{"id":54656,"date":"2025-06-14T08:00:00","date_gmt":"2025-06-14T07:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/urbanmole.is\/?p=54656"},"modified":"2025-07-10T15:26:01","modified_gmt":"2025-07-10T14:26:01","slug":"from-currywurst-to-sorry-sauce-by-way-of-normandy-part-4","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/urbanmole.is\/?p=54656","title":{"rendered":"From Currywurst to Sorry Sauce by Way of Normandy (Part 4)"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/a>
Whale Island, Portsmouth<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

There are twelve people queueing at the boarding gate for the ship \u2014 twelve pilgrims on foot. And because we\u2019re at the back, behind two nuns, the security guard eyes me up like the last, least-nice disciple, Judas. I\u2019m invited for a gentle French frisking, front and back, at the end of which the guard seems somewhat disappointed. <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOK, you can go,\u201d he sighs, and returns to his post by the x-ray machine. Then The Mathematician\u2019s bag comes through.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cUm,\u201d he says to her, \u201cyou have a penknife. Do you have a penknife?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Mathematician pulls a face and frowns. \u201cA penknife,\u201d she says. \u201cWhere?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn your bag.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn my bag? No, I don\u2019t think I do \u2026\u201d She begins to rummage through. \u201cThis?\u201d she says, lifting out a mechanical pencil.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, that\u2019s a pencil. Behind your bathroom bag \u2014 I think there\u2019s a penknife.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHm \u2026 Oh, this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a toothbrush. A penknife \u2014 do you have one?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI really don\u2019t think I do. Behind<\/i> the bathroom bag, you say?\u201d She pulls a few things out and shrugs. \u201cCan you be a bit more specific?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He sighs. I flash him a thirty-silver smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOK.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He waves us on. We soon catch up with the nuns who are boarding the shuttle bus.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI completely forgot I had that,\u201d whispers The Mathematician.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I laugh. \u201cThat definitely won\u2019t work on the UK side.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m marginally disappointed that the weather\u2019s so good \u2014 I do like a bit of chop and bob.<\/p><\/blockquote><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

There\u2019s something exciting about taking a lift to a covered gangway and then climbing to the seventh deck of a berthed ship, being only slightly delayed by two nylon-clad worshippers insistently showing their passports to a guard who only wants to see a boarding pass. We make our way to the grand central staircase (more shopping mall than Titanic), climb three decks past bars and bistros, and exit through a games arcade onto the port side upper deck. <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ah, the vista! Sun, sea, and sand (beyond the large stretch of lorry lanes and car parks). Caen glistens off to the south, and to the north: open sea and England. I\u2019m marginally disappointed that the weather\u2019s so good \u2014 I do like a bit of chop and bob. The Mathematician\u2019s delighted. Even a glassy sea\u2019s a wave too many for her. <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI fancy a bite of olive bread,\u201d I say. \u201cWant some?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSure.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We dip into the bag of Aux Normandises\u2019 delights and retrieve a baguette. We break bread.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s really<\/i> olivey,\u201d says The Mathematician.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It really is. Most every pore is packed and black and tender. We stand there and chew, eyeing the gulls like the French of a thousand years past, waiting for the last horses to park before casting off to conquer Harold(*).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A couple of lads join us \u2014 bronzed (burnt) and British, clutching beers. They laugh and lark about, find some plastic chairs and saddle up for the ride. <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cStill looking forward to going back?\u201d says The Mathematician.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I give it some thought.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Most everyone has a bevvy and a packet of Pipers crisps.<\/p><\/blockquote><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

There is, of course, a bar onboard, and once we\u2019ve left most of the coast behind, we head down to grab a table with a sea view. It\u2019s the Blue Note Bar, tastefully decorated with the odd saxophone or two and a few pictures of jazz musicians. A third of the tables are filled with my landsfolk. The rest are empty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAt least they\u2019re upright,\u201d says The Mathematician.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

