On December 8th, Mr T, the WonderDog and I will board the magnificent RMS Queen Mary 2 or, as her friends call her, the QM2.  We’re taking the journey from New York to Southampton not because it’s the world’s most elegant way to travel, but because it’s the only way to get the dog to the UK without putting her in the cargo hold, which I refuse to do. So the Queen Mary it is, a seven day jaunt across the pond. 

Every single person we’ve mentioned this to is beyond excited for us. “What an incredible experience! A trip of a lifetime! What fun! The golden age of travel no less. You must be so excited.” And we are.

There’s just one problem. I hate boats. 

It’s not just cruise ships I dislike, although they are top of the list, floating Petri dishes that are a one way ticket to the Noro virus or worse. Being cooped up for days with people who want to talk to you all the time with no escape except to a tiny room where you can touch all four walls without moving. No sir, not me. 

No, I’m afraid it’s all boats I don’t get along with. Big ones, small ones, party boats, speed boats, sail boats, dinghies. You name it. They all give me the heebie jeebies. 

And I’m not talking just a touch of anxiety or a niggling worry. I mean a morbid terror grips me as soon as I get on board. And that’s just for starters. If it happens to be rough (and by rough, I mean anything choppier than a duck pond) it’s full blown, wild eyed, scratch your eyes out just to get off the boat panic. Did I mention I also vomit? Yup, that too.

I suspect no one has suffered through the agony of my boat terror more than my poor Dad. A Royal Navy man since the age of 17, there’s nothing he likes better than being on a boat. Any boat. Big ones, small ones...see list above. He loves standing on deck with the boat rolling on the sea beneath him. He likes being on board boats, admiring boats, talking about boats. He navigated some of the roughest waters in the world during his time in the Navy, and loved every minute.

And although he’s far too lovely to say so, my dislike of all boats has surely been a monumental disappointment over the years. Many a family holiday, Dad’s had to sit on the deck of some boat or another, patting my white knuckles and telling me we’re nearly there, in between bouts of me heaving over the side. What a treat! I have an inkling that he hopes the Queen Mary will cure my fears, but I’m not so sure.

Because not only do I hate boats, I also have a highly irrational fear of being sick in public, as well as strong phobia of big waves (I’m telling you all my secrets today, and I haven’t had a single drop of wine yet!) So combine the fear of boats, the worry about waves and the threat of sea sickness, and we really have quite the trifecta of terror for the Queen Mary.

And we’re going in December, did I mention that? Across the Atlantic. In the dead of winter. 

I tried to rationalize my fears by doing a bit of research on the internet. Not sure why I thought that would help, when does it ever? My biggest fear is these “rogue waves” you hear about. The internet says they are also called freak waves, monster waves, killer, extreme and abnormal waves, and they happen more than you think. Oh good. In fact, the original RMS Queen Mary was pummeled by a rogue 92 foot wave in 1942. That’s like getting hit by an 8 story building, in case you were wondering. But wait there’s more. The QE2 was also walloped in 1995 by a 95 foot wave and apparently the captain tried to surf down the nearly vertical wave in order not to be sunk. Excuse me for a minute while I go and vomit.

Research into waves is clearly not helping. And remembering how The Titanic ends is also not helping. Really wish I hadn’t read Dead Wake about the Lusitania recently. And the bloody Poseidon Adventure every Christmas?! Oh my god, we’re going to die.

But Mr T isn’t a bit worried. Of course he isn't. As he quite rightly keeps reminding me, that was all so long ago. Those other ships aren’t the Queen Mary 2. Surely they built this thing with big waves in mind, right? Nothing whatsoever to worry about. 

They did indeed build it to withstand big waves. For one thing, she’s massive. Like HUGE. 150,000 tonnes, 18 decks, 236 feet tall, in fact if stood vertically she would dwarf Big Ben, the Eiffel Tower and be just shy of the Empire State Building. Well that sounds sturdy enough to me. But hang on, how does it float if it’s 150 THOUSAND tonnes. How does that even work? And if it’s so tall, wouldn’t that mean more surface area for a killer wave to slam in to? Mr T says I should stop researching because it’s not helping anyone, least of all me. He’s probably right. 

On the plus side, he tells me, the Queen Mary 2 has 15 restaurants and bars, 5 swimming pools and the first planetarium at sea. So there’s that. Just last year, she had the most incredible 90 million pound refit and is the jewel in the crown of Cunard’s fleet. There’ll be black tie dinners, and cocktail parties, and dancing and champagne. There’s a Cunard Wine Academy, the QM2 has the finest wine cellar afloat no less. It may be one of the most decedent, exquisite things we ever do. Well if you put it like that...

So all phobias and vomiting aside, it is going to be the trip of a lifetime. It will be absolutely magical and something we’ll treasure forever. And hey, there’s apparently 2000 bathrooms on board, maybe I can challenge myself to vom in as many as possible? Love a good game, me. And if the monster/rogue/killer/freak wave comes for us and our time’s up, at least we’ll go out in style. We’ll pour another champers and may the band play on. At least we’ll all go together. 

And on that cheery note, I’m off to dust off my ballgowns and practice my foxtrot. To the Queen, god bless her.