And for my next trick …
Having been dug in with my ancient father on the south coast for most of this week, yesterday after lunch – whilst we sitting together in the drawing room – he said to me “I’ve been thinking …”, his standard preface to an announcement that he had some scheme or another with which he is going to require my assistance.
Yesterday’s was that he might undertake a six weeks-plus sea cruise to New Zealand on the other side of the world.
Leaving aside his frailty and mobility issues, but being a cynical old buzzard myself, I’m afraid I saw his main motivations as being more to escape the confines of his home – where for the most part he spends each day pretending to read a newspaper or looking at nothing in particular on the wall opposite his favourite chair and/or simultaneously seeking to evade the attentions of his carer – i.e. rather than any specific desire to be at sea and/or (at the other end) savour once again the sensory and scenic delights of the Land Of The Long White Cloud that he has visited many times before but of which I personally have so far had no experience.
As an initial move I therefore suggested that we invite round for a cup of tea a neighbouring couple known to be conversant with this sort of thing to spill some beans that might be helpful to our research.
Accordingly, over tea and cakes yesterday afternoon, we had such a conversation. Quite apart from the genuinely useful general information and opinions we extracted from our obliging guests, the session was greatly enhanced by their company which is always gossipy, amusing, unorthodox, cavalier, windmill-tilting and irreverent.
Refreshingly, in contrast to the reaction of most people in the presence of persons of great seniority (i.e. respect, concern, avoiding potentially difficult subjects), our guests have always displayed a disarming bluntness.
Explaining those aspects of a six-week sea voyage that might appeal to me, I was told by our lady guest, then sitting thigh-to-thigh beside my father on the sofa:
“Don’t worry, these cruises are practicality Senility City – everything is geared towards the old, decrepit, frail, ga-ga and/or disabled. Nothing is too much trouble. And if your father should peg it halfway there, it only costs about another £1,000 for the administrative bits and then £15 per night in the morgue freezer …”
Asked what she would list as the three downsides of sea cruise travel, she replied that there were only two: “One, finding yourself being trapped at meals or parties with riff-raff or boring/irritating people; and two, contracting dysentery or similar – cruise ships are riddled with bugs and it’s almost impossible to avoid catching something at some point”.
Much later on, she encouraged her husband to tell the story of the time they’d hired a car in Auckland.
The great thing about New Zealand, he explained to us, was that they drove on the proper side of the road. On the occasion referred to, they had just done the paperwork and picked up their hire car when – as they were leaving the compound – the heavens opened and whast practically amounted to a full-on monsoon began.
He had the window wipers going nineteen-to-the-dozen and was a little unsure of which route he was supposed to be taking to get to their destination (i.e. the place they were going to be staying), but his biggest issue was the deluge that was rendering his road visibility close to nil.
At this point they had reached a dual-carriageway and (he estimated) they were proceeding along the inside lane at about 50mph, which he regarded as the absolute maximum speed he could maintain whilst still being sure that he was in safe control of his vehicle and its environs.
Suddenly he became aware of a vehicle closing fast upon them from behind, accompanied by a blaring siren. He slowed down and then – under direction of hand signals from the gent in the passenger seat – pulled over to the side of the road.
Having stopped, he wound down his window as the policeman approached his car in order to learn more about perhaps (he thought) some traffic problem ahead further up the road.
He was wrong in that assumption. The policeman alleged that he had been driving at about 50mph (which was true) – but this was 20mph below the stated limit on the road-side signs.
“You mean the maximum speed sign, surely, officer …”
“No I don’t, sir. That is the minimum. You are driving far too slowly. If you don’t increase your speed to 70mph, I’m afraid I’ll have to give you a ticket.”
“But I have barely been driving this hire car for twenty minutes and I can hardly see thirty yards in front of it in these conditions …” he pointed out.
This, apparently, was of no concern to those who operate the traffic laws of New Zealand. With little ceremony the police officer told him he must speed up to 70mph – adding, for good measure, that should he go over it, he also risked getting a ticket for speeding.
