NWP 17. Blue cheese-gate

31-Aug-24 Borge Island

During last night’s briefing meeting for today the Captain appeared. He was born in Borge, Norway. South of Oslo near the Swedish border.

Who else was born in Borge?

Roald Amundsen.

In 1872.

Just so happens that we shall be sailing past a tiny island called Borge. Named after Amundsen’s birthplace.

Captain’s prerogative to go ashore and set foot on it.

After last night’s briefing there’s also singing of songs from the NWP. Audience participation a must. One of the songs is from the 19^th century and refers to the local Inuit as savages. So the word has to be changed. What word could they use that rhymes with savages. But is a ‘safe word’. So the Inuit don’t get upset.

Of all the words.

Cabbages.

Is it.

I kid you not.

Think I’d rather be called savage than cabbage.

Shown a video by Inuit group The Jerry Cans. Their single ‘Northern Lights’ is rather good. Have a listen to it on the video below.

It’s a cold, dark, dank, foggy, windy day as I open the curtains.

Hmmmm.

Not sure this is the weather for an hour or so Zodiac cruising around the island. Apparently, no one has been given permission to land here before. Resident archaeologist has a permit to land and do a recce. If there are no archaeological artefacts/settlements, we can go ashore. Two hours waiting. For wind to calm down. One hour Zodiac cruise cancelled. Thank you. It’s +3C with a significant windchill. And choppy. Zodiac cruises in calm waters are brilliant fun. Not so when it’s cold enough to freeze your whatsits. And choppy.

Finally. A ten minute warning. We’re off to land. Now the wind has dropped. And the sky is blue. And the sun is shining.

Zodiac surfs the crest of a wave all the way there for an ultra smooth ride.

To be greeted by the great Roald Amundsen himself. Complete with bell tent. Complete with Norwegian flag. Complete with the ‘Roald Amundsen’ sign from the ship’s bridge. Complete with the Borge town flag.

It is. Of course. The Captain. In his element. Fulfilling a childhood dream. One suspects.

Boys and their toys.

Great fun.

Borge Island is flat. Featureless. Rocky. Can’t be more than a few metres high.

There’s not much else to say. It’s like the lonely kid at school. Standing away from everyone. He’s there. But not.

That’s Borge Island.

It’s just the other side of 100deg West. Miss Brandon in Manitoba is just the other side of 100deg West at 99.9deg West. Look south and wave to Miss Brandon.

Warned that the Zodiac ride back will be choppier. Now going against the wind and the waves. Bounce. Splash. Bounce. Splash. Bounce. Splash.

Blue cheese-gate continues at dinner.

My table is served by both Lurch (and I mean that in a nice way on account of being taller than the rest) and a young, petite, very bubbly and beautiful young girl. Who has a smile that definitely brightens your day. Oh yes. And something to look forward to of an evening. And lunch. We’ll call her Miss Petite and Bubbly (PB). Miss PB serves me. Lurch lurks. He walks past. Stops. Says. “I was ashamed last night I didn’t get your blue cheese.”

Don’t worry. Say I. It was very thoughtful of you to get Sainsbury’s weekly truckload of blue cheese for me. I really appreciate it. Don’t worry. It’s not your fault.

Or something like that.

Not wanting to be overloaded with blue cheese tell Lurch I’m having the chocolate fondant with raspberry coulis. Because. You know. It’s chocolate fondant with raspberry coulis.

Miss PB continues service. Starter is Beef carpaccio. Which reminds me of a colleague in Braunschweig who ordered beef carpaccio at the Christmas party one year. Not knowing what it was. Plate placed in front of him. “It’s f***ing raw!!!”. He exclaims. In a loud voice. In posh restaurant. Miss Braunschweig now giggling to herself at the memory.

Confit of duck leg is excellent. What would I like to finish? Well. Was going to have chocolate fondant with raspberry coulis. Because. You know. It’s chocolate fondant with raspberry coulis.

But.

Dear reader.

I’ll go for the cheese.

Just to see what happens.

Miss PB brings the cheese plate.

Morsel of something. Morsel of something else. Morsel of blue cheese.

Perfect portions.

Lurch arrives and asks if I’d like more red wine.

Oh go on then.

He’s pouring wine. Like a sitcom scene it misses the glass. It goes everywhere.

He apologises.

He’s literally been distracted by the blue cheese on my plate.

I thought you were having chocolate fondant. He exclaims.

You distracted me with your blue cheese. He says.

You said you didn’t want blue cheese. I’ve got four slices of blue cheese for you. Waiting at my station. Says he.

And that.

Dear reader.

Is why I told him I was having chocolate fondant.

At the end of each day we have a briefing for tomorrow. Used to alternate between English at 1830hrs/German at 2030hrs. Now consolidated to one briefing at 2030hrs. After everyone has had a few beers and glasses of wine at dinner.

Now a relaxed affair. There’s an alcoholic buzz in the room.

Older German Geologist, who studied in Braunschweig (my second home), gives tonight’s briefing. He’s box office. Very dry humour. Very British sense of humour. A real character. The sort you’d like to have a beer with. And schnapps. And gluhwein. Miss Tamworth and I know how to enjoy gluhwein. Mit schuss. In Braunschweig. What went on in Braunschweig. Stays in Braunschweig.

Miss Braunschweig doesn’t drink. Miss Tamworth on the other hand…

German Geologist has to stop the deck 6 briefing as deck 10 bar is not picking up the live stream of his briefing. Has to fill in time for a few minutes.

Tells us the story of a colleague in rough seas. Enjoying his lamb stew with mashed potatoes and carrots. But found it was slipping and sliding off the plate. So put everything in a sick bag so he could spoon it out. Easy peasy.

But colleagues made of less sterner stuff saw the obvious. Bloke eating out of a sick bag. With carrots in it. Which made them feel even more ill.

You might have heard the roar of laughter further south. So funny.

Laughter no doubt fuelled by a few glasses of wine.