Because we stayed in port, it was really still, so I knew I would sleep badly, so I took a sleeping tablet. When dad rang at 8.30, he woke me up! How I was on the quayside, washed, dressed and breakfasted by 9.05, I have no clue, but I did make it.

Mr Li picked us up ON TIME and drove us into Beijing. It was a long, boring drive on a dead straight road for over 100 km. How he stayed awake, I have no idea. I didn’t. He took us to the Forbidden City first, and the traffic in the centre of the city was a nightmare. We were spoilt, last time. We came on New Year’s Eve, when the whole place was deserted. This was hideous. It took us an hour to get from the expressway to the city – I think it’s about 10km as the crow flies. We paid for a little golf buggy thing to take us round to the main entrance, but they put the ticket booth so far away from the actual entrance, we couldn’t be bothered with the slog! They also had no slopes to help wheelchairs off the kerbs, which were several inches deep. So we beat a hasty retreat back to the car and headed off to the Summer Palace instead. We have now tried and failed to get into the Forbidden City twice. We can take a hint. No disabled people welcome.

At the Summer Palace, we bought our tickets (a bit more sensibly located, this booth) and had to show mum and dad’s passports to get a senior discount for them – again with the LOOK AT THEM!  But when went through the barrier, we were confronted by a massive flight of stone steps! Why would you let a wheelchair through, up a ramp, and not tell them there was a massive great staircase up ahead?! We found some guards in green uniforms and they CARRIED mum, in the chair, up the steps. Which was very nice of them, but frankly the least they could do after having taken thirty quid of our money! Mum said it was very nice, but did nothing to alleviate her fear of flying!

Once up, it was quite flat and (fairly) smooth and we pushed her around the lake from the South Gate to the East Gate, where Mr Li picked us up. We got hopelessly lost and, although it was all very pretty, and looked especially romantic in the mist – just like paintings you have seen, I have two observations about what we encountered during this half hour walk.

1. The Chinese have never seen a wheelchair before and stare quite blatantly. They seem quite fascinated by the idea of HELPING someone old to move about. They are utterly fascinated at the idea of not making someone get up and walk, despite their infirmities. Absolutely hypnotised. They may have to provide disabled toilets by law, but they don’t seem to think much of old people. In fact, they don’t think of them at all.
2. They will push and shove you, no matter who you are, or how old you are. They will physically CLIMB OVER YOUR WHEELCHAIR if they feel you are not getting out of their way fast enough. I try very hard not to be judgemental of other nationalities (although I admit I don’t always succeed!), but what we experienced today would make anyone consider racism as a new hobby. I have never seen every single representative present of an entire nation of people treat each other and everyone around them with such disregard, disdain and outright abuse. Mr Li said it was the “out of towners”, who were also tourists, and that ‘proper’ Beijing people don’t behave like that. I’ll have to take his word for it. But I reckon that 98% of the native Chinese I met today deserve a punch on the nose and a lesson in basic manners. A bit of inconsiderate, ‘not familiar with the concept of personal space’, I can stand, but this was downright offensive, and at times bordered on physical violence. I learned a lot about the locals today, and I now see why the emperors built some epic walls to KEEP THEM AWAY. Nasty bunch. Both the Forbidden City and the Summer Palace were off limits to ordinary folk, and, having met them, I completely understand why. They’re a mean bunch, on the whole. There were exceptions, obviously, but only enough to prove the rule.

And so back to the car and back to the ship. Three hours each way does take a pretty enormous chunk out of a day. Again, the traffic was pretty hideous in the centre of town, but once we were out on the expressway, we had the place pretty much to ourselves.

Mum only ate one packet of crisps between breakfast and supper. None of us had any lunch, come to think of it. We spent too long stuck in traffic to have time for a food stop. I had a GF bread roll I had brought from breakfast, which I ate at about 5pm, in the car on the way back to the port. Dad had nothing at all, that I recall.

We overtook three P&O excursion coaches, so we knew we wouldn’t miss the ship – they can’t go without them! Dad reckoned that, with BOB being 8pm, we would be lucky to sail by 10. It is currently 9.35pm and we are still tannoying for missing passengers, so he’ll probably get it spot on. UPDATE: 10:30. Still sat here… 11.05 pm. Long soak in the shower later? Still here. And we were fretting about being back by 8! (we were at the dinner table for 7.30pm). We started moving at about ten past eleven, in the end.

The pollution in Beijing is horrible. You can taste the air, and see it. Yesterday was bright and sunny, but today was overcast. Still 16 degrees, so not cold, per se – didn’t wear my coat, scarf or gloves (in fact, I nearly left them in the boot of Mr Li’s Mercedes!)- but the air was a strange, opaque sort of yellowy-grey. On the drive back, we saw crops being burned, which was very dramatic and pretty against the night sky, but hardly helpful with the air quality thing. And there is no way that the facial cotton wool should be that colour after a twenty-minute soak in the shower. Yuk.