True. On the deck below, by the information desk, we saw several people in various states of sprawl, like the aftermath of a zombie shooter. One lady lay draped across a couch. Cheaper than a cabin \u2026 <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFancy a drink?\u201d I say, eyeing the bar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a bit early.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s nearly 6. I\u2019ll have a gander at what\u2019s on tap.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

John Smith\u2019s Extra Smooth is the only thing that\u2019s dark and not fizzy. As the barman pulls me a pint, I look about at the other tables. Most everyone has a bevvy and a packet of Pipers crisps. <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCreepy,\u201d I say when I get back to my table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat is?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHave a look around.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

She glances at the old couple near us, the table with three young lads playing cards, the group wearing haulage firm t-shirts. She half stands to check out the rest of the place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWow, everyone<\/i> has a bag of crisps.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I nod. \u201cI think I know what all those lorries were delivering: English expeditionary supplies.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She takes an apple from her bag. \u201cWhat did you get?\u201d she asks, nodding at my glass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSomething I haven\u2019t had in ages. Want to try?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She shakes her head. \u201cIt\u2019s a bit early.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I tune in to the rustle and crunch of the place. It sounds like locusts at a harvest. (More like guinea pigs at a carrot but I allow myself a little beer-perbole.) I also hear something else, something I haven\u2019t heard in ages: \u201cSorry\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019d forgotten how much the English apologise. For everything<\/i>. Maybe I\u2019ve been in Germany too long, but most sentences there don\u2019t start or end with sorry (or contain the word anywhere, for that matter). I hear \u201cNah mate, sorry, but \u2026,\u201d as someone insists on a footy point of order; \u201cOh, sorry!\u201d when someone accidentally queue-jumps at the bar. There\u2019s sorry for passing too close to you; sorry they didn\u2019t have the Pipers you wanted; sorry for hogging the hand dryer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two men sit a couple of tables from us, themselves a few tables apart. Realising they have more in common than being on the same ship, they strike up a conversation that ranges from cars to football to the state of the government (so typical pub stuff). After thirty minutes of this, one guy says, \u201cI\u2019ll just come over. Then I don\u2019t have to shout.\u201d \u201cOh, sorry,\u201d says the other guy.  <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

When the pub quiz starts \u2014 hosted by two unflappable young women \u2014 I\u2019m reminded of something else: self deprecation. The room\u2019s abuzz as people form teams or decide to go it alone, going up to the stage to get a little console with A, B, C, and D buttons on it. The chatty guys form a team. “Oh, I’m gonna do absolutely rubbish at this,\u201d the mover says, smiling, as he sits.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Towards the end of the quiz (which is actually pretty good), one of the hosts reads the following question off of the TV: \u201cWhere do Chinese Gooseberries come from?\u201d Well, China, but that isn\u2019t on the list. The correct answer is New Zealand (rebranded there as a kiwi).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“That’s the first question I got right. Literally,\u201d the host with the mic says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The other holds up her hand in an “0” shape. “I got none,” she proudly declares.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I look at The Mathematician.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat would never happen in Germany,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She shakes her head in agreement. No one there boasts about how little they know. <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

C\u00e9line Dion\u2019s My Heart Will Go On starts playing.<\/p><\/blockquote><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

There are several more events onboard, one of the favourites being Jukebox Bingo. We still have a few hours to go before reaching Portsmouth, so I opt for a second round of hoppy hydration. <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs it normally this quiet?\u201d I ask the barman as he pours. <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looks up from the glass at the empty tables.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, no,\u201d he says. \u201cIt\u2019s just early in the season. In summer, this will be full.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf British?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I take my seat as a clip from C\u00e9line Dion\u2019s My Heart Will Go On starts playing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cUm, I think we\u2019ll skip that one,\u201d says the host. \u201cDon\u2019t think that\u2019s really appropriate to play on a ship.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The cool air and sea smell is calming. I\u2019m convinced I catch a whiff of vinegar.<\/p><\/blockquote><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

We pass the Isle of Wight shortly before sunset. It looks beautiful. Busy, but beautiful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere\u2019s so much shipping around here,\u201d I say pointing. <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tankers queue on the horizon, and numerous ferries ply the lanes. It feels a bit like pulling onto the dual carriageway after a county drive. <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

