A friend of mine who has sailed on the QM2 several times since it was launched in Southampton on 8 June 2004 suggested that the Cunard flagship’s passengers could offer to give the crew the day off.

His idea was that this would be a proper thank you for all their hard work in turning this glorious liner into such a huge success.

The 1200 crew could then sit back and be waited on by some if not all of the 2,592 or so passengers, for a change.

“How difficult can it be running a ship for a day,” said my friend. Admittedly he was drunk and incapable of rational thought. We had started our Christmas celebrations early and were feeling jolly.

“Steering a ship looks so easy,” he said. “It’s just variations of ‘left hand down a bit’ – just like the Leslie Phillips’ character in The Navy Lark.”

Then we poured ourselves another drink and decided that maybe we should set our sights a bit lower, with the daily cleaning of this huge 1,132 ft ship that is only 117 feet shorter than the Empire State Building – if these two world famous icons could be laid side by side.

It all seemed such a great idea until we looked at the facts.

Apart from anything else the QM2 has 2,000 bathrooms, 280,000 square yards (250,000 square metres) of fitted carpets, 3,800 square yards (3,200 square metres) of galleys, more than 2,500 windows and portholes, 5,000 stairs, 1,100 fire doors, and a 2.5 acre area that used up 250 tons of paint.

Just dusting those bits would need a small army of trained personnel.

Then there’s the health and safety of everybody on board, for we dreaded to think what would happen to us if it all went wrong. Keelhauling and hanging from the nearest yardarm seemed a possibility.

“OK,” said the drunk. “We’ll just be wine waiters.”

Fine, if you can remember all 343 different labels of wine on the ship’s wine list. And know how to keep that wine at optimum temperature, open each bottle without pushing the cork back inside, and pour it for fussy wine connoisseurs without spilling a drop – in a storm.

Then there’s all those knotty health and safety issues such as what to do in an emergency, finding some experienced volunteer engineers and other technical people to look after the engine room and the propellers (run by four pods each weighing more than a 747 jumbo jet), ensuring the communications to and from the ship run smoothly, entertaining the passengers/crew, looking after their medical needs, the purser’s job, selling stuff in the shops, and serving all the meals (breakfast, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, supper and snacks), on time.

And of course, somebody has to cook all that food. And wash up afterwards. And man the 15 restaurants and bars. And change the beds, and wash all those sheets and dry and iron them And clean the five swimming pools, and run the 900-seat Royal Court Theatre. And guard the ship’s large art collection, and…

We were worn out just thinking about it.

“Tell you what,” said my friend, who had now sobered up with fright just thinking about the headaches we’d have to deal with, “let’s just send the Captain and crew seasonal greetings and beg them to remain where they are, running one of the most successful liners of all time.”

We clinked glasses and mopped our brows. Phew!

Maybe we should give the crew a bigger tip instead. They’ve certainly earned it.

James Leavey

Posted in Cruising