The shower was essential, not just because of the filth in the air, but also because I felt so grubby after using the public toilets in and around Beijing. An fyi. ALL toilets are a hole in the ground – neatly tiled and ceramiced, unless you go to (a) a five star hotel, such as, ooh, I dunno, the Crowne Plaza* (yes, I appreciate this is a step down from the Pangu 7 star hotel of last time, but we were short on options and time), or (b) find a disabled booth – they are allowed a proper sit down. This may be by the entrance door, or located as far away from said front door as possible. Apparently disabled means unable to fully squat, not unable to walk. And forget toilet paper. Actually don’t forget toilet paper. They don’t provide any. EVER. Ditto with hand soap. Luckily, mum is paranoid enough to carry all of the above at all times. I’m not sure I ever want to shake hands with a local ever again, because I have no idea when they last connected them with a cleaning product. Ick.

*As an aside, when we went into the Crowne Plaza loos, and opened the disabled cubicle door, there was a girl – a member of staff –sitting in there. She shouted at us to close the door. So I did. THEN I realised she was (a) not disabled and (b) sitting there TEXTING ON HER PHONE. So we threw her out. We kept banging on the door and opening it (disabled cubicle, so she couldn’t fix the lock without standing up – it was too far to reach!) until she buggered off. Cheeky bitch. She’s lucky mum was in too much of a hurry to introduce her to the assault options a walking stick affords – she certainly looked like she wanted to.

I have had a very raw, painful throat, croaky voice and sneezing for the past two days, but I think that was probably allergies/pollution rather than another lurgy. Only tomorrow will tell. We have one sea day before South Korea and Japan –then three port days back to back. Yikes. In fact, it takes longer to get from Nagasaki to Osaka than it does to get from South Korea to Nagasaki. Very odd.

I appreciate this sounds, overall, quite negative, but, despite all of the above, we actually had a lovely day. Mum gave it 8 out of 10, and I think Dad enjoyed it too. I’m always happy to see somewhere new. As I said to Dad in the car, there are only two kinds of holiday experience. Good ones and anecdotes. Today was a mixture of both, which suits me fine. I’ll probably not rush to come back here again, but it was a nice enough day out. Thank you to Denise for recommending the Summer Palace.

And the clocks go FORWARD tonight, which means less sleep, which is rubbish too. OBviously.

As predicted, didn’t sleep. But we were up and in our right minds (well, pretty much) and on the quayside just after 9am. They were not there to meet us. Last time, they were ready and waiting, so this was immediately worrying. We waited for a while, and then we rang them. ‘Stuck in traffic – on the way’. So we sat in the UNHEATED terminal (it’s 9 degrees Celsius today) and waited. For TWO HOURS. By which time, we had lost patience. It’s a three-hour drive into Beijing (and three hours back!), and time was running out. Constant phone calls back and forth produced nothing. And we knew there was no traffic to be stuck in, because the shuttle buses were going and returning in SHORTER times than we had been led to expect. By 11am, we were beyond angry, so we told them to cancel, and we would spend the day without them. If I hear the phrase “20 km away” ever again, I will not be held responsible for my actions.

Anyway, long story short, we took the shuttle bus into Tianjin, where P&O, unsurprisingly, took us to a shopping mall. Pleasant enough, if you have no desire to see the rest of the place. But, as P&O thought so little of this town, they didn’t even bother to mention it, except as a gateway to Beijing, we have no idea what we may or may not have missed. Mind you, they didn’t seem to care, either. No one ever offered us a map, or anything. There were some taxis offering tours, but it was a bit unclear of what, exactly. The entire port was silent. Nothing moved. It takes 45 minutes to drive out of the port and into town, so that’s a big place to have nothing happening in it. Frankly, this whole place seems deserted. We saw no one, other than a few people tending the roadside verges and some people in the mall buying nothing and ignoring their children. Meh *shrug*. We wandered, we found some EXCELLENT Chinese food, with which we stuffed ourselves silly at four quid a head, and then we went back to the ship.

