mwdimage 12SUCKING in the cool breeze of England for the first time in months, having escaped a stranded cruise ship quarantined in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, was a bliss that I’ve never experienced before.

When you sleep below decks as a working musician you don’t have a window, you often have a shared cabin and air con. It’s stuffy under normal conditions. Living under striplights on the other side of the planet from the UK means you often don’t know what day or what date it is, what time it is and exactly where you are. All you know is that you’re in the middle of the sea and you’re somewhere.

Imagine being stranded in that cabin in the Pacific Ocean for days on end, sailing round in circles, while the President of the United States is telling people that you don’t matter because it’s not his fault and he doesn’t want you on his statistics. Your entire ship is in quarantine because some crew members and passengers have been found to be infected with an illness, Covid-19, which as far as you know has an outside chance of killing you.

You’ve stopped playing live music sets and now you’re job is to patrol and persuade passengers to get back in their isolated cabins in case this they get infected. These patrols go through the night. Meanwhile people on your tiny corridor are showing symptoms of the illness and getting sick. It’s spreading. You turn off your air con and never leave the cabin without masks and gloves. Most of the time you simply have to wait.

Information inside the boat is thin. There’s an e mail from your agent telling you that you’re heading for Alaska and your music manager is taking you to one side to talk about  the need for you to do 13 hour clean up days. Your bosses are telling you that you’re the “dream team” and all you need is a positive spirit but they can’t tell you what’s going to happen to you.

My first contract as a cruise musician had ended and I was stuck on that boat. An experience which has since been shared by thousands of other people all over the world. At the time my ship was out on its own and world news. I was desperate to get off if I could, once I thought that elderly passengers were safe then the rest of the crew could leave as far as I was concerned.  Especially me.

Eventually the US authorities decided we could dock at Oakland California and all the passengers were to disembark. The British consulate announced that all British citizens were allowed to leave regardless of whether they were passengers or crew. A flight was provided. Myself and other British musicians and crew members were given a few hours warning to pack, given our passports back and we managed to get off the boat.

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After a long crazy journey passing through checkpoints in scenes more reminiscent of sci fi disaster movies than anything I’d ever known in life, I was bundled into a taxi and taken to an isolated location in Lancashire. An empty house that friends of mine had sorted for me. It was snowing and pitch dark.

Then the symptoms came on and for a week I had to just ride that out in my mind. After a day or so I realised I could open the window. The air tasted sweet and cool.  Like nothing I’d known for months. I rang the NHS helpline and they told me that I was on my own – no testing, no help, no treatment. I realised there was a garden I could walk in which felt strange because I was ashore – nothing was moving and there was no ocean.

I started to have feverish dreams about being stuck in the cabin so for a couple of nights I moved onto the downstairs sofa and got through the jetlag with Sky News TV reports and a biography written by a native American woman which I’d bought in Hawaii. I’d lived through worse, more life threatening illness and I was used to living on a boat, so it wasn’t overhwelming. I was comfortable and safe with friends bringing medicine and food and good feelings

Gradually I felt certain that I wasn’t at risk of dying. I started to understand the disease better. It was going to spread and kill thousands. But not people like me. We just had to avoid spreading it and killing others. It felt like an evil presence in my body, in the room.

This was my first ever contract as a cruise musican. I left England thinking I could come back and sit in the pub with my mates laughing about it with a bit of money in my pocket. Instead I’d returned to a world that was never going to be the same.

Cafes, pubs, clubs, restaurants, gyms, transport, everywhere was shutting down – like a new apocalypse. Public life was ending. Conversations would take place at a physical distance of six foot apart for maybe the whole year. So many of my relatives and friends who are either elderly or have underlying health problems are now in danger of their lives. We don’t really know what’s coming next but we know its not going to be good.

I decided the best response was to carry on with the same self discipline and positive thinking that I’d learnt as a response to the living conditions and controlling rules of life on a cruise ship living below decks. No running away, no complaining, no drifting into misery or self pity. Making the most of anything you have and any situation that you’re in. Even if you don’t like it.

I ordered myself a 4K Video camcorder and tripod off Amazon before it shut down its non essential deliveries and decided to start vlogging and blogging. I’ve got a potential set list of 140 songs, I could start uploading some solo recordings. Start performing for the online audience with other musicians. My friends in Sweeney Astray and others.

I need to look for work – not as a musician but anything that I can handle for now. My extended contract with my cruise company ends on Tuesday. After that I’m free to get through this viral storm and take the next musicians’ contract abroad.

And one day I will get the chance to tell this whole story in full.

I woke up after 7 days and it occurred to me – the internet works well, I’m not at sea, I’m somewhere. I looked up my location – Foulsby near Colne in Lancashire. I went for a walk and discovered the parish church and some kind of lake or reservoir. Birds were singing. England has a cool, damp sweetness to its breeze, there was greenery everywhere. I’ve made it home.

Disclaimer: these are my private reflections and opinions.