We pack up our stuff and head up on deck. I want to see the city as we come in. The cool air and sea smell is calming. It gets a little saltier as we cruise past Southsea and Old Portsmouth, and I\u2019m convinced I catch a whiff of vinegar in the air. <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cChips?\u201d says The Mathematician.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI reckon. Just like old times.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She squeezes my arm, then sets about taking photos. I just enjoy gazing out at the gloaming-cloaked streets. It all looks pretty small \u2014 which it is, though the height of the ship helps somewhat. I see the 15th-century Round Tower, the 16th-century castle, the 17th-century Point Battery, the 19th-century piers. (But not in that order.) Some 21st-century people wave at us from atop the Tower. We wave back. I used to do that as a kid.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/a>
Old Portmsouth<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh my God,\u201d I say, catching sight of the Spinnaker Tower. It\u2019s a nice piece of design in its own right \u2014 very nautically themed \u2014 but it\u2019s lit in gaudy purple, blue, and green neon like a psychonaut\u2019s Christmas tree. <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s, um\u2014 was it always like that?\u201d says The Mathematician.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think I\u2019d remember \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We get a great view of the HMS Victory\u2019s bow and stern as we pass \u2014 the rest is hidden by a giant tent. Seems the flagship of the Royal Navy\u2019s undergoing some restoration work. (She is<\/i> the  <\/span>oldest naval vessel still in commission.) We hear a man nearby bark out \u201cFire!<\/i>\u201d, followed by a cannon going off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThink they knew you were coming,\u201d says The Mathematician. <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

We pass an aircraft carrier and a few destroyers before coming alongside Whale Island, with just a sliver of light on the horizon, and are called back inside to disembark. As we step away from the magic and into the LED lighting, we\u2019re told by staff that, as foot passengers, we\u2019ll have to wait for all the vehicles to drive off before we can leave. You see, the Portsmouth International Port\u2019s being refurbished, which will make things really nice for passengers in the future, but here in the present, there\u2019s no functioning gangway. They\u2019re going to have to send a bus in to pick us up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Forty-five minutes later, we\u2019re on said bus and heading to border control which, briefly, goes something like this:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Border control guy (taking my British passport): Hello there. Are you returning home?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Me: No, I live in Germany.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Border control guy: Oh? Really? [Frowns] Why are you here then?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Me: Visiting my parents. It\u2019s their golden wedding anniversary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Border control guy: Ah. And when do you plan to go back?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Me: Next week. Wednesday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Mathematician: Tuesday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Me: Right, Tuesday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Border control guy: Live here, do they, your parents?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Me: Yep, just a 30 minute walk from here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Border control guy: Uh huh. OK, have a nice stay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Mathematician, with a German passport, gets asked no questions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWow, talk about a warm welcome,\u201d I say as we leave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know. And you\u2019re one of them<\/i>!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cApparently not if you live in the EU.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

We set about that 30 minute walk, marvelling at how tiny the houses are, even from down here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

(*) Pedants beware: I know they didn\u2019t launch from Caen. (See here<\/a>.) They did eat baguettes though.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

Next week: The scion returns, and walks right past the front door.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Yo ho ho and a bar full of rum! (And jukebox karaoke.)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":54654,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[213],"tags":[228,234,246,233,232,227],"class_list":{"0":"post-54656","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-cf","8":"tag-caen","9":"tag-english-channel","10":"tag-gwasaga","11":"tag-portsmouth","12":"tag-ship","13":"tag-travel"},"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/urbanmole.is\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/54656","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/urbanmole.is\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/urbanmole.is\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/urbanmole.is\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/urbanmole.is\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=54656"}],"version-history":[{"count":20,"href":"https:\/\/urbanmole.is\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/54656\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":54714,"href":"https:\/\/urbanmole.is\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/54656\/revisions\/54714"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/urbanmole.is\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/54654"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/urbanmole.is\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=54656"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/urbanmole.is\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=54656"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/urbanmole.is\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=54656"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}