I’m skipping the continuous phone calls and texts from the tour people that persisted through most of the morning and early afternoon, including several asking where we were! “I’ve been here at the port for 40 minutes” said one of the text messages. Really? Talk to me when you’ve been sat there for two hours, love, or maybe speak to your boss?! How you turning up at 11:30 for a 9am appointment makes us not being there any more OUR fault, I never did quite establish…

We tried to suggest that we simply abandon today, and reverse our plans, so that we do the things we intended to do today tomorrow, instead. But Jasper absolutely refused. He said the only way to do that would be if we were on the quayside at 6am, or else do it this afternoon. WTF?! Are you kidding me?! How can you do it in 5 hours this afternoon, but not in 10 hours tomorrow?! At this point, we realised he was an idiot, and we hung up.  You cannot hold an intelligent conversation with someone that deranged.

Turns out that the competent one, who organised everything so beautifully for us last time (Tracy), is away on holiday. So, this is my advice. I have recommended China Travel Key in the past, for the wonderful trip they provided for us on our last visit to Beijing. We have frequently recommended them, including just two days ago on board here. But if you cannot deal with Tracy from start to finish, DON’T BOTHER. The rest of them are a bunch of lying incompetents who don’t give a rat’s behind if they ruin your holiday. They will say ANYTHING by way of an excuse, even if it is such manifest gibberish that I cannot even bring myself to type it. You would not believe some of the stuff Jasper came out with. I was embarrassed for him.

As we waited for the shuttle bus back, we got talking with a taxi driver, who spoke pretty good English. He was more than happy to do the things we wanted to do tomorrow. And for less money. So he will be picking us up at 9am, and I will report back how it goes.

He also told us why the residential blocks of flats opposite the mall had some windows boarded up and hoardings all around the bases. Apparently, they were built on the cheap and the windows have a tendency to EXPLODE every so often. Entire blocks have had to be evacuated until it can be sorted out. Wowzer. That’s a flaw and a half.

Bed early. Stressful day doesn’t even begin to describe it.

No chance of a lie-in. Oh no. Not the church bells, however. Instead, it was the Captain, to apologise for how cold the weather is turning. I kid you not. That’s worth waking me up for?!

Sorted mum’s cards and presents, and got up to the restaurant in plenty of time. There were some balloons ready and waiting, so it all went very smoothly. Jonty overran by LOADS, so mum didn’t appear til nearly half 12! Mum was delighted with all her cards and presents, including several from other passengers – and a few that have already left. Their former quiz team mates had even written a poem!

Then back to the cabin. Utterly shattered. Didn’t sleep well last night. Slept for over two hours, so I obviously needed it.

Today, the sea is the colour of green jade, which seems appropriate, under the circumstances.

Dinner went well. The cake was GF, NF but quite edible. The cod was excellent. I’m hoping there will be no ill effects. Mum seemed happy with her cake and singing and people making a bit of a fuss of her.

By the end of dinner, we had entered an enormous bay, and it is now creepily calm. I doubt I’ll sleep tonight. Which is a shame, because we have a hideously early start tomorrow. Bleurgh.

Seems that every person who works at the BBC World News offices wanted a junket to Cuba. I am sick to the back teeth of trailers and stories and pictures and analysis and documentaries and background pieces and SHUT UP. I DON’T CARE. It’s not a new place, you fools, it was always there – you just didn’t pay any attention to it, because you’re so busy following the POTUS party line, which, for a supposedly unbiased international news organisation, is pretty pitiful anyway. You have not discovered a new country. SHUT UP ABOUT THE PLACE. There is currently one trailer that lists FOUR SEPARATE PROGRAMMES that they have coming up – they’re calling it a whole season. It had better not be. Even the filler bits between shows are now photos of Cuba and stupid plinky plonky pseudo-Cuban-style piano music. And that doesn’t even include the actual presidential visit. Seriously, talk about something else, I’m begging now. You’re all we have for news out here. Have mercy.

HEALTH UPDATE: no leg cramps, no digestive issues. Turns out it really might have been GF batter, after all. Which is nice. But at the same time, I have no intention of going through that kind of stress every night for the rest of this holiday.

No concentration, but that’s just par for the course!

On the downside, it can’t have been a very substantial meal, because I woke up this morning absolutely RAVENOUS. I normally don’t feel hunger – ever – but today, I had to order room service, else I was going to have to eat this laptop.

Then the usual fruit, Sudoku, etc. No swim today. Too achy and tired.

Siesta, wrap presents, write card, collate cards from others, ready for the morning. Handily, mum is going to a talk by Jonty Hearnden (*yummy, sigh*) at 11am, which gives us a clear run to get set up with her presents on the lunch table, hopefully.

Dress for formal night. Pink shalwar kameez. It’s too cold in the dining room for anything less. Tights to keep the toes warm. UPDATE: got several compliments again. I wonder why this in particular is so comment-worthy?

Ordered paella for dinner, so there was no argument about ingredients today. It wasn’t what I would call paella, but it is getting to resemble the real thing a little more each time, which I suppose counts as progress. At least it’s not the pale, white, runny risotto we got to start with, in January! This was at least orangey-red in colour, and not as soggy, so we are definitely getting there.

