Portsmouth Civic Day

We started with tea/coffee and biscuits in the Lord Mayor's Parlour, then after a group photo on the Guildhall steps we were herded on board a bus and taken to the Naval Base, where our first port of call was the Commodore's house for...tea/coffee and biscuits. Not that anyone was complaining, certainly not Margaret from Basingstoke, who on spotting a plate of biscuits exclaimed "White chocolate alert!" and scooped up a white chocolate-coated biscuit. I kept to my Lent abstinence and stuck to coconut biscuits, Lincolns and shortbread.

After refreshments were over we went out to the front of the Commodore's house for...another group photo. Charles from the Isle of Wight and Maria wound up standing next to each other, and flirted outrageously. From there it was back onto the bus for a tour of the Naval Base, commentary provided by a sailor who was one of the Commodore's assistants. As we drove round, our 'guide' pointed out various ships and buildings and told us snippets about their history and/or what they're doing now. (As we passed HMS Invincible, he mentioned his sorrow that she was being 'paid off', as she was his ship.) It was fascinating, especially the revelation that the Australian navy, and civilian companies like the Isle of Wight ferry, hire the use of Portsmouth naval base for repairing and renovating their boats as their expertise is the world's best. Meanwhile, three of our old ships were being fitted up for sale to the Chilean navy. When we got to the semaphore tower, the guide proudly told us that they still use semaphore signals, including exchanging messages with their French counterparts every morning. "I'm old-fashioned," he said, before correcting himself "It's not old-fashioned, it's tradition."

Next we were taken on a guided tour of the Royal Marines School of Music. The site was a naval prison until fairly recently, and today the cells are now individual practice rooms, each one assigned to a particular musician. The doors do look like prison cell ones, and when you're standing between the cells in the middle of the ground floor, looking up at the landings above with nets across the middle, it still looks like a prison. Today, though, the musicians are allowed to decorate their practice rooms with posters, cuttings and the like, and they don't have to live in them :) We also saw a concert hall, and met several musicians who were in there ready to rehearse, and heard some very good music emanating from windows, though some of our party were a little disappointed we didn't get an actual performance.

Richard was camera-happy today; as we left every destination he insisted people pose outside the location for him to take snaps. As we're among those he gets on best with, my mother and I ended up in a lot of his pics.

We had lunch in the HMS Nelson wardroom. They put me next to Maria, and we had quite a pleasant conversation, though she was a little subdued compared to normal. From Jim's conversation with my mother, I understood he and Maria have got some heavy family stuff going on at the moment :( Main course was delicious fillet of beef, with which we got three black olives each. Maria and I love olives, while my mother doesn't like them; when the beef was served, Maria looked at Jim's olives and said "Do you love me, Jim?" Jim replied "No." But when we'd finished he did pass Maria the two olives he hadn't eaten, while my mother passed me all hers.

With the coffee came some luscious-looking Belgian chocolates. I kept up my Lent resistance, to Maria's surprise and Audrey's applause - "You're being good. I should have given up chocolate for Lent," she said, but, presumably deciding there was no point starting halfway, still ate her share of the chocs. Brian from Hart said to me "Perhaps I should offset the damage to Britain's chocolate industry by taking up chocolate for Lent." As we left, my mother asked the Commodore to be in a photo with her; as I took the snap, Margaret said to my mother "You and men in uniform again!"

We'd been back on the bus ten minutes, en route for our last destination, the Royal Marines Museum, when my mother realised she'd left her reading glasses in the wardroom. So as we got off at the museum she told Jenny, one of the Portsmouth City Council staff, of her predicament, and Jenny went off to phone the wardroom and arrange for the specs to be found. Once in the museum foyer, Richard immediately whipped his camera out yet again; Maria exclaimed "Here comes David Bailey again!"

As we sat down in readiness for the guide to talk to us, as there was a stage in place, my mother called out to the people walking about at the front "Are you going to sing for us, or dance?" Maria, who was one of them, replied "I wiggle, I don't sing." I quipped "You've got a lovely little wiggle, Maria." At the time I was trying to talk to Brian, but missed half of what poor old Brian said because of my mother loudly repeating my remark to everyone, then Maria putting her hand on mine and announcing that I'd said she had a lovely little wiggle and therefore I was her friend. At that point, perhaps for the best, the guide arrived at the front and gave us a little talk about the museum, then we were free to wander round.

I went for a quick rove round, glancing at the exhibits - it's a very well presented museum - till my mother and I had to leave early, for her to attend a meeting back in Gosport - via HMS Nelson, where her specs were ready for collection.