Rites And Wrongs Of A Sea Farewell

The Age

Wednesday February 8, 1995

Bob Millington

IT WAS THE most unusual sort of pre-booking. The Dear Old Thing had rung the people in charge of the MV Oceana wondering if they provided such a service.

Indeed they do. With any sort of ceremony that is needed. But would she require the, er, full bit, or would the pottery option suffice?

This is an important question. To bury someone at sea requires a body bag to lawful specifications, plus a weight to speed the aforesaid down to Davy Jones. The funeral barge must be 32 kilometres off Port Phillip Heads. Ashes, however, are far simpler and can be consigned to the deep, or the shallows, in the bay itself.

Ross Haggert and Klaus Costenoble, joint proprietors of the good ship Oceana, are still not sure what the Dear Old Thing has in mind.

They would rather it was an urn job, because they have had experience with reverently tipping contents over the side since they took command in November. But if it's the full job, then so be it.

BUT THAT'S not the main reason for setting off from 12 North Wharf for a river and bay cruise on the Oceana. The boat takes up to 34 people, and lots of folks find excuses for going on board.

Mr Haggert says he likes the hens' parties and the bucks' nights, the sporting club get-togethers and the company conferences around the table in the salon, with nibbles, or a repast, and drinks.

But, let's not put too fine a point on this. The crew also pitch for business from young or old romantics.

The lower parts of the boat can be sealed off. There you will find a spa big enough for two. A four-course meal awaits in the salon. And if a couple should find themselves overcome after all this largesse, why there's a Japanese futon bed for them to, ahem, nap on later.

Mr Haggert, in uniform someone should tell him to change his epaulettes; at present he outranks Cap'n Costenoble, the master picks up the couple in a Mercedes, provides them with champagne, attends discreetly to their creature comforts on the voyage, and delivers them to their door at the end of the evening.

He says he is struck by the geographical divide in Melbourne. They get far more punters from Sunshine, Footscray and the like than from more affluent and toffy locations such as Toorak and Camberwell.

Ah, there's always been more real romance in the west.

ROSS HAGGERT is one more reason for preserving the Commonwealth of Nations. Canadian-born, he wandered down to Australia from India some 27 years ago, lost the job that brought him here, then worked for the Canadian consulate until they looked at his teeth a couple of years back and decided he was too long in the fang.

He found Klaus Costenoble at the Sandringham Yacht Club. Together they found a new life on the water. Fifteen years back, Ross saw Dorothy across a crowded cocktail party. Mrs Haggert, who is not backward on the hospitality business, makes up the rest of the crew.

A cruise on the Yarra? Darn, it's awfully hard to take.

BLECHH! THE saga goes on. Column 8 of The Sydney Morning Herald reports the sad case of Annette Feletti, who lives in the suburb of Surry (sic: they can't spell up there) Hills and who dropped in on Monday to a newsagency in Westfield Towers temporary home to Robert James Lee Hawke, asking for a copy of Woman's Day, the magazine that is carrying the account of the Bob and Blanche romance, paying something like $17,000 for each recorded kiss.

Ms Feletti missed out. The last copy was being borne off by a woman in her '50s, with thick, dark eyebrows and golden hair verging on grey. Could it be? Yes it could! You'd have thought Packer's mob would have given Blanche d'Alpuget a couple of hundred copies to mull over at her leisure.

© 1995 The Age

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