Simon and Garfunkel second show after dinner. Very similar to the first, although some of the slower songs changed – no Scarborough Fair, for example, this time around. Very enjoyable, nonetheless – although if it was me, I would have gone around the audience holding a mirror under their noses. It must have felt like playing to a morgue. Very little clapping, no jiggling, no singing, no response whatsoever for the most part. Even when they made us clap for Cecilia and The Boxer, I was one of less than a dozen who bothered, which was a shame. I hope the second show goes better for them (they are usually more responsive cos they’ve been drinking for longer than the first sitting bunch).

0830 A good night’s sleep makes a tremendous difference, don’t you find? I feel almost human. I say almost. I’m stiff as a board, with particular grumbles coming from my hips, knees and calves. And neck and shoulders. And the middle of my back is a bit twingey too, particularly on the right. Scratch all that. I’m going back to bed.

1100 Two more hours of sleep later? A few less aches, I think. I’ll let you know.

That’s the great thing about sea days that fall after port days. They are 100% devoted to recovery time. I don’t have to do anything today at all, except take care of whatever hurts, eat and hang out. There isn’t even a formal night tonight to blot my horizon with upcoming effort.

Survey update: back seems less grumbly. Right calf still in a sulk. No coughs or sneezes so far.

Oo-er – weather forecast says Hong Kong 22 (which felt arctic after the 35 of Manila), Beijing 16. Yikes. More layers required, methinks. More digging in my future. Definitely. Need to find those gloves for a start.

Spent half an hour at Reception sorting plans for Sunday. Balloons on the cabin door, card from the Captain, flowers at dinner, gluten free, nut free cake for dessert – with singing. Each requires a separate email to a separate person. It’s not a simple process! She had better appreciate all this!

Today we are fog-bound. The visibility is so poor, you cannot even see the bow wave coming away from the side of the ship. That means probably less than 2 or 3 metres. Our mournful foghorn blasts are about three minutes apart, according to mum – I haven’t timed them, myself. Every ship in the world has a different pattern, just as with land-based fog horns and the beams of all lighthouses and lightships around the world. So, theoretically, you should be able to hear a horn and know which ship it is that is about to materialise out of the murk and run you down. That’s handy, then.

The sea is dead calm, which is unsurprising if there is so little breeze that the fog comes down, and stays. It’s quite eerie, if you pay enough attention. It’s a complete whiteout.

Have already met someone in the lift who was bitching about the lack of a view of the scenery. I tried to placate her by pointing out that, in the middle of the ocean, she’s not missing a great deal scenery-wise, but then she started whinging about the mist in Hong Kong yesterday, which ruined her trip up Victoria Peak. Well, you could see it from ground level, hiding the tops of the skyscrapers, so it was hardly going to be a surprise when you got up the top of the mountain, was it?! No one held a gun to your head and forced you to take a trip on one of the world’s oldest and best-preserved funiculars. I decided to get out of the lift early and take the stairs for the rest of the way, rather than listen to her mithering on any longer. Miserable cow. You’ve been at sea less than twelve hours, for pity’s sake, and you have three weeks ahead of you. This probably won’t last long. Lighten up! Yuk.

Remember what I was saying about Manila traffic? It’s not just me.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-35340371

Dinner was a bit tricky. I asked for the fish goujons, but in GF breadcrumbs instead of batter, with some chips. What was served to me was fish in BATTER, with BOILED potatoes. It would appear that, at Hong Kong, we rotated the kitchen staff, and we have a new chef doing Special Diets, who thinks that he gets to decide what I am permitted to eat. I very rarely order potatoes of any kind, let alone chips, so I was pretty offended that he had decided I should not have any, but should be restricted to boiled instead. How dare he?!

But far more worrying was the batter. Because that meant it looked no different from the ordinary fish dishes, so how could I be sure it was GF and I hadn’t been served the wrong plate of food? I ordered it to be done differently for a REASON. The new waiters ran back and forth to the kitchen several times to confirm that it DEFINITELY was GF batter, because, frankly, I didn’t believe them. But after repeated reassurances, I did eat it. And some chips did appear, as well, so it was quite a tasty meal in the end.

