no one was watching her was if they were Friends of Dorothy, or dead.

            “Or both,” I said, as I raised my novel higher to cover my face from the blazing sun.

            “Or both,” Saffy repeated grimly.

            The usual round of squabbling aside, it’s been a very relaxing few days so far. The ship has 12 levels and there’s practically a restaurant or bar on every one of them, which might explain why the passengers are all so cheerful all the time.

            Yesterday, we anchored at Komodo Island. Originally, Amanda had wanted to see some actual dragons, but Saffy vetoed the idea after she read about how vicious they are. “The mothers sit around the eggs and wait for their babies to hatch and then they eat them!” she reported with the added horror of a newborn vegan.

            Which is how we found ourselves lazily snorkeling around the coral surrounding a pink-sanded beach. At one point, Amanda surfaced next to me, looking a complete vision as water droplets sparkled off her flawless skin. “This is the life, isn’t it?” she said, bobbing in the water. “Why do we spend our lives trapped in offices?”

            “So we can afford to take expensive cruises like this!” I hazarded, proving once again that even in the midst of an aquatic paradise, I’m a glass half empty kind of guy.

            Later that afternoon back on the Encore, over a lunch of mushroom lasagne in the white-washed Colonnade restaurant, Amanda leaned forward and whispered, “Is it just me or is this quite a senior crowd?”

            Saffy looked around. As someone who’s made a successful HR career out of being non-discriminatory, she rarely sees anyone through the lens of age, just potential. She returned her attention to her noodle salad and shrugged. “Maybe, but they look really rich! You’d just need to be married for a year, tops, and you’ll inherit gazillions by Christmas when he drops dead!”

            Amanda pursed her lips. “They’re all couples, though.”

            “That blonde guy who takes the morning pilates class is hot!” Saffy said suddenly. “He needs to wear less clothes.”

            “Oh yes!” Amanda sighed. “Did you see his thighs?”
            Saffy’s bosom inflated. “How could you miss them? Like smooth oak tree trunks!”

            Anxious to change the subject, I piped up and asked what everyone was planning for the afternoon.

            “I think there’s a mahjong session after lunch,” Amanda said.

            “Well, that’s one way to meet hot young men,” Saffy pointed out, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

            “It’s how Barney meets some of his dates,” Amanda began and trailed off as she saw the error of her dating strategy. She tried a different tack. “Maybe I should sign up for a private training session with Mr Hottie Pilates.”

            “Yes, good idea,” Saffy said with approval. “If I was single, that’s who I’d do bench presses with!”

            And so, the days pass with idle, mostly harmless, games of mild flirtations, and long afternoons on the balconies of our rooms gently lulled to sleep by the slow rock of the Encore.

            This evening, in the Great Salon, there’s an after-dinner show with a mind-reader, which Saffy thinks might be a bit dangerous. “What if he asks you what you did this afternoon?” she asked Amanda.

            Amanda rotated her bronzing body on her lounge chair. “Well, my appointment with Mr Hottie Pilates isn’t till tomorrow morning, and I’ve got nothing planned except a massage.”

            Saffy lowered her sunglasses and looked around the sundeck currently filled with what she’s taken to calling Passion Card holders. “Well, a lot can happen between now and the show,” she pointed out, even as an elderly gentleman struggled by on his walker.

            Amanda says one of the things she loves about Saffy is her optimism.