LAST POST OF THE TRIP.... PROMISE!!!

Normally I wouldn't consider writing two blogs in the space of a week for fear you'd all get bored of it and stop reading them. But as I perch on the bottom step of the entrance to the Internet cafe in St Kitts like a stylish street urchin, poised waiting for it to open, I have time to reflect on the last 22 days of my travels. 

I did my final show last night and when I started penning my tales of the high seas I vowed to myself I wouldn't talk about the shows on my blog

which I won't, but I do want to draw upon how extremely lucky I feel to have been able to entertain four separate sets of audiences in 22 days, work for a cruise line I deem to be one of the best in the world (its frequently voted so) and to have started an impressive 'base tan' upon which I can pile bottles and bottles of St Tropez before my bridesmaid dress trying-on session next week. As we are all aware, brown is the new skinny. 

My fabulous sister in law to be has arranged for us to go try on some 'fancy frocks' next week and whilst I am V Excited at the prospect of a girlie lunch with her, both of our mums and the rest of the bridesbirds, I can't help wishing I'd had another couple of months to fight the flab before the eventuality. I've been to the gym as often as I could manage this last contract and whilst I LOATHE every second of sweating in a public place I realise that at my age exercise is not only the most successful way to try and pinch an inch but undoubtedly the best way to assist in coping with the arduous amount of travelling that comes with my charmed life. The travelling in my opinion is the bit we get paid for. I took 88 flights last year in and out of the UK and over the last three years alone have taken over 250 flights in and out of Manchester airport so whilst I am we'll aware I will never die of overwork, there is a distinct possibility I ill die from deep vein thrombosis.You take the rough with the smooth though right? 

Tomorrow I fly Barbados to Miami (where I have to pick up and re check my bags as its the first stop of the trip in the US) Miami to Heathrow and Heathrow to Manchester. This is why it takes so many flights to get to and from the ships... Cause we very rarely fly direct. Ill leave the ship tomorrow around noon and get home on Thursday around 3pm. I'm going to treat myself to... You guessed it A TAXI!!! Home from Manchester as most of my relatives will be at work at that time and steve is in Thailand. 

I have a regular taxi firm I use in Bolton all the time, primarily because they will come out for me at 4am in the morning to do an airport run and have never let me down yet, but honestly because Mo and Sal, the alacritous brothers that own the firm "Timewise taxis" are comedy geniuses. You can't learn timing like theirs. They never cease to make me laugh. I think I'll need that after my journey. 

Currently, I am drinking a strawberry daiquiri waiting to meet with the other entertainer and his pals at a bar in St Kitts. The port area is large and built up here with every store selling almost identical merchandise. The most disconcerting experience in st kitts is the giant Rasta guys who parade  tiny monkeys in nappies around the terminal area in a bid for you to pay to have your picture taken with what is pretty much an incontinent rat in a cuter outfit. 

I mean no disrespect to all you furball lovers out there, but those of you who know me will concur that I am not indeed an animal enthusiast in the least, I mean them no harm essentially but prefer them between two slices of bread. Controversial I know but I think this stems from the time my brother, maybe only 6 or 7 at the time was bitten by a neighbours dog.  It's not so much the physical scars he may have acquired as a result of this unsolicited attack that has perturbed me but more what occurred directly as a result of it. My mother in a fit of uncharacteristic rage, frog marched my bawling sibling down the street to confront said neighbour about the frenzied attack (insert "little nip that didn't really break the skin" here) and proceeded to yank his pants down in the STREET to show the canine owner the ever reddening results of her pets plight much to my screaming brothers dismay. Seeing him "revealed " in that way left a long lasting impression on me that animals do indeed inadvertently mean naked public screaming.   That's just how it is.

So now after one daiquiri and no breakfast I have been joined by Fred Klett (amazing comedian) and Jenny Baker (amazing documentation officer) and Doug McMillan (world class guitar hero) and am making the most of my final day of sunshine before I have to hide my tan  beneath 14 layers of clothes. 

And so now after 23 days away, I am thoroughly sick of putting make up and a dress on EVERY NIGHT and though I've loved every minute of performing and being part of the team on two very different but very lovely Celebrity ships, I have an appointment on Thursday night with a 'China Rooms' take away, 40 odd sky plus episodes of Emmerdale and Steves onesie. 