But I’m still not happy. I’m not putting up with that kind of stress every night for the rest of this cruise. The head waiter said he would have a word with the Diet Chef, because he had been very explicit in writing down exactly what I had ordered, so the chef had no business changing anything. He said, if he does it again, he’ll be on the next helicopter home. I said we should just shove him over the side and be done with it. I was laughing, but inside I was seething. He had better not ‘interpret’ my instructions like that ever again, or I’ll be going straight to the F&B Manager to have him removed from his post. He cannot be allowed to be responsible for Special Diets if he is just going to cook whatever he bloody well feels like. We order our meals 24 hours in advance, so that they have plenty of time and warning to create WHAT WE ASKED FOR, not what he feels like letting us have. One more chance, tomorrow. That’s all he gets. How dare he? What if he had produced something that made me ill? Just because he couldn’t be bothered to do what he was told?! It’s absolutely not acceptable. Am very worried about a possible reaction later, but so far, so good…

Happy St Patrick’s Day. And Happy Birthday to my aunt, as well.

Weather: grey, overcast, no higher than 20, cloud so low the tops of the buildings were missing, a bit of mizzle now and then, a bit chilly in the breeze. Not marvellous weather by any means. Coats and jackets and long trousers and socks and all sorts of stuff I haven’t set eyes on in weeks. This village is called Much Rummaging in the Cases, and the specific street is named Coat But No Gloves Way. Yes, way, dude. Cold fingers. Can’t remember the last time I had cold fingers. We are definitely back in the Northern Hemisphere now.

This is definitely one of the best parking spaces in the world. Granted, the one between the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Opera House is probably number 1, but Kowloon comes pretty close. We park right next to the Star Ferry terminal at the purpose-built cruise terminal, and completely ignore all the designer shops between us and the street, as we walk into the city.

We like Hong Kong. Specifically, we like shopping in Stanley Market. We took the Star Ferry across to Hong Kong island, and intended to catch a bus. But they have moved the bus station from being right next to the ferry terminal to a good mile walk away, across a massive footbridge. So, instead, we took a cab to Aberdeen and Stanley. Reader, we shopped. When 100% cashmere jumpers are twenty quid a pop, it would be rude not to. And the public toilets are quite usable, too, fyi.

After a brief lunch at Pizza Express (not very authentic, but you can’t have everything, particularly when you’re a coeliac), we wandered some more, down by the sea. We found a brand spanking new, absolutely enormous, completely ugly, vastly over-priced, inaccessible by car, and generally totally inappropriate five-storey shopping mall had been built right next to the market. We used their loos and changed some money. That’s it. I saw a Moomin lamp I liked, about a foot high. £175. Er, don’t think so. See what I mean by inappropriate?! Next to a market renowned the world over for high quality, low price products. Ridiculous. The people who go to the one are hardly likely to go to the other. Needless to say, the big ugly mall, with the boring chain restaurants and ludicrous shops, was pretty much deserted.

I did find a homewares store called Homeless (I think they were going for Home FOR Less, but something got lost in translation), which raised a smirk, but that was about it. That’s the only nice thing I can think of to say about the place.

Which is sad, because they have clearly put a lot of time and money into it. Especially publicity-wise. They have held a World Record Attempt event there every year since it opened, and they have the certificates to prove it. All revolving around dogs, bizarrely, although we saw nothing bigger than a sparrow all day (although LOTS of sparrows). They have the world record for most dogs groomed in a single event, most dogs in a behaviour class, and so on. They have four different records. And they still have no customers. Hmmmmm.

Once we had shopped ourselves to a virtual standstill – in the MARKET, of course – we tried to go back into town to go to the Mandarin Oriental Hotel for afternoon tea. The taxi driver took us a different route to the one we normally take, which was really pretty, and took less time as well, which was a nice touch. Unfortunately, when we arrived, climbed the stairs (no disabled access) and walked in, we discovered they were JACKHAMMERING the floor on the Mezzanine level. They will stop by 6pm, said the Receptionist. Well, I THINK that’s what she said – there was some lip-reading involved. If you think we are paying you good money, for what was supposed to be a quiet, relaxing afternoon tea, whilst you scramble our ears and brains and vibrate our fillings, for an hour, you are out of your mind. So we got in another taxi and went back to the terminal.

We thought we remembered that the Peninsular Hotel was a block away – it isn’t, it’s about four blocks. And they have built a hotel and designer shopping complex in between the two, and a subway under the road, and fenced off the pavements, so you cannot walk across. And the one place you can cross, they’ve put a twenty foot wide sign that says “Please do not cross here”. Some of you will not be surprised if I tell you that the phrase “Beware of the leopard” sprang to mind. It was a ridiculous trek to get to the hotel. Utterly exhausting.

When we arrived, we found a huge queue for tea in the main lounge with the over-amplified string quartet (who the hell feels the need to amplify a string quartet?!). So dad went upstairs to the Verandah restaurant and confirmed we could eat there, instead (and listen to the quartet through the floor!). They made me some gluten-free cucumber sandwiches to order, which was kind. Sadly, they used gluten-free bread that belonged to the ‘disintegrate on contact with anything’ school of bakery. Sawdust glued together with WD40 would have had more solidity. So the final product was quite tasty, but not very dainty to eat. Very very messy.

