Mrs Bloggins Cruises – Part One

Let no-one tell you that Ireland is just bogs and rain and mist. Living in South Wales, Mrs B. knows all about lush, damp places and having booked a short cruise from Cardiff more than a year ago, she was reconciled to the probability of coach excursions through wet greenery and dashing into tea shops to dry off. By the end of the 4 days visiting ports in Ireland, however, the tour guide was joking that ‘they had a meeting in Dublin and insist you must all stay’. This same tour guide, who was not a man of few words, fell silent now and then before remembering that he was supposed to keep up a steady stream of  more or less informative patter and Irish jokes. He had never seen the Beara Peninsula looking so beautiful (if he was to be believed).  Mrs Bloggins believed him, the scenery on day three of the cruise kept a smile on her face from clambering into the tender in Bantry Bay to clambering off the coach at Glengarriff and setting off to find a cafe to cool down.

Starting on day 3 makes little sense so a more organised report follows:

Afternoon and Evening of arrival on board.

The worryingly slow lifejacket drill was followed by an hour of watching the ship exiting Cardiff Dock via a very narrow lock.

 

Two tugs had to keep the ship straight in the lock and then followed her out into the Bristol Channel for a while.

 

Day 1 – Dublin and Glendalough.

Leaving Dublin, Mrs B. not envy those in these massive, modern cruise ships

Day 2 – Cobh Harbour, Cobh and Kinsale.

 

The excursion was to Kinsale, via a drive through the city of Cork. Kinsale reminded Mrs B. of a Cornish fishing village. An air-conditioned inn served delicious pumpkin-seed scones as the mid-day sun did not encourage too much walking about.

 

At Cobh, the sun was so hot and relentless Mrs B. became quite stroppy and had to disappear into a clothing and gift shop to get away from the relentless rays.

Half an hour later, leaving with a brand new, wide-brimmed Irish Aussie hat jammed onto head, she felt more able to resume a walk around town before returning to the ship.

What a ship! The Marco Polo has the classic lines of the Royal Yacht Britannia despite having been built in an East German shipyard in 1965.

The Bloggins’ cabin was on deck 4, the lowest you could go and still have a sea-view through somewhat scratched portholes.

The regular chugging of the engines did not disturb their sleep, at least not until morning manoeuvers into the next dock.

To be continued. Mrs B. has picture-editing fatigue!