Bliss.

In San Diego I bought a Union Jack hold-all as my current one fell apart during my travels, but mainly cause I loved the irony of buying a British bag in the states. A week or so later I bought a Union Jack bikini in Belize. For the same reasons essentially. However, they serve the opposite purpose. The bikini fits where it touches, clearly designed for a much less buxom individual and I can only wear it when lying completely horizontal for fear of poking out the eye of a passer by. The bag however is huge and covers a multitude of sins. I am now forced to wear them both at the same time so the bag can cover what the bikini doesn't and I am in danger of looking like a BNP activist on her way to weight watchers.  It seemed like a good idea at the time. 

I'm writing this on the first sea day of the final cruise of this 23 day stint away. Because I have done the back end of one cruise and the front end of another on both ships, I have essentially seen 4 lots of audiences in the time I've been away and today as I sit writing this on a sun lounger on deck during the first of two consecutive sea days I possess that ever elusive gift of anonymity as I have yet to perform for this set of passengers and currently they just think I am some sad 30 something on holiday on her own. I love people watching and will often choose the perch that allows me the best view of the specimens around me.I love to create back stories for them and imagine what they're talking about to each other. Occasionally you do catch glimpses of what they're saying, then I feel guilty for earwigging. It's breezy today but lovely and warm and the sun deck is bursting with colour and life. The pool looks like American Soup, filled with bodies bobbing around, meeting new people, sharing their travelling stories and cruise tales of yore. Today would be a perfect day for me to wear aforementioned bikini as nobody knows me and therefore probably wouldn't judge me. However as we all know, brown is the new skinny so I'm working currently on this optical illusion and might try it again in a few days. 

My journey to join this gorgeous vessel in Puerto Limon Costa Rica was as per usual an eventful one. After spending three nights in Miami between the two cruises, having meetings with cruise lines and agents accompanied by my own representation from the UK, Alan Frazer who had flown in especially for that purpose, I headed to the airport at 3.30am on the 26th of January, earlier than even the hotel shuttle buses were prepared to wake. So again, I'm in ANOTHER taxi off to Miami airport to fly to Colon Panama to join the ship. It's a really big airport with many drop off points and my driver graciously asks which airline I am flying with so he can deliver me as close as possible to my relevant check in area. I looked at my paperwork to discover I was flying with Avianca, an airline I was not at all familiar with. I checked the details again and told him the abbreviations of the two airports I would be visiting enroute to my final destination onboard. 'Ah, you're off to San Salvador and San Jose... I'm from San Jose! " my driver chirped excitedly. 

"You're from Panama?" I added nonchalantly. 

"No no, San Jose is in Costa Rica. You're going to El Salvador and then Costa Rica" 

To be completely honest I was so tired from my epic few days in Florida and my ungodly alarm call that I didn't really react to the news that this morning I had packed up my belongings and headed wearily for the hotel reception to check out under the complete assumption I was headed to Panama.  Now not only did I have the country of destination completely wrong but I was popping to another Latin American destination enroute just for good measure. It wasn't until I had slept the majority of the first flight away and I was trying to ask for a toilet in the airport in El Salvador that it struck me that I Could be heading in completely the wrong direction. By nature I am a worrier and a few years ago I'd have gone into  complete moronic breakdown in the terminal at the prospect of being stranded in Costa Rica. Instead I steadied myself with the knowledge that I had probably just read the itinerary wrong online, that I have a credit card for emergencies and that to date I have never been stranded anywhere without assistance from someone and that I should probably just board the plane to San Jose. (After I'd discovered that "Lavados" does not at all mean toilet in El Salvador and I had enacted a little "bursting for a wee" dance for the bemused lady in the perfume shop) 

Me and my international bladder issues.

I arrived tired but painlessly in Costa Rica, and was veritably ecstatic to see my battered up purple suitcase (hereafter to be referred to as Murna...( I don't know I just think it suits her) bobbing along the carousel having made the one hour connection in San Salvador between flights. After wrestling with the handle for five minutes (Murna is a stubborn ol mule) we headed through immigration to search for the little white board with my name on and therefore my... You guessed it.. Taxi to the ship. A warm-eyed gentleman smiled at me beneath his curly mop of hair as he beckoned me to hand him control of Murna as we headed to find the car. 