Then back on board in time for dinner. New tablemates: Brenda and Graham, from Leicester, and Keith and Maggie, from Peebles in Scotland (although with English accents). They seem very nice. We had a lovely chat. This might go quite well.

Time for bed. it’s nearly half nine and I ache in places I really should not. I feel like I’ve walked several marathons. Through treacle. And rocks. Thank goodness for consecutive sea days.

Did Ted Cruz just say he was going to abolish the IRS?! I know I’m discombobulated from lack of sleep and too many cold meds, but that doesn’t sound very sensible from a revenue-raising point of view.

Lunch: fruit, pasta, Sudoku, slap bang in the middle of the South China Sea. 24 in the shade. Much more manageable.

Dad and I had a chat about my latest OU essay. He questioned whether anything actually has intrinsic value, or if it is always dependent on an outside perspective. A diamond means one thing to a miner, another to a jeweller, and something else entirely to a drill bit maker. This, I pointed out, is instrumental value. But then, as he pointed out, when a diamond comes out of the ground, it is not beautiful until it is cut, so there is nothing intrinsically special about it. A Martian would probably not consider it special. But, I said, that is extrinsic value, not intrinsic. Does it not have rarity or beauty or some value unrelated to what we do with it? So we tried water. Does a drop of water not constitute something wonderful, in and of itself? The moulding of three atoms just so? With a triple point and such possibilities of form, let alone function? Or only because it can give life, or quench thirst or whatever? Does anything have intrinsic value at all? Dad thinks not. I’m not so sure, but I could not think of an example that I was satisfied with.

Walking back to the cabin for a siesta at about 3pm in a noticing frame of mind. You walk through the self-service canteen, with the chatting of the passengers and the murmurings of the crew, and the crashing of stainless steel trays and the clinking of cutlery and cups, to the lift lobby, which is located beneath The Hardest Working Air Con Unit In All Christendom – it makes the ceiling and the rather dodgy art on the walls visibly vibrate. Then you enter the bing bong of the lift (two for going down, which is the only option from here), and a nice lady or gent tells you very politely and in perfect Received Pronunciation that you have reached your deck – having travelled from Lido to Canada (which apparently is decidedly more wonderful than travelling from nine to six – who knew?!). Then you walk down a corridor that, at first glance, seems entirely silent. The absence of sound is so great, it fills your ears, as if you are under water. You are straining to hear, but there is nothing. And then your ears realise that the volume has dropped, and they adjust. And within a few feet, you find you can hear the constant quiet hum of the air con, which is rather reminiscent of a distant tube train that never stops arriving. And then you hear teacups and teaspoons colliding behind closed doors, and the chatter of a television turned up just a little bit too loud, and a bathroom door click shut as someone either enters or exits their en suite. And you realise that there is never, ever any silence on a cruise ship. You may be in the middle of a vast grey-blue ocean, with nothing but two frigate birds and a passing container ship to interrupt the view in any direction, but there is never silence. Sitting here in my cabin, typing this, I am still accompanied by the pulsating whisper of my cabin’s air con (which sounds as though its throat hurts as much as mine does – the word rasping springs to mind), the strange rattling Morse code-style squeak of the plastic wall cladding that does not fit quite snugly enough against the metal bulkhead beneath, and the chattering chime of the coat hangers in the wardrobe, still gallantly fighting for freedom against the magnetically-held wooden doors. And then I am hit by a massive sneezing fit, and the moment is broken. Or I am broken. Or the drugs have worn off. Or something. Time for that lie down I have been promising myself. I’ve been awake for, like, AGES, man.

After dinner, went to the cinema to see The Intern. Very enjoyable. Was a bit disappointed at the hideously Hollywood ending, but nothing’s perfect, I suppose.

Then went to the show – The Simon and Garfunkel Story. Extracts from the hit West End show, by the original cast. Absolutely superb. If you closed your eyes, you could have sworn it was the real two, themselves, singing to you. The Paul Simon was especially good. He even had his mannerisms and movements down, including the way he held his guitar. Absolutely superb. If you ever get a chance to see this show, anywhere in the world, please go. You’d be missing an absolute treat.

Then a goodbye drink with Christine – who won her cruise in a competition – before she flies home tomorrow, along with the 1139 others getting off. Will miss her loads. May have made a ‘proper’ friend there. That makes three – Single Michael and Paula are also in email contact with me. And very lovely they both are too (remembering they are reading this!) ;-). And Dale!

