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A Walk Down Memory Lane It does us good now and again to take a gentle walk down Memory Lane, and I spent a couple of very happy hours the other day surfing a website devoted entirely to the ship I had the privilege to manage for a while, the irreplaceable Canberra (http://www.sscanberra.com/). It also put me in touch with one of my former colleagues. It gave me a chance to be reminded of the many wonderful people that sailed on the ship either as crew or passengers. Photographs of some of the rooms and spaces on the ship I loved also bought back many happy memories. Canberra and I joined P&O in the same year, 1961, but I left the company three years before she did. She was always my favourite ship and I felt genuinely privileged to be her Managing Director for four years from 1985 and help keep her afloat for another twelve. Her end came in October of 1997 when she sailed quietly out of Southampton on her last voyage; a voyage to Pakistan and the scrap yard. I thought then, and still do now, that it was a great shame the ship could not be preserved and something useful done with her. There is no doubt that Canberra was unique and that she held a special place in the hearts of many hundreds of thousands of people; not only the passengers who in her later years were to cruise on her, but in those who paid their ten pounds and were carried out to a new life in Australia and Zealand on her. Mention Canberra, as I have often done, in Australia and almost everyone down there was touched in some way by the ship. Some emigrated on her or travelled back to England on home leaves on her. Others had members of their families sail to and from Australia on her. Test cricket teams sailed on her. Civil servants in the Colonial service sailed backwards and forwards to India, Hong Kong, Malaysia and other places in the Far East on her. Later, many thousands of people came to enjoy and love her as a cruise ship. The 45,000 ton ship was unique in design, for the superstructure above her main deck was mainly of aluminium. She had so many new design features incorporated in her that it would be tedious to mention them here. And when she was converted to a cruise ship, the removal of the first and tourist class barriers opened her up in such a way that people gravitated to the ends that they felt most comfortable with. The way in which the old ship was designed also meant that one could move 1,800 people around her without them all bumping into one another; a feature that many cruise lines have copied since. People were born on Canberra and they died on it also. They had many baptisms on the ship and while I cannot recall anyone getting married on it (though some may have done in American waters), there were plenty of honeymoons on it. Romances were made on the ship and, doubtless, broken on it as well. I can think of at least two murders on it that I later got involved with, and a number of people committed suicide from it or disappeared while on it. The ship broke down on a couple of occasions, and it also sailed once or twice when the experts said it wouldn’t. It was going to be scrapped in 1973 and again ten years later but was saved both times. I was involved slightly the first time round for I happened to be on board when the Chairman of the day flew out to the ship in New York to give everyone the bad news. Fortunately, he changed his mind a few months later. The second time around I was fortunate to be the one given the chance of putting her back into profitable service, and can claim to have played a part in keeping the old girl sailing. She sailed well despite having a disconcerting ‘wiggle’ in bad weather that made you wonder at the end of a roll whether she would return or just fall over. On one occasion I was on her when she was affected by a hurricane and the morning I saw her massive fo’c’sle disappear under angry green water was the only time I have ever been on a ship and wished that I was ashore. She was, like most ships, in bad weather some of the time yet the passengers wore these experiences on their breasts like medals, boasting that they had been in worse storms than the person bragging before. She was a beautiful and elegant ship and one with more character and atmosphere about her than any of the giant floating resorts that sail the seas these days as so-called cruise ships. Canberra was so familiar to me that all these years later I can close my eyes and tour her passenger spaces in my mind’s eye. Up front on the Games Deck was the Crow’s Nest, a wonderful piano lounge with a semicircular bar and superb views out above the bows. Aft, past the Stadium Theatre where the Theatre Company staged some superb shows (including a couple of the Gilbert & Sullivan operettas) was the Bonito Club. In this latter, entertainers such