Tuesday 15th November
Sunny
Poor Rosebud. This thing with the captain must really have meant a lot to him.
I was taking the sun on deck with Parker and Williams (who's now asking to go ashore to French Guiana for some sun, sand, sea, surf and samba. I wasn't quite sure which part of Latin America samba comes from so I didn't pick him up on it, but I don't think it is French Guiana.) Anyway, we were taking the sun when this amazing vision appeared. It was Rosebud, swathed in coloured blankets and cloths and with pearls and diamonds dripping from his neck and arms, as well as other glittery objects such as the silver tea service and some little metal things that were probably technical bits of the boat. I was so happy to see him above deck and smiling that I scarcely registered his strange appearance at first.
"Hello, Rosebud, old boy!" I cried, slapping him on the back and setting off a jingling that took some time to die away.
"Hello!" he replied brightly. "I'm a butterfly!" He gave a flutter of his wings to demonstrate this statement. It was at this point that I realised something was wrong.
"Why don't you come and sit down for a minute, old chap?" I suggested. But he was off and capering all over the deck. Suddenly he caught sight of the water glittering down below.
"Sea!" he cried ecstatically. "Plenty more fish in the sea!" he added launching himself off the railing. Luckily he landed in a lifeboat- if he'd hit the water, the blankets and tea service and so on would surely have dragged him down.
I managed to persuade him to go back to his cabin, where I put him to bed with the curtains drawn and an ice-pack on his head. But I can't cure his heartbreak.
Tuesday, 28 November 2006
Monday, 27 November 2006
Day 19
Monday 24th November
Sunny
Passing South America now. Still haven't heard the last of Williams though. He's been pointing out that, if there isn't sangria, there are squid, scallops, seafood in general, shells, snakes, savages and stars. He seems to think that the accuracy of his wishlist was my only objection to his plan. I've stopped replying. He shuts up slightly quicker if you ignore him.
Rosebud is still in his cabin. I'm quite worried about him.
Sunny
Passing South America now. Still haven't heard the last of Williams though. He's been pointing out that, if there isn't sangria, there are squid, scallops, seafood in general, shells, snakes, savages and stars. He seems to think that the accuracy of his wishlist was my only objection to his plan. I've stopped replying. He shuts up slightly quicker if you ignore him.
Rosebud is still in his cabin. I'm quite worried about him.
Sunday, 26 November 2006
Day 18
Sunday 23rd November
Sunny
Oh dear. I don't quite know how to tell you this, Diary, but things have not worked out as Rosebud planned. Briefly, the captain chucked him. Which means I'm not steering any more, but also that Rosebud's bed sitting in his cabin staring at the wall for hours on end answering all questions in monosyllables, and therefore cannot be considered a Good Thing.
I went down to see how he was after lunch. He didn't say anything. I told him he deserved better than the kind of cad that dumps people without a second thought, casting them off like an old glove, and pointed out that there were plenty more fish in the sea (to be honest, Diary, I was probably burbling rather; you know how it is when you have to do the whole conversation yourself and can't see what the other person's thinking. A bit like answer phones, really). But I don't think any of it went in. He looked like he was somewhere that words couldn't reach. So I sat for a long time just squeezing his hand in silent sympathy.
Actually, I'm surprised by how badly he's taken it, I didn't realise the captain was anything more than a fling to pas a long voyage. But hopefully this is just the initial shock and he'll be over it soon.
Sunny
Oh dear. I don't quite know how to tell you this, Diary, but things have not worked out as Rosebud planned. Briefly, the captain chucked him. Which means I'm not steering any more, but also that Rosebud's bed sitting in his cabin staring at the wall for hours on end answering all questions in monosyllables, and therefore cannot be considered a Good Thing.
I went down to see how he was after lunch. He didn't say anything. I told him he deserved better than the kind of cad that dumps people without a second thought, casting them off like an old glove, and pointed out that there were plenty more fish in the sea (to be honest, Diary, I was probably burbling rather; you know how it is when you have to do the whole conversation yourself and can't see what the other person's thinking. A bit like answer phones, really). But I don't think any of it went in. He looked like he was somewhere that words couldn't reach. So I sat for a long time just squeezing his hand in silent sympathy.
Actually, I'm surprised by how badly he's taken it, I didn't realise the captain was anything more than a fling to pas a long voyage. But hopefully this is just the initial shock and he'll be over it soon.
