The Conservatory, the last resort for late risers was under severe pressure from starving passengers who were approaching from every direction. It reminded me of the frenetic activity of termites within a mound. At first glance, the ants appear to be scurrying about in a random uncoordinated fashion but after some time, it becomes obvious that they are all following a specific course of action depending on their duties. The human “ants” in the Conservatory were crisscrossing the buffet area to find the food they wanted and find the shortest queue to get at it. People carrying trays with hot food and drinks weaved between each other to collect what they needed and then scurried back to their partner who held a seat for them at a table.
I did exactly the same and returned to Wifey to find two elderly passengers perched on the other chairs at our table. Wifey disappeared to collect her breakfast and I exchanged nods with the others. I started to consume my breakfast and observed our companions. They sat expressionless and silent as they observed the apparent mayhem occurring just a few feet away. He must have been 80 years plus and she possibly 70. They showed no interest in picking up breakfast. The clock on the wall ticked slowly towards 10.30am when breakfast finished so I asked the older man if I could get him any breakfast? “No, no thank you,” he said displaying his old discoloured teeth “I ate mine at 7.30am”. Then suddenly without as much as a how do you do the old lady rose and left the table. Apparently, they hadn’t known each other at all.
My offer had broken the ice and the man I think welcomed the opportunity to talk. He was very well spoken and he spoke directly and without emotion. His wife had died 4 years ago and this was their favourite ship and he now travels alone. He loves the ballroom dancing and now has no one to dance with. However, on the Oriana there are always women to dance with. He learnt to dance in the local village halls were tea dances were held. “And the Oriana is one of the few ships with a ballroom dance floor” he added. In fact, he’d already booked onto the follow on cruise and saved 25% of the cost by doing so.
“Had he been to Madiera, our second port of call?”
Yes, many times. He and his wife used to swim and scuba dive at Reid’s Hotel. “Marvellous swimming to be had there” he added.
Gradually he opened up and he physically unwound to reveal himself quite a tall man, over 6 foot. Wifey had returned by now and was tucking into her breakfast as he told us that he was married three times. His first wife was a “colonial wife” from Kuala Lumpur. “Fantastic golfer, but that’s all she did” he recounted. Where she came from any time she needed something she just clapped her hands and the servants made it so. I’m sure, I thought to myself, she had at least one other talent, in the bedroom. He’d travelled widely with his work and retired over thirty years ago in 1984. I rather tactlessly asked what he did and he surprisingly answered. “I worked in GCHQ in Cheltenham and other places abroad”. For a while, he had been based on the Pakistan border in Kashmere. “Osama Bin Laden was my neighbour,” he said with a wink of an eye. Since 9/11 didn’t occur until 2001 I think he meant geographically. He said everyone he dealt with in Pakistan was corrupt. Of course, you trusted no one in my business he added drily.
Had he seen service in the Second World War? Yes, he’d been in the naval intelligence division (NID) and after the war in 1965, the three service intelligence departments were merged. Not a total success he volunteered.
I asked, that given the sacrifices made in the Second World War has Britain turned out to a better place than he envisaged it to be back in 1946? To be honest he didn’t answer my question but said that there were a great many unhappy people in Britain today.
I asked if he’d know many Irish people who fought with the Allies but he deliberately misinterpreted my question and said he met many Irish every year at Cheltenham (racecourse).
As he spoke I sensed he was of the Burgess, McClean generation of spies. You know, the Smiley Bulger generation, from an era when espionage recruitment was class driven. If you were bright, qualified with a degree from Oxford or Cambridge and were a member of the right London private clubs you were in. Pre-war graduates had merely to be anti-fascists as the enemy was perceived to be Nazi Germany. This meant that Communist idealists were accepted and we all know where that led.
I asked about the Suez Canal incident when the Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser announced the nationalization of the Suez Canal Company, the joint British-French enterprise which had owned and operated the Suez Canal since its construction in 1869. Israel then invaded followed by Britain and France and all withdrew after the superpowers got involved. My father was in the Merchant Navy and his ship was requisitioned to transport a battalion of Ghurkha soldiers up the canal. He volunteered nothing.
I asked what he thought of Winston Churchill, whose anniversary was today? He suddenly wrong-footed me with a question “Did you know that Winston Churchill had Colonel Sikorksi killed?” He fixed me with an unnerving steady gaze.
“No, no I didn’t” I answered blankly. I didn’t even know who Sikorski was! It was the wrong answer and within a minute he stopped talking, rose and made his exit. Wifey said immediately she suspected he thought he’d said too much and we were left to ponder why this murder was still secret and whispered about 70 years after the war had ended?
If I didn’t know who Sikorski was then I certainly do now.
During the Second World War, Sikorski became Prime Minister of the Polish Government in Exile, Commander-in-Chief of the Polish Armed Forces, and a vigorous advocate of the Polish cause in the diplomatic sphere. He supported the reestablishment of diplomatic relations between Poland and the Soviet Union, which had been severed after the Soviet pact with Germany and the 1939 invasion of Poland — however, Soviet leader Joseph Stalin broke off Soviet-Polish diplomatic relations in April 1943 following Sikorski’s request that the International Red Cross investigate the Katyń Forest massacre. In July 1943, a plane carrying Sikorski plunged into the sea immediately after takeoff from Gibraltar, killing all on board except the pilot. The exact circumstances of Sikorski’s death have been disputed and have given rise to a number of conspiracy theories surrounding the crash and his death. Sikorski had been the most prestigious leader of the Polish exiles, and his death was a severe setback for the Polish cause.
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