Where in the World is the QM2?

She watched the gap between ship and shore grow to a huge gulf. Perhaps this was a little like dying, the departed no longer visible to the others, yet both still existed, only in different worlds. ~ Susan Wiggs

August 15, 2019—in a fog bank south of Greenland

As we near the end of our journey, I’m starting to have homeward thoughts. The gap between us and our loved ones on land is still quite large, but it’s shrinking every day.

You can barely make out the extended wing of the bridge.

We woke to the melodious low tones of the QM2’s deep fog horn. I’m sure the bridge has ways of tracking other vessels but from time to time, the ship sends out the long message that “we are here—stay back!”

There is no horizon. Sky and water melt into a grey miasma and stepping onto the balcony means we’re coated with mist.  So today is an indoor sort of day.

We breakfasted on the Lido deck and then queued (Read: lined up. See how British I’m becoming!) for tickets to the live planetarium show. We’ve been to several of the canned presentations, but they aren’t much more than inverted projections of something you might see on the science channel. 

Today our visiting astronomy professor (whose 3^rd lecture we’ll be attending later today) will guide us through the night sky. (Eat your heart out, David Whigham! Wish you and Kristy were here!) We’re really looking forward to it.

After the planetarium show, we’ll go to choir practice. Let me preface this next bit by saying music is important to us. We are active in a wonderful church choir at home and enjoy singing in community choir as well. When we did the world cruise in 2018 on the Pacific Princess, the choir practice every sea day was a source of fun and friendship as well as making music. Our director presented us with full packets of music on the first sea day and we sang concerts in the theater at the end of each segment.

For choir here on the QM2, we’ve been given singles sheets of lyrics only (except for Jerusalem, a nationalistic English hymn for which we do have actual music, but no separate vocal parts other than the melody.) Even though the tunes of the rest of our repertoire are vaguely familiar, no one is certain of the exact rhythm or pitches. It’s like singing mass karaoke. 

We are being directed by three people at the same time—the 2 budding screamers from the production shows and the least accomplished pianist on board (he has yet to play the Jerusalem accompaniment as written. We’ve heard him in the pub taking requests so I’m sure he plays mostly by ear, which is a talent to be sure, but not one that leads to precision.) But since there are three of them in charge, and all of them are trying to bring us in at different times, the effect is disastrous. They are trying to teach the altos, tenors and basses some harmony parts by rote repetition—things we could learn in 5 minutes if we only had music.

At one point, they asked if any of us would like to have actual sheet music. Almost every hand (about 50 people) shot up.

The next day they announced that they weren’t allowed to use so much paper and anyway the copy machine was broken.

We’d be willing to pay a fee for music, just as we paid to get the art supplies for our watercolor class. Cunard is giving their guests who participate in choir very short shrift.  I was ready to give up on it, but then we started singing Bring Him Home from Les Miserables.

I can’t walk away from that beautiful prayer.

Later today, we’ll attend the third astronomy lecture and after supper we’re going to the movie—Bohemian Rhapsody.

More soon…