Saturday, 25 November 2006
Day 17
Saturday 22nd November
Cloudy
With all the excitement, I forgot to mention that we reached the Americas a couple of days ago. We're now sailing down past Central America. Williams has been begging all morning to be allowed to stop off at a Caribbean island paradise for some "sun, sea, sand, surf and sangria". I told him we have a schedule to keep to, that we're here on our way to do some serious exploring, not on a pleasure jaunt. Besides, I don't think they serve sangria in the Caribbean. He went away muttering darkly about "exigences de male" or something but he hasn't accepted yet that we're definitely not stopping, but keeps asking every five minutes. Why won't he learn that no means no?
Cloudy
With all the excitement, I forgot to mention that we reached the Americas a couple of days ago. We're now sailing down past Central America. Williams has been begging all morning to be allowed to stop off at a Caribbean island paradise for some "sun, sea, sand, surf and sangria". I told him we have a schedule to keep to, that we're here on our way to do some serious exploring, not on a pleasure jaunt. Besides, I don't think they serve sangria in the Caribbean. He went away muttering darkly about "exigences de male" or something but he hasn't accepted yet that we're definitely not stopping, but keeps asking every five minutes. Why won't he learn that no means no?
Friday, 24 November 2006
Day 16
Friday 21st November
Rainy
Well, I had a long talk with Rosebud. I didn't want to, Diary- I'd decided yesterday that if I never saw him again it'd be too soon- but he cornered me on my way out from breakfast and begged me with pleading eyes and trembling lips to hear what he had to say. I could never resist that expression. We went back to his cabin for a long discussion.
He told me he knew I was upset about what happened at university. And he explained it all from his point of view. First, he told me that he had a voracious sexual appetite. This made it impossible for him to live with me platonically as I'd suggested- he'd always have ended up nipping out for a man or two and I would inevitably have been jealous. But he couldn't just tell me that at the time. He was worried that if he did, I'd have felt compelled to extend the offer to a non-platonic relationship. Not only was he sure I'd regret that in the end, he also thought it highly likely that we'd end up quarrelling sooner or later and he'd lose his best friend. But he didn't trust himself to say no if I offered, because he wanted me badly. So he decided that reply would be the best he could give. It wasn't even really a lie- if you take "that way" to mean "platonically".
And that was why he'd kept things with the captain secret- and because it could lose the captain his job if his crew found out. Now that I was no longer angry with him, he told me all about how it had happened.
It seems that both Rosebud and the captain had been genuinely seasick to begin with. The captain usually does fall victim to the ship's motion for the first day or so of a voyage, but gets better after that and returns to his duties. They bumped into each other on their way to their respective cabins as they both begain to feel unwell. Literally- the captain was coming down the C-deck stairs when the ship gave a sudden lurch and he fell on top of Rosebud, who was just passing beneath. Rosebud felt a lurch in his stomach that had little to do with seasickness. As the captain was apologising, Rosebud told him he was looking rather green and suggested they both go to his cabin to lie down as it was nearer.
As they lay on separate beds through the stormy afternoon they looked across at each other every now and again and exchanged weak smiles. Those few hours, Rosebud tells me, seemed to be a golden eternity without beginning or end, and they the only people in the world. Although they were feeling too ill to say anything, they understood each other perfectly.
The next day they were both feeling much better. They sat up in bed and chattered away for hours, until the silences became longer, the accidental meetings of eyes became more suggestive, and they moved into Stage 3: Rampant Sex. Which kept them both busy for the next week and a half.
It's quite sweet really, Diary. But who would have thought it? Old Rosebud is one of them. Strange really, it doesn't bother me if it's Rosebud. Better keep it from the others though. Don't want them acting funny or calling names because he'd different.
Rainy
Well, I had a long talk with Rosebud. I didn't want to, Diary- I'd decided yesterday that if I never saw him again it'd be too soon- but he cornered me on my way out from breakfast and begged me with pleading eyes and trembling lips to hear what he had to say. I could never resist that expression. We went back to his cabin for a long discussion.
He told me he knew I was upset about what happened at university. And he explained it all from his point of view. First, he told me that he had a voracious sexual appetite. This made it impossible for him to live with me platonically as I'd suggested- he'd always have ended up nipping out for a man or two and I would inevitably have been jealous. But he couldn't just tell me that at the time. He was worried that if he did, I'd have felt compelled to extend the offer to a non-platonic relationship. Not only was he sure I'd regret that in the end, he also thought it highly likely that we'd end up quarrelling sooner or later and he'd lose his best friend. But he didn't trust himself to say no if I offered, because he wanted me badly. So he decided that reply would be the best he could give. It wasn't even really a lie- if you take "that way" to mean "platonically".
