It rained this morning. Sat on the after deck, coffee in one hand, printed news sheet in the other, I got wet.

Ten minutes later I was dry again. I went back inside, didn’t want sunburn.

That was the highlight of the day. I’d attended a talk on the Battle of the Coral Sea, a carrier battle in World War 2, inconclusive in itself but an interesting prelude to Midway. The presenter was ex-army and had found an essay by someone else on the battle, copied it into Powerpoint and stood on the stage, reading out the words I’d already read through on every slide.

Terrible presentation technique aside, he also managed to not talk once about the Battle of the Coral Sea. Lots of context (there was a war on, if you hadn’t heard), Japanese expansion and threats to Australia, the US being drawn into the war by Pearl Harbor. Mention that two ships sunk (apparently the destroyer didn’t count, just the carriers) then straight onto ‘What happened next’. Or more accurately, what didn’t happen next: Japanese capturing a southern port in (what’s now) Papua New Guinea.

He didn’t mention the tactics used in the battle, the forces deployed, even who took part. I only know Australia was directly involved because the Japanese bombed an Australian heavy cruiser. IF the talk had been “The strategic context of the Battle of the Coral Sea” I’d have understood his chosen topics, although his presentation skills would still be lacking.

“The Battle of the Coral Sea” added to my google search list. Wikipedia will have better information than that talk.

The talk was scheduled because tomorrow we’ll be sailing over the sunken remains of the Lexington. We might even be in the coral sea already, I don’t know how far south it extends. Where does the Coral Sea stop and the Pacific Ocean start? The cruise could be adding so much value here 🙁

I went shopping. Two bottles of vodka for $28 (that’s USD). They hold onto them until you leave the ship, so it’s a good job I’m not hiring a car in Sydney. I looked at their chocolate selection: Fake American fascimiles of chocolate, products from Cadbury’s, various bags of ‘mini versions of popular brand chocolate bars’. I asked the man selling the vodka if they had any proper chocolate, but they don’t.

The guest services desk had no passengers when I passed it so I stopped, asked a young man there if there was any chocolate on board. He directed me to the shop, so I explained what actual chocolate is. He understood but couldn’t help: there is no proper chocolate on board.

There is however a display of Faberge eggs. I have no idea if they’re for sale or not but they have their own little room on the ship, proper display cabinets, no price tags. They’re pretty.

Overheard in the canteen, “Do you have any English Breakfast Tea?”

The crew member was admirably gentle with his response.

Dinner was a table for eight and a single woman sat by me. “I’m here with my girlfriend” she told me, then rushed to clarify that her girlfriend was just a golfing partner. She’s former Quantas cabin crew, has a granddaughter in London, works in education South of Sydney. A retired engineer from Canada was sat the other side of her, between them I had intelligent conversation for the first time in a while. They asked me about Brexit, but everybody asks me about that.

“Where are you from?” “I live in Nottingham, in England” “Nottingham? Oh, I’ve heard of that. So what about Brexit then?”

I hate ‘Where are you from’. I’m not ‘from’, I’ve moved around too much. “I’m from Planet Earth, it circles a middling star near the edge of one of the billions of galaxies. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

I’m trying to be nice to people, so I haven’t done that to anybody yet. It’s hard work, especially when someone I was being courteous towards told me I must be American. I chose to not respond, as he wouldn’t have liked the words.

I went for the French onion soup and roast pork belly.

The pork belly should’ve come with squash, brocolli and spinach, none of which I like, so I asked them to do me some potato and cabbage or carrots instead. They succeeded, although the brocolli still turned up. It’s why my plate wasn’t as neatly presented as everybody else’s, the chef clearly deciding I wasn’t worth the effort. More likely a junior chef that was ok mimicking the presentation of the set meals looking at my cabbage and panicking.

I hit the Blues bar in the evening. Took my book, found a quiet corner. The live music started, an interesting take on ‘blues’. The songs alternated male and female lead singers, occasionally combining together, and they sang well. People got up to dance, mainly old couples, a couple of old women dancing alone, one pre-teen girl managing to combine ballet and disco moves in time to the music. She was the only good dancer on the floor, even the couples that did more than shuffle were bouncy and jerky, no fluency or reading of the music.

It wasn’t good music to dance to anyway, solid thud thud beat throughout, even where the songs they were covering should have breaks. How you can cover Aretha Franklin with no breaks was almost educational.

I didn’t dance.

The Lido has the best music on the ship, for dancing, a constant stream of modern music that would be a decent main room set, a couple of classics but mainly just solid danceable music, good variety, nice changes in pace and some interesting songs.

Back in my room the duvet had been tucked under the mattress again. I need to train Roy and Moris to stop doing this.