A Travelling Sprout

A Sprout Sails out of Sydney (but doesn’t get very far)
By Shelley Banks

I’m not sure who came up with the term frequent floater but it doesn’t have the same ring to it as frequent flyer. I’m not sure how many cruises you need to go on before the first term applies, but since the cruise I was about to board was only my third, I didn’t think I could claim it, even if I wanted to (which I don’t). However, as it turned out, the ship didn’t spend much time cruising. It mostly stayed still, floating on top of the ocean, so maybe the term did apply.

Our three-day cruise from Sydney was 1980s-themed. I boarded, along with my lifelong friends, dressed in matching Girls Just Want to Have Fun t-shirts, leg warmers, scrunchies and neon plastic earrings.  We certainly looked the part, but so did almost everyone else. The effort some of the passengers put in was breathtaking.

After a smooth boarding process, we found our adjoining cabins, each with its own balcony. The doors between the individual balconies could be opened, and we had visions of sitting there in a group watching the world go by. But as we discovered over the three days, all we saw were different views of Sydney.

Once we’d unpacked, we headed off to explore the ship to see what we could find; however, we were all hungry, so we only got as far as the first restaurant we came to. It turned out to be a buffet, and while the food was good, the behaviour of some of the other diners was not, picking up food, inspecting it, then putting it back for some unsuspecting person to select.

Having filled our stomachs with food not touched by others, we continued our exploration of the ship until it was time for the sail away party, all the while marvelling at the efforts made by our fellow passengers, their dedication to the 1980s evident.

At 4 pm, the ship’s horn sounded, and we pulled away from Circular Quay, still suitably appareled in our 1980s gear, doing the Nutbush as we sailed through the harbour.

When darkness descended, we attired ourselves in the next of our finest 1980s gear and headed for dinner. The restaurant that night had a Mediterranean-influenced menu, with plenty of options that took our fancy. And as we found out, you could order as many of the dishes as you wanted. You weren’t restricted to one entrée, one main and one dessert. But that’s all we could fit in anyway.

Dinner was followed by dancing to the live bands and DJs that were onboard, who were playing the songs we listened to as teenagers. And we stayed up until a time that was more suited to our teenage selves than our current age. But nevertheless, we had a ball. And it was interesting to see so many age groups on the ship. Some of the other passengers were actually teenagers, so it’s unlikely that their parents even knew each other in the 1980s.

The following day, we partook in ship life activities including lounging by the pool, drinking cocktails (some who were brave enough got in the pool and went down the waterslide even though it was winter). We also joined in the fun at bingo (it’s amazing how competitive we got when there were only a few numbers to go). We played 80s music trivia and went up to the highest point of the ship to get an amazing view. And what did we see? Sydney. Overnight and for most of the day, we hadn’t moved.

When nighttime rolled around, we decided to dress up for dinner rather than go in costume again. That evening’s choice of restaurant was Italian, and while the food was nice, the entertainment was even better with the waitstaff taking centre stage and singing as we ate.

Singing became the theme of the night as karaoke followed, and almost everyone who got up was fantastic. And some so young we wondered how they knew the songs, including a group of four twenty-somethings who gave us a rousing version of Piano Man complete with a harmonica they just happened to have with them. Karaoke was followed by more dancing and then tumbling into bed at a far later time than we were used to.

Our last full day afloat followed much the same pattern as the day before, but we discovered a vantage point where no one else was around, something that is hard to do on a ship with around 2500 passengers. It was a great spot to take in the surrounding views, which, of course, took in Sydney, again.

For our last dinner onboard, we were back in costume as we headed to the Asian restaurant, and again, the waitstaff put on a performance as we dined. Then there was more dancing, music, and more passengers’ costumes to be marvelled at. Just before we headed back to our cabins, we went to the top deck to look at the stars. And see Sydney again.

At least that night, the ship started sailing because when we woke up, we were docked at Circular Quay.

Musing

The Gift of Service
By Shelley Banks

Earlier this year, we spent a few days in Rockhampton. While we were there, we saw some of the sights and caught up with people we know. We also did a spot of shopping while we were in town and one shop in particular stood out. It had been a department store once upon a time but now it just sells clothes and accessories, women’s on one side and men’s on the other.

The store, having been there for over one hundred and sixty years, still retained some of its original design features including a grand, winding timber staircase in the middle of the store and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. What it also had was the type of customer service that also comes from another era, as do the staff.

We didn’t see anyone who looked under the age of 75 and pearls and knitted cardigans were de rigueur, and they provided the sort of old-fashioned service you don’t see anymore. The sort that emphasises personal attention, going the extra mile, and polite and polished assistance. And when we’d made our selection, all purchases were carefully wrapped before being put in bags.

Usually, when we head to similar types of shops, it’s either hard to find a staff member, or if you see something you like but not in your size, they tell you to order it online rather than getting it into the store for you. And if you do find something you want to buy, there’s a long wait to pay for it because there is only one person behind the counter.