And that was why he'd kept things with the captain secret- and because it could lose the captain his job if his crew found out. Now that I was no longer angry with him, he told me all about how it had happened.
It seems that both Rosebud and the captain had been genuinely seasick to begin with. The captain usually does fall victim to the ship's motion for the first day or so of a voyage, but gets better after that and returns to his duties. They bumped into each other on their way to their respective cabins as they both begain to feel unwell. Literally- the captain was coming down the C-deck stairs when the ship gave a sudden lurch and he fell on top of Rosebud, who was just passing beneath. Rosebud felt a lurch in his stomach that had little to do with seasickness. As the captain was apologising, Rosebud told him he was looking rather green and suggested they both go to his cabin to lie down as it was nearer.
As they lay on separate beds through the stormy afternoon they looked across at each other every now and again and exchanged weak smiles. Those few hours, Rosebud tells me, seemed to be a golden eternity without beginning or end, and they the only people in the world. Although they were feeling too ill to say anything, they understood each other perfectly.
The next day they were both feeling much better. They sat up in bed and chattered away for hours, until the silences became longer, the accidental meetings of eyes became more suggestive, and they moved into Stage 3: Rampant Sex. Which kept them both busy for the next week and a half.
It's quite sweet really, Diary. But who would have thought it? Old Rosebud is one of them. Strange really, it doesn't bother me if it's Rosebud. Better keep it from the others though. Don't want them acting funny or calling names because he'd different.
Thursday, 23 November 2006
Day15
Thursday 20th November
Drizzle
Ok, Diary, I've pulled myself together a bit, so here goes. What happened yesterday.
I went to see Rosebud as planned with some gruel. I knocked, but there was no reply so I went in, and to my great shock I saw-
Let's approach it in another way. Rosebud wasn't really ill. The captain wasn't really ill. They were really there together on the bed. What were they doing, Diary? Let's just say it was engrossing them enough that they didn't notice my entry until they heard my scream. Why am I upset, I can hear you asking? What should I care if they want to spend time together? Well, Diary, it's mainly the secrecy. How could my best friend keep something like that from me? How could he lie to me?
No, you're right, that's not all. My thoughts keep going back to our time in college many years ago. We had just finished our third year. I was besotted with Rosebud. He was the prettiest undergraduate in the university, with his sparkling eyes and the mouth that earned him his soubriquet. Everyone wanted him to sit on their lap, but it was I who became his best friend. I used to buy him ribbons when I passed the milliner's on my way to classes. Then one day I got too greedy and came close to spoiling it all. I asked him to live with me after we graduated- in a purely platonic relationship, of course, I've never been one for all that hanky-panky. As I waited breathlessly for his answer I couldn't look at his face. He took my hand and I looked up into his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he told me, and there was real sadness in his face, "I can't do that. I just don't feel that way about men."
I just don't feel that way about men. His words, Diary. And I believed him. But after what I saw yesterday, I know that it was just me he didn't want. And that cuts, Diary. It cuts right into me.
Drizzle
Ok, Diary, I've pulled myself together a bit, so here goes. What happened yesterday.
I went to see Rosebud as planned with some gruel. I knocked, but there was no reply so I went in, and to my great shock I saw-
Let's approach it in another way. Rosebud wasn't really ill. The captain wasn't really ill. They were really there together on the bed. What were they doing, Diary? Let's just say it was engrossing them enough that they didn't notice my entry until they heard my scream. Why am I upset, I can hear you asking? What should I care if they want to spend time together? Well, Diary, it's mainly the secrecy. How could my best friend keep something like that from me? How could he lie to me?
No, you're right, that's not all. My thoughts keep going back to our time in college many years ago. We had just finished our third year. I was besotted with Rosebud. He was the prettiest undergraduate in the university, with his sparkling eyes and the mouth that earned him his soubriquet. Everyone wanted him to sit on their lap, but it was I who became his best friend. I used to buy him ribbons when I passed the milliner's on my way to classes. Then one day I got too greedy and came close to spoiling it all. I asked him to live with me after we graduated- in a purely platonic relationship, of course, I've never been one for all that hanky-panky. As I waited breathlessly for his answer I couldn't look at his face. He took my hand and I looked up into his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he told me, and there was real sadness in his face, "I can't do that. I just don't feel that way about men."
I just don't feel that way about men. His words, Diary. And I believed him. But after what I saw yesterday, I know that it was just me he didn't want. And that cuts, Diary. It cuts right into me.
Wednesday, 22 November 2006
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