FRAUD UPDATE: Not fraud after all. Just a massive bit of incompetence on the part of a company that really ought to know better than to send out blank invoices without warning. Yes, I do wish to renew, actually, NOW I KNOW WHAT WE ARE TALKING ABOUT. You fools.

Time for bed. Hong Kong tomorrow. Scratch that – it’s 2am! Hong Kong in less than five hours’ time! Oops.

I’m going to go out on a limb and say that a port day in a big city is not the moment to conclude that (a) this is not a cold but some version of flu that involves exceptional amounts of aching, from my eyelids down, and (b) there may be a migraine mixed in, but I’m feeling so rotten, right now, I could probably not be certain for a while yet.

Lovely weather. Very warm, dry, sunny with a little cloud, not too humid.

No live telly today – we are moored next to an American destroyer of some sort.

Greeted on the quayside by dancers and performers and people handing out beads and maps and a group playing Axel F on xylophones. I kid you not. I filmed it. A thoroughly lovely welcome. This is Arcadia’s maiden visit, so they put on a bit of a fuss. We’ll have a band on the quayside when we leave, as well, I imagine (UPDATE: Yup).

Then onto the blessedly air conditioned shuttle buses to take us into town. It took 20 minutes. It would probably have been quicker to walk. It wasn’t very far, as the crow flies. The traffic in this town is EPIC. And homicidal. Epically homicidal. They’re all mad. Every last one of them. Or maybe suicidal. Or both. I would be more scared to cross the road here than in Da Nang. MUCH more scared. They’re all so mental they have to have traffic lights, with countdowns, not just for the pedestrians, but for the vehicles too, AND police men standing in the middle of the road on point duty with whistles and white gloves. And it’s STILL mental. Well, if you’re expected to ignore the lights, and have to be controlled by a human being threatening to arrest you, you can only imagine the state of mind at work…

First thing to know about the Philippines. They have never even heard of gluten being a problem. They have no concept of flour being anything other than wheat. They look at you like you are completely mad when you suggest that bread can be made with anything other. So lunch was a green salad. I kid you not. EVERYTHING is coated in flour here. They do fried chicken, they do dumplings, they do chips, they do wedges,  they do anything and everything – bread, noodles, whatever. It is just that it is all covered with and made from wheat flour  (sometimes both at once). Even TGI Fridays here does not do gluten free, unlike the same chain in other countries. Which was a shame. I though I might at least be able to rely on them, but apparently not. I didn’t even bother to ask in McDonalds.

Second thing to know about Manila. They have loads of malls. It is a shopping heaven. This is, officially, the primary thing to do here. They don’t stress their history or old stuff, or traditions. They just build shopping malls. Especially if you happen to arrive during the sales. Which we did. Which was nice. Not very nice for my Visa card. But nice for me. The shuttle bus took us to Robinson Mall, which is the biggest in Asia or the world or something. The shops are themed by floor – so there is a tech floor, and a homewares floor, and then there are the clothing floors – two of them. There is a sort of food court, but there food places everywhere.  It’s bloomin’ miles inside, that I do know. You navigate by which WING you are in. I think there are three, but don’t quote me on that. I have an excellent sense of direction and I got COMPLETELY lost. Twice. Needless to say, it was very handy that we were dropped between H&M and M&S, both of which have sales on. Very handy indeed.

We started at the top and worked our way down (after M&S, which OBViously takes priority). I came home with a reassuring number of bags. We ended in the ground floor supermarket, which has queues that give the disabled and elderly priority. As there were healthy people in the queue, they were asked to allow mum to queue-jump, as the whole point is so that she wouldn’t have to stand for long. Which they did. Which was nice.

The only downside of the whole day was the mall toilets. Think Trainspotting. You’ve never seen anything like it. I could go into detail, but, trust me, someone somewhere is eating while they are reading this, and I’m not that unkind. And this is supposed to be a really posh mall! It really jaded my view of both Manila and Filipino personal habits. Eurgh.

On the way back, we drove through the streets, of what appeared at first glance to be a very poor, run down city. They have all the wiring on poles outside, running along the street about ten foot up. There is no way they can tell which wire goes to which house, so if there is a problem, chances are , they just add a new wire. The rubbish piles up in the streets, and there is litter and grubbiness everywhere. But when you look closer (which you have time to do in a half hour traffic jam), you see that, apart from the jeepneys, which are essentially public transport, most of the cars are big, shiny, clean and very expensive-looking. And everyone is impeccably dressed. Clean, pressed, new clothes. And well-turned out from head to toe. They all have perfect hair and nails and their uniforms are pristine. Nothing is quite as it first appears.