"hello... My name is Victor" he said. Honestly, you can't make this stuff up. For those of you who have rad my previous account, you'll know victor was the monicker of my previous aide through Guatemala. Well, at least I'm in for some fun I thought. 

I asked him "How long is the transfer to the port Victor?" 

"Three hours maam" he replied. 

"You're joking though right?" I giggled

"No no maam three hours. We are on the pacific coast here. The ship is on the Atlantic coast." 

My heart sank. I'd had my mind set on an afternoon in bed after a leisurely breakfast onboard and maybe a spot of sunbathing at sail away. I hurriedly asked Victor to excuse me as I ran to the nearest small store in the arrivals hall to stock up for my epic voyage, surprised to discover the shop didn't sell bottled water. I bought a few other drinks and ran expediently back to the waiting mini bus and a smiling victor. I offered him a bottle of my pop and he smiled gratefully back at me from the front seat of this vehicle that coughed and spluttered so demonstrably I doubted he'd make it out of the car park let alone coast to coast. 

Needless to say the journey wasn't the most comfortable. The suspension on the van tested to its limits by the winding and undulating roads of the  countryside, both beautiful and painful in equal measure. 

The trip was made somewhat more palatable by the company of 'Costas' the Greek staff engineer who was heading to join the ship with me. He was a thoroughly nice bloke and we whiled the hours away chatting and grimacing together at the effect the potholes were having on our bottoms! 

Se tried several gas stations and cafes  enroute to buy a bottle of water but again no water only fizzy sodas. Odd really .

I reached the ship in one piece andthough fatigued thoroughly jubilant to see the beautiful Celebrity Equinox waiting for me there in Puerto Limon. I thanked Victor mark II and dragged Murna aboard. I was assigned the same cabin I had resided in before Christmas on a previous trip here so I already knew my lovely stateroom attendants, Joanna from the phillipines and Vikas from Goa. Joanna is awesome. She always manages to get me extra goodies, slippers and pears and the light waffle dressing gowns she knows I like. I never have to ask her, she just knows. 

So I settled in for what proved to be a lovely and successful cruise. I met some other fabulous and talented entertainers who invited me to dine and socialise with them which is always good when you're travelling on your own.

As I write this I am well aware from my sky news obsession that the weather in the uk at the moment has been less than fortuitous recently and my heart goes out to the residents of the Somerset levels as once again they are flooded. It makes me all the more conscious of the fact I'm being paid to sit in the sunshine today and furthermore aware how in danger I am at appearing to gloat about my ever increasing suntan. Please don't misconstrue me, I never have and never will for one moment take for granted a single iota of the fortune bestowed upon me as a result of my career path. But after a brief conversation with my husband on FaceTime earlier, who is currently in Thailand attempting to qualify for the Asian tour (follow his progress as of Wednesday 5th Feb on www.asaintour.com) and a lovely couple of text messages from my best friends from home, indeed from school, Julie and Tammy, I am acutely aware how on my own I feel today. To an extent it's good not to be recognised just yet by the passengers. It means I haven't had to bother with a full face of makeup yet or the understandable regularly occurring questions you get once they know who you are. But today I feel more alert to the fact that I haven't seen steve or my parents for over two weeks now and though seeing my agent in Miami was a nice taster of home, I'm a 12 hour time difference from Steve now and at sea the Internet is both slow and expensive. Thank god for it.. But inevitably there's a delay. 

Today however I started to cement my plans for my time off at home. The one benefit of steve not being there when I get back is undoubtedly the seldom opportunity I'm going to get to zip about and catch up with friends scattered all over the country. I'm beyond excited for the night out in Accrington we have planned for  my return, with my oldest friends I don't see as often as I'd like and the even rarer chance we're going to get to have a drink together. Children, family lives, holidays, schedules, occupations all stand in the way of us regularly meeting but when we do its like we're 17 again trying to con our way into nightclubs we're too young to be in and laughing heartily at the crazy antics we'd get up to in our younger carefree days. I cannot wait. 

And finally... I have moved cabins. And though I'll miss Vikas and his constant need to stroke my arms, I was more than delighted to be introduced to my new stateroom attendant yesterday. He knocked on my door to introduce himself to me. "Hi my names jayne nice to meet you" I said 

"Hi jayne my names Princey. But you can call me Prince" 

Awesome.