Oh my god I miss land. I can't remember exactly where the expression a 'curly head' came from, but I’ve never liked it. Unfortunately it completely suites my state of being.
I’m beginning to find my way around majesty. Basically, deck 2 is where I live, in a sort of Harry Potter, cupboard under the stairs get up. No, that's mean, it's actually got everything I need and is quite spacious, but I do feel bad for the Hungarian genius classical musicians next door who are two to a cabin. They are lovely men, brothers, and going through a very hard time. I occasionally hear gypsy scales dancing through the wall. I’ve not had chance to tell them yet what a privilege it is to hear their music, even if just through the walls.
My bar is called Rendezvous, and there is a bar literally built into my piano, where people can sit with cocktails and distract me from my playing with intense eye contact. I like this though. When people start to communicate with me, the music starts to get good. Sometimes I play in Polo Club and then for some reason people start requesting. Surprisingly the same songs I'd played an hour ago, to the frustration of the bar staff. Today though, I just played in Rendezvous, with a couple of sets in the Reception, who were stunned, and said that nobody ever played the piano in the reception and that they were thrilled it was getting played.
That's one of the weirdest things about this ship – there's grand pianos everywhere. Like if a drunken child had been given stickers and a plan of the boat, they crop up in the most bizarre places, like a stairwell. I think maybe the ships designers had some empty awkward corners to fill, and they just said 'Grand piano?', 'Yeh, why not'.
The hardest thing today has been keeping going for 4 hours and thirty minutes with my voice in tatters from yesterday. Doing these kind of hours is really bad, I’m risking nodules by not resting my voice, but I’m in a contract, so what can I do? If this persists any longer, I’m going to tell them I’m taking a day off, because I barely got through this set. By the end of it my voice was in tatters again, and how long can this go on for?
I had a drink on deck with the production manager. He's sound as a pound, and I met some other new people too. I’m not going to have a lot of time to socialize if I want to survive this insane schedule, but I want to make sure I get to know people before it's too late. Three months single is a terrifying prospect!
Oh one more thing, rules. They are soooo many. None of them seem nonsensical, except that even when your in down time and not working, you can't wear informal clothes on the decks. Thank god you can on deck 2. I get the impression I’m going to be spending a lot of time down here. I much prefer it down here in the 1950's caravan world, than upstairs in the polished chrome and glass world, where some poor guy is buffing his soul away, but still tries to smile and say hi to every passenger, in accordance to the rules. Maybe I’m seeing it in a bit of a down light through my curly head.
Anyway, I’m off to shower, dress, sound check and sing for three hours forty five.