In which Layla and Roz fall in love with the Queen Mary 2

By Layla

I never thought we would become ‘cruise people’. In fact I confess I have never thought or uttered the term ‘cruise people’ with a tone of admiration or envy. And yet. And YET. After just one week’s voyage from New York to Southampton on Cunard’s Queen Mary 2 has given me the insight: horror or glory… I think I might be a cruise person. Or at least a voyage person. On our last day I can only think: this is a travesty! When is my next cruise? Can I make it a thirty-day voyage? Is there a boat from Southampton to Tokyo?

In one of my favourite children’s books, The Painted Garden by Noel Streatfeild, the Winter family travel by boat from England to New York. One of the children muses that if days could be thought of as beads on a string, there are dull beads for schooldays and colourful beads for birthdays, but days at sea have such a different quality that they needed a separate string all of their own. They were right. And thus, here are some of the ways in which the Queen Mary 2 has charmed me. 

I have never been busier, with things I really want to do

Roz and I spent the day before we boarded manically loading books onto our Kindles. Despite the ‘largest floating library in the world’, we were terrified of running out of reading material and being bored. Chance would be a fine thing! Every night, the next day’s programme is delivered to our comfy little cabin, a shiny and yet charming four-page document listing our entertainment options from dawn until well after dusk. It rapidly became a thrill to pounce upon it (always delivered complete with two chocolates with the Cunard logo, of course) and we would read it together, marking the things we wanted to do. Remarkably, there were so many things we wanted to do that we had to skip some of them. Not just ‘oh, I suppose we could do that,’ but ‘hmm, if we were at home, we’d have paid for a ticket and travelled an hour to do that.’ We have loved the RADA poetry readings set to live music – not to mention their performances of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Pride and Prejudice (and their drama class… sadly I’ve been too busy to attend the other two and get my RADA certificate). We delighted in an ITN cameraman’s four outstanding and truly compelling talks on different experiences in the course of his job on the ten o’clock news. We smiled at another talk by a trainspotter about the history of the railway in Britain. We went to two excellent planetarium shows. I went to two art classes. Roz took a yoga class. We heard world-class singers. We watched award-winning ballroom dancers (and had a jive class with them). We hopped into the pool. We played shuffleboard and ping pong and watched a film. And every night we saw music and dancing in the theatre, then went to a beautiful dance, where we sipped cocktails, watched outstanding dancers spin around the ballroom, and even got up ourselves, including with dance hosts paid to make us feel cool and happy on the dance floor. Again and again as the days rolled by, I resolved to go and curl up in the library and read. Or kick back on our balcony. Or grab one of the tempting deck loungers. In fact I’ve got through less than three books in a week – much fewer than usual! I feel anxious that our seven days at sea are not nearly enough!

It is a genuinely Downton Abbey experience

My delight at this voyage extends far beyond the activities. The ship is beautiful. It is sumptuous and stylish and charming and spotless and has a very attractive 1920s look to it, and stairways down which to sweep in a ballgown. There is pretty much nothing crass or neon or flashing or 21^st century to sully the view on the Queen Mary 2. People dress smartly and attractively for the most part, absolutely in the spirit of things. When we want tea, we call for it, at any hour of the day, and it arrives promptly on a silver platter amidst smiles and politeness. At 3:30 we descend to the Queen’s Room to partake of a formal afternoon tea. Live music plays in the servers, whose procession is applauded politely and delightedly, as they fan out around the room, distributing tea and impeccable crustless sandwiches, glorious cakes, and gorgeous scones. Of course we dress for dinner, whether the night is designated informal or formal. Of course we stroll around the deck, nodding polite hellos to each other (with a special hello to the ‘friends of Dorothy’ we met on the first night). Of course we dance, elegant ball dancing as much as we can achieve. The children on board are polite, quiet, smiling and restrained. And on formal evenings, every man dons a bow tie. The highlight of the day is the captain’s message at noon, giving us our location, speed, temperature, distance from land, and – on most days – a time change of an hour. It all feels ceremonial and romantic and charming.

A technology holiday

We bought one of their expensive satellite internet packages and certainly we have used it but there is something refreshing about being so restricted in our phonetime. We find ourselves reading rather than checking Facebook or our emails. And when we do get a few moments to log in, we find that few of our emails were urgent, and few of the Facebook posts on our newsfeed were actually the sort of personal news from our friends that we care about. It may not last, but it drove home to us that we don’t necessarily receive much added value from checking Facebook, email and the like on a ten-minutely basis. What is also nice is that for the most part, nobody else is using screens either. Our eyes are largely unsullied by the trappings of the 21^st century. Other than different fashions, it feels surprisingly similar to some of the black and white films of such voyages. I’m on the look out for card sharks and heiresses.

It is rather delightful to find everything a hop, skip and a jump away

One might think it dull to be constrained to one ship for a whole week. In fact it is delightful. There are so many places to sit, so many entertainment venues, so many restaurants… and the surprising convenience of popping up to our room to grab a cardigan, or a glass of fizz on the balcony (or sneak a look at the next day’s program). Of course our room is always sparkling clean and beautifully tidy, so it’s always nice to return. But it’s not a hassle to go anywhere. And it means you can fit in more fun too: in a single morning I can go for a swim, have breakfast, attend a class, a talk, some live music, and still have time for a game of Scrabble in a cosy corner overlooking the water.

The scenery is glorious

Speaking of overlooking the water, it is neverendingly lovely to look out over the Atlantic. The waves from the vantage point of our eleventh floor balcony seem smooth and hypnotic, while from down on the second floor Scrabble nook, they’re thrilling. The decks are full of tasteful loungers and there is a surprising amount of sun. I was sad to not see dolphins but the water is fun in itself.

The food is rather excellent

Given our tickets, we were assigned to the ‘cheap’ restaurant, the Britannia, and braced ourselves for the worst . Wrong. The dinners have been delicious, and served with all the pomp and circumstance one could wish. The vegetarian enthusiasm has been impressive, with at least two starter and main course options… and an entire other menu we can order in advance if we don’t like the sound of these selections. There is also an almost-constant buffet, which is rather good. And the afternoon teas… the stuff of dreams. And last night’s 10:30pm ‘chocolate and ice buffet’ (choux pastry, chocolate, and ice sculptures) could only be dubbed divine decadence.

The people are remarkably friendly

I am sure that people who take a voyage on the Queen Mary 2 come from all sorts of life (and noting that you can actually do this trip for very little money if you get a good deal), and yet there is a lovely non-judgmental vibe to the boat. There seem to be very few gay couples on board and we had to summon our courage to get up and dance, but once we did, we felt far less shy than we would on a dance floor on land. We knew our dancing skills left something to be desired, but people were smiling and non-judgmental (or not obviously so). People seemed to get less irritated with each other. When we encountered a sparring pair of young siblings, they felt crass and out of place. The order of the day seems to be to embody charm to match our surroundings and bizarrely it seems to work. I can’t remember feeling more serene.

I have just spotted the first sign of land as we near the UK. There is seaweed floating past. I’ve seen the only other ship since we set off, and some seagulls. The signs are there: tomorrow our voyage ends. It’s hard to explain, but it HAS felt as though these seven days need a special necklace string all to themselves. It has been glorious. I wish it wasn’t ending yet. But there is the thrill of a return to London… and the possibility of another cruise sometime soon!