North of Libya

This morning you find me holed up alongside one of the mid-ships pools, watching the world go by, and seeing a few familiar faces wander past. The clocks went back last night – the second time in two days as we travel west, north of Libya. We will arrive off the coast of Tunisia overnight.

Yesterday evening was unexpectedly entertaining.

For the most part, the voyage so far has traversed calm seas – but late yesterday whoever is in charge of the weather decided “enough of this nonsense”, and turned the wind and waves up a bit. It finally felt like we were in the open ocean – and was kind of glorious.

I pulled on a thin coat to act as a windbreak, and made my way to the top deck of the ship – which was completely and utterly deserted. I walked several laps – taking photos of the sunset, and watching the ship corkscrew as it punched its way into a pretty stiff headwind, and rolling waves. The swimming pools were all shut down, and were slamming their contents high into the air in time with the slow rise and fall of the ship’s bow.

After wondering if the crew were watching my antics on the numerous cameras around the decks, I wandered back to our cabin and pulled the full clown suit – white dinner jacket, waistcoat, pocket watch, formal trousers, and shiny black policeman shoes – from the wardrobe.

Dinner would be formal.

Our table of eight places is finally complete after we invited a couple eating alone to join us – two ladies that had thus far had a giant table to themselves. It’s a mystery to all of us why there are so many empty tables in the restaurant – a huge number of people have never appeared.

So last night was a little bit strange – changing the dynamic of a group that have come to know one-another well. We’re often the first table in, and the last table out. Although there have been a few bumps along the way, we’ve more or less bonded with each other – and grown to know each other quite well.

I hit it off with one of the new ladies straight away, and bonded over the books we have read, the smell of second-hand bookshops, science fiction (I know, right?), why on earth we have pet cats given they don’t care if we live or die, and numerous other subjects.

Today I have nothing to do. Nowhere to be. Nothing planned. It still feels very, very strange indeed. I’ve never been on holiday for this long before. We’ve met a retired couple several times in bars during the cruise, and they always ask after me – if I’ve slowed down yet. They have listened to my struggles with “letting go” with smiles on their faces – they had been in a similar situation earlier in life – with busy jobs and family lives.

The one common refrain from everybody I’ve talked to – that I’ve heard countless times before – is that the stress bound up with most jobs really isn’t worth it. If you were run over by a truck tomorrow, you would be replaced in days – and the bigger the company, the more insignificant you become – so you really shouldn’t worry about focusing on yourself rather than others.

I suppose the fundamental truth about any company – no matter how friendly the culture or how vital your role feels – is that it is an entity built to endure without you. It doesn’t stay awake at night worrying about your health, your family, or your future. When you trade your peace of mind for corporate emergencies, you are spending currency you can never earn back. A company buys a specific number of hours and a particular set of skills; it doesn’t buy your health, your longevity, or your sanity.

Learning to leave the work at the desk – or even to walk away from it entirely – shouldn’t so much feel like a lack of commitment – more an act of self-preservation.

I think the main bar by the nearby pool opens in 10 minutes. I foresee a cappuccino in my near future. And a book. I’ve given up on the on-board shop’s selection of books – unless you want to read Jurassic Park (I’ve read it, twice), or one of the Jack Reacher books, they really don’t seem to have much. Thankfully I have the Kindle app on my iPad, and an endless stream of blog posts to read at Substack, WordPress, and Tumblr.

Guilty admission – I’ve found myself reading blog posts more than books in recent months. There’s something about the unvarnished real world that appeals more than invented characters and situations. The real world is often complicated, messy, and choatic – and sometimes you find the most gifted writers emptying it directly into their keyboards. It’s kind of wonderful.