Well 16 months have passed since I wrote that last post, and at least four of my seven followers, (nine at peak times), have asked me why I suddenly stopped. I have to say that it was this simple; it just became too much. Taking care of two dotty parents, writing about it and photographing it at the same time, meant I just didn’t switch off, and given the lack of easy communication with the outside world, I decided that the blog would be put on the back burner to be picked up at a later date. (I didn’t expect it would be quite so much later). Continuing with the photographic project was easier in the sense that I was still able to dedicate plenty of time to Mum and Dad, although they might have found staring down the lens of my camera a little tiresome after a while.
I’d also got to the point where I was running out of chirpy anecdotes about life on board. I have no idea if that was because my brain was gradually reducing itself to something resembling fudge after nine days of the same conversation, and one day started to resemble the next. I did start to wonder if there is such a thing as cerebral repetitive stress injury?
Some respite was to be had on day 10 when we docked in Barcelona prior to the long “silent” slog back up to Southampton. My good friend Erica discovered the true meaning of the term verbal diarrhoea when we met for lunch and I quite literally decompressed over a couple of very large glasses of wine. I think those two hours were what gave me enough strength to face the next three days at sea.
I am pleased to say though that I did discover a way of disconnecting temporarily from all that was going on around me. I’m not sure I would ever have picked up ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ had my situation not required extreme measures, but it proved to be the perfect antidote as I finally slumped into a free sun lounger on Day 11, wrapping myself up in three hoodies in the process as the ship rolled through a force six and up towards the Bay of Biscay and onto the home straight.