Then back to the ship, for a short but expensive bit of Skyping, just to check in with folks, and then dinner.

I really overdid it today, and halfway through dinner, my system started to basically shut down. I didn’t even last until dessert.  I was in bed by 8.15. I am officially Not Well.

The start of a new week. Like that’s not rubbish enough, as it is. Oh no. Log on to emails. Find my PayPal account has been hacked and someone has tried to take 107 quid from me. Spiffing.

So now I have to spend time trying to work out how to notify Nat West not to pay this when the request comes in, because they have a website that says the only way to report fraud is by telephone. Stupid asses. Seriously? What year is this again?!

I was able to dispute the payment before I got kicked out of my PayPal account, so hopefully it will never get that far, but it’s very frustrating having to wait until other people bother to do their jobs properly. I even tried Nat West’s Live Chat but, of course, no one answered at 2am, despite their assurance that it is a 24 hour service. *sigh*

I have no idea why I have been kicked out of my PayPal account – it may be the hacker has tried to change my password, or it may be that that is their standard procedure when they get a fraud alert. I have no idea. No one tells you anything. I suspect it is the hacker, because PayPal also say you have to be logged in to message them, which now I obviously cannot be. All I can do now is wait. And swear.

Interestingly, they committed this act at about 2am UK time. They were probably hoping that it wouldn’t be spotted for about eight hours, giving them time to pocket the funds and get away. The trouble for them was, that, because of the time difference, I logged on less than fifteen minutes later, and was able to spot it instantly. In fact, I think I may have been logged into PayPal at the same time as they were, because I was halfway through changing my security details when I suddenly found myself kicked to the kerb. So they must have changed things faster than I was doing it. if I’d known it was a race, I’d have typed quicker!

The stupid thing is that, even from the one notification email I received, it was OBVIOUS to me that this was not a genuine payment. For a start, the product description was blank. Does ANYONE do their job properly any more? Does anyone take any pride in a job well done? Or is the entire planet just now populated by 7 billion people who don’t give a damn, just go through the motions, take the pay, go home? It’s depressing.

On the plus side, my ‘holiday’ credit card is not linked to my PayPal account, so it should not affect me on a day to day basis, for now, at least. But it’s SO annoying.

UPDATE: PayPal have now let me back into my account. Well, it’s a start.

UPDATE 2: Sore throat has now progressed to sneezing fits and bunged up head. Today just gets better and better. On the plus side, having spent the whole night coughing, that seems to have now finished. Not sure I’m going to be up to doing much in Manila tomorrow though – I’m feeling very weak and weary and wobbly. Maybe an early night will help. and we get an extra hour as the clocks go back – to GMT +8.

Woken at 8.30 by some loud, but incomprehensible announcements – I think they were for crew, not passengers. These continued, at roughly half hour intervals, until it was time for the church bells (which did NOT come into the cabins) and I gave up and got up.

When people give talks on board, they are filmed, and then rebroadcast on the televisions in the cabins. The one I have found this morning is about who might have been Jack the Ripper. It was quite interesting, aside from the fact that he spent most of his time slagging off authors of opposing books and theories!

Now he is saying that Sherlock Holmes was REAL and might have been involved in the Jack the Ripper murders. In fact, apparently, all the Sherlock books are dated, and he had a ‘day off’ on the date of every Ripper murder. So does that mean he investigated, or does it mean he DID them?! It raises some interesting questions, apparently. Does it? About Sherlock. Er, no. He is FICTIONAL. Maybe, conceivably, about Arthur Conan Doyle, but I doubt that too. Funny way to end an otherwise apparently well-researched, factually-based talk.

Turn over to Live at the Apollo. Justin Morehouse is rather funny. Must keep an eye out for him in the future.

The people of Glasgow did not welcome or support Bonnie Prince Charlie. In fact, they actively rejected him. He went around Glasgow, to Perth, Stirling and Edinburgh, instead. This is the sort of random stuff you learn from channel hopping on the cabin telly!

We have now sailed 22,182 miles since leaving Southampton.

At the beginning of each leg, fresh toiletries are delivered to the cabin. So far I have 4×100 ml of Jasmine, rose and neroli shampoo by The White Company, and 4×100 ml of Jasmine, rose and neroli conditioner, also from The White Company, along with four individually wrapped shower caps, all unused and going spare. If you want them, yell soon, otherwise, they’ll go back to the steward. But if you want them, they’re yours.

Gosh, my thoughts are scattered today!

Feel really under the weather, even though the sore throat has (pretty much) subsided. Going back to bed.

I seem to have hit a rich seam of CSI: Miami, every evening after dinner. Not sure why they have suddenly started in the past few days, but I’m enjoying it.