Ten hours’ sleep. Now THAT’s more like it.

I am still struggling with the fact that we are now behind the UK, having spent so much of the cruise in front. It’s very odd to wake up and realise you are all already heading home from work. And it makes deadlines very hard to keep! If I say happy birthday to you on the wrong day, be patient with me!

Formal lunch for Round The Worlders. Got the Galley Manager on our table. Difficult to hold a conversation with him, when he is solely responsible for cleaning and equipment! Don’t have any issues with those! I mentioned that they don’t sweep up after deck buffets, and bits get blown into the pool, and he said he would pass that on, but other than that, frankly, we mostly talked around him. The most entertaining thing about him is that he has the same name as our waiter, yet denies knowing who he is. You’re the Galley Manager and you don’t know the waiter with the same name as you?! Seriously?! And I don’t mean just the first name. I mean first AND surname the same. The same entire name. Very odd.

Debra and her husband didn’t go to the San Francisco dinner, so we told them all about that. Then the Captain made a speech about how lovely the San Francisco dinner was. We applauded the bit about the building, but not the mention of the food!

Apparently, the loyalty boy who has been lying in his letters to us, has also got a bit of an attitude in person, and Debra’s husband has had cause to say “I am the passenger. Don’t you ever speak to me like that”.  And yes, it did relate to the SF dinner, but BEFORE the event, not after!

Seriously, this is the LOYALTY desk. Talk about someone being in the wrong job! If you’re prepared to lie to the passengers in writing, AND be rude to their faces, you REALLY need to reconsider your career decisions, because inspiring loyalty and return custom is absolutely definitely NOT your thing.

Outside the dining room, I bumped into Helen, the Hotel Manager, who got off at Sydney and back on at San Francisco. She said that they had tried to source GF bread in Mexico, but to no avail, but were hoping to get some in Panama, which would be loaded at the first lock. Right, I’ll believe that when I see it!

I mentioned to her the thing with the laundry labels and she said she would have a word. In case I haven’t mentioned it (and apols if I have), whereas there used to be iron-on labels with your cabin number in each garment, that were quite easy to remove, they have now taken to writing your cabin number in permanent marker on the clothing label. Which is fine. FOR THE DURATION OF THIS CRUISE. When I get on another ship, and I am in a different cabin, is C188 going to be the recipient of all my clean underwear?! FFS. You fools.

Formal dinner. Sigh. So bored of food now. Don’t even recall what I ate. Nice chat with Scott and Etta and Janet. Cod, I think I had (GF) breaded cod. Anne and Pauline seem to be gone for good from our table. Not gutted, frankly.

I have now seen two Sherlock Holmes/Robert Downey Jnr films in the last week. Entertaining enough bubblegum for the soul, the highlight of the first being the half-built Tower Bridge (although it’s a way longer run from the House of Parliament than they suggested), and the highlight of the second being Stephen Fry with no clothes on.

But I’m afraid I was unable to get past RDJ’s appalling English accent in either instance. Clipped is one thing, positively gunfire-esque is quite another. Horrible sound. Especially next to Jude Law’s natural tones. I would put RDJ’s attempt in the top three Worst American Attempts At An English Accent Ever – second only to Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins and Angela Lansbury’s various attempts at Cockney in several episodes of Murder, She Wrote. If you have a more execrable offering to proffer by way of bumping RDJ down the rankings, I would be interested to hear it, because I can’t think of any that are nearly so awful.

Tonight I completed the Customer Satisfaction Survey for the Round the World Event at San Francisco. My reward for doing so will apparently be a free glass of champagne. One glass. Steady on. Don’t overdo it, now. Mind you, if you don’t know what went wrong at San Francisco by now, I can’t help you.

Weather forecast for tomorrow. 32 in the shade, with rain. Welcome to the Tropics. We are now only ten degrees north of the Equator, although we won’t cross it again on this trip. Tonight, we are crossing the Guatemala Basin, southwards, if you want to look us up on a map.