Day Seven: 24 Hours on the Hrossey

Hello.

I write this at the end of a very long day. Last night, I boarded the MV Hrossey and it was very rough seas. Long story short, the Aberdeen Harbour was closed due to rough seas and I spent 24 hours in the ship with nothing to eat apart from a Nutri-Grain bar given to me by an old lady.

I never did catch her name. That seems to be the way when travelling. But apparently, News of me had spread. Whilst I was in Lerwick, checking out the Clickimin Broch, I met two Frenchmen. They were father and son and recognised my accent instantly as being from Birmingham. Turns out that the father had married a girl from Brum and that they were going back on the same boat. The guy was very religious and was thanking god as I took a photo of them using their camera. (Don’t thank God, Thank Me)

Anyway, I awoke feeling rough. Very rough. You know when you wake up and you just feel like utter crap? I was out of cash and hungry. As the only food I had was six feet under on the lower decks of the Hrossey, I was starving. The Captain came over the intercom and for the most part, It was bad news. Due to the very rough storms on the North Sea, The Port of Aberdeen decided to close the harbour to all traffic. We were turned away and sent out at the mercy of the seas.

It was a Force 10 gale. The waves were huge and unforgiving. The old lady asked me if I wanted to accompany her to the restaurant at the other end of the ship. I decided to go. As we rounded a corridor, a particularly nasty wave hit the ship, causing her to grab onto a rail and me to go down onto my knees in a rather retarded attempt at balance. I began to feel terrible. The fact that I hadn’t eaten for half a day and my motion was impaired. I vomited into a bag. I feel sick just thinking about it so I will leave it here.

The MV Hrossey, Isn’t it a beauty? I threw up on that ship once… The year was 2012…

Picture me vomiting into a bag whilst apologising profusely and being generally British. (Queueing to use the water machine whilst still vomiting into a bag.)

We were meant to land in the port at 0730. We didn’t land until 1630. I then made the 180 Mile run from Aberdeen to Berwick-upon-Tweed in the dark. It was raining, it was windy and all I could smell was the stench of vomit.
It appears that I need to regain my honour. The Scottish way to do this is to walk twenty miles in the rain to blow up a haggis for the price of two coos and a deep fried mars bar. 
By the way, IRN BRU tastes like ****.

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