as the incomparable and much-loved Colin Hindmarsh would fill the room with laughter and dance. The ships’ Cinema was midships one deck down. The Alice Springs Bar at the stern of the ship was one deck down from that. The Promenade Deck was a hive of activity. Aft was the Neptune Room and to get into it, one had to walk through the Cricketer’s Tavern, yet another lively and popular bar. Moving forward through the Ocean Room, another show lounge, one hit the ship’s offices and the shops. Then one arrived at the Meridian Lounge (sometimes called ‘God’s Waiting Room’ from the folk snoozing in there in the afternoon), an elegant lounge for after-dinner drinks and classical concerts. And then forward of that was the Century Bar, a bar hidden behind a bulkhead that many passengers sometimes never knew was there, and a great favourite for those in the know. From here a circular staircase took you up three decks into the Crows Nest. Originally, Canberra had its own telephone exchange which was still there when I was first appointed to her. Situated on C Deck, I was known to first pop in there for an update on the ship’s gossip. Since there was usually much gossip, it was a matter of later regret that we had to modernise the phone system and get rid of the telephone exchange. My next port of call might then be the Purser’s Office on the Promenade Deck, as here I would get early warning of any issues the Commodore was likely to raise with me. In here one morning, I found the Purser in floods of tears and hysterical laughter having just been told by the Superintendent Purser to prepare for a party of blind people who were coming down to ‘look round’ the ship. Then I would head up to the Commodore’s cabin immediately beneath the Bridge on the starboard side. Here the senior officers would gather for the morning conference and often for management meetings, and in here I would discuss the issues of the day over a cup of coffee. I have many happy memories of Canberra and the people who sailed on her; so many that they would need a separate book. But, wandering through Canberra’s website I was reminded of a couple of incidents. Such as the time the ship ran aground in Granada in 1973. I was called into the office in the very early hours of a July morning to help deal with the problems that resulted. A few hours later it was decided that, together with other executives, I was to fly out to the ship. I called my wife and asked her to pack a suitcase which I arranged to be collected by a colleague and bought to the office. By noon we were on our way to Granada. The problem was that my wife forgot to pack any ties and, as the ship’s shop was closed and sealed when I got to it, I went along to the Cricketer’s Tavern to borrow a couple from the vast selection that hung on the bulkhead there. Relaxing in some other part of the ship later one evening, I was accosted by a crusty old gentleman who demanded to know who I was as he didn’t recognise me. I told him. ‘Why then,’ he asked, ‘Are you wearing an MCC tie?’ He laughed when I told him, and gave me permission to wear it until I could get a couple from the ship’s shop. A photograph of the Crows Nest reminded me of one time I sailed on the ship when its MD. I joined somewhere in the Mediterranean on a hot day after a hot and tiring flight and I went straight up to the bar for a cooling drink. Most of the passengers were ashore and, apart from four or five passengers sitting round the semicircular bar, the room was empty. I sat on a bar stool and sipped my beer. ‘I hear Brian MacDonald just came aboard,’ one man said to the another. ‘Oh, I know him very well,’ the other chap boasted. ‘I’ve known him for many years. I’ve played golf with him.’ My ears pricked up; I didn’t recognise this man and I don’t play golf. I did a very naughty thing; I got chatting. Eventually, he asked my name. ‘Brian MacDonald!’ I said. To roars of laughter from the companion, the man stalked out of the bar with a very red face indeed. I did make it up with him later, and we had a beer together on a couple of occasions afterwards. By then he did, of course, know me! When I was appointed MD of Canberra, the ship was on a round-world cruise and I flew out to Sydney to join her. After a shower and a change of clothes on boarding, I took a full tour of the ship and finally ended up in what was then called the Bureau, the ship’s office. There I was astonished to find that the desk I used when working on the ship as Shore Excursions Officer a full decade before was still there. I felt trapped in a time-warp and it reinforced my view that some major changes were needed. Fortunately, with the help of the excellent teams both onboard and ashore, the changes were made and the ship carried on in very successful service until 1997.
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