While at times, we felt like we’d stepped back in time, it was nice to experience that kind of service, so different to what we’re used to. It’s a shame that this store is so far away. The type of service the staff provided made the shopping experience far more pleasurable than usual. If the store was in our hometown, it would be our first port of call if we were after any of the goods on offer. It’s probably a good thing that it’s not though, otherwise we might be tempted to make more purchases than we need.

Short Story

The Night Before Christmas
By Shelley Banks

‘It needs more tinsel!’

Callie turned around at the sound of the excited declaration to see her youngest daughter running around the Christmas tree, tinsel in hand.

From where Callie was standing, she couldn’t see a part of the tree that didn’t have tinsel already on it. But she smiled at the joy she could see on her daughter’s face.

With only a few weeks left until Christmas, Callie was pleased with how organised she was this year. All the presents had been bought, the food for Christmas lunch ordered and the invites to family sent.

As the days flew by, Callie got more excited. She’d always loved Christmas and before she knew it, Christmas Eve had arrived.

As she walked outside to turn on their Christmas lights, she saw their neighbour Bill on his verandah so she waved.

Bill waved back but it wasn’t the enthusiastic gesture he usually gave.

As Callie went about her day, her thoughts turned back to Bill. Something about the way he’d looked didn’t seem right so in the afternoon, she walked over and knocked on the door.

‘Hello Callie,’ Bill said. ‘What can I do for you? You must be busy with Christmas preparations.’

Callie nodded. ‘I am but I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. How are your plans for tomorrow going? Is everything ready?’

The look on Bill’s face changed and he shook his head. ‘My son and his family won’t make it now. Their flight was cancelled and they can’t get another one until Boxing Day.’

‘That’s dreadful. I know how much you were looking forward to spending Christmas with them.’

Bill nodded. ‘It would have been wonderful. I’ve been looking forward to it since they told me they were coming all those months ago. At least I’ll get to see them on Boxing Day.’

Callie could tell by the tone of his voice that seeing them then wouldn’t make up for not seeing them tomorrow.

‘Come and spend Christmas Day with us,’ Callie offered.

Bill shook his head. ‘I don’t want to intrude.’

‘You wouldn’t be intruding and I’m not taking no for an answer. I wouldn’t enjoy Christmas Day at all knowing you were across the road alone.’

The following morning, Bill came over at the time Callie had told him.

From the minute he walked in, Bill was the centre of everything. Callie’s eldest daughter directed him to the prime position in front of the tree while her youngest daughter gave him the first present to unwrap. Luckily Callie always kept a supply of presents in a cupboard in case one was needed. And from the size of the smile on Bill’s face when he was handed the gift, she was glad she did.

He joined in when the children wanted to sing Christmas carols and when it came time for lunch, Callie sat him at the head of the table.

Bill stayed long into the afternoon and when he left, Callie gave him some leftovers in case he was hungry that night. And he invited them all to join his family for lunch the following day.

Bill’s Boxing Day lunch was twice the size it was meant to be, but it was also twice as joyful.

Something Light

The Palaver of Prawns
By Shelley Banks

Certain things are associated with Christmas—Santa, carols, tinsel, gifts, mistletoe, Rudolph, a partridge in a pear tree and lunch on Christmas Day (where everyone overeats). And for many of us, that lunch includes prawns, the getting of which at this time of year turns into a real palaver.

Apart from the fact that the price goes up dramatically, only to go down again after Christmas, it’s a drama just physically getting them. The two options for us (if we want the good prawns), are to either line up at 4 am on Christmas Eve and stay in the queue for two hours before getting in the door at seafood shop number one, or, at seafood shop number two, get stuck in a traffic jam trying to get there, park streets away and, even though you can pre-order and select your pick up time, you still end up standing around for ages waiting because this particular shop’s pick up process is woeful.

Weighing up the options each year, we usually decide on option two because we don’t want to get up at 3.00 am to make it to the queue by 4.00 am.

So, after printing the order form because it’s not editable, filling it in, scanning it and emailing it to the shop, all that’s left to do is arrive on Christmas Eve at our dedicated pick-up time. Each year we hope for a smoother pick-up process but we’ve yet to experience one.

Instead, after parking a long way away and trudging back to the shop, we wait with hordes of others while one person goes to the cold room to get the orders, but only one at a time. What was meant to be a quick pick-up turns into a forty-five-minute wait, not to mention the small fortune we have the privilege of paying. Then we trudge back to our vehicle, push our way into the line of cars belonging to other prawn purchasers and head straight home so we can get the prawns into the fridge.

It shouldn’t take such an effort to get this Christmas lunch staple, but it always does. Maybe this year, someone else can get the prawns.

Books

If you like my short stories I’ve published ten books.