Day Eleven.

Cartagena. Last stop. Phew. This many port days in a row is very tiring.

There was another ship in port today, parked next to us. The Riviera. Remember her?!

We took the Luggie buggy ashore today, and mum terrorised the locals. Cartagena has one main street of shops, which is pedestrianised (except for taxis, who can appear from nowhere and run you down, at any moment and from any direction, without so much as a by your leave), with brand new, very flat, smooth tiles on the ground, which were perfect for mum after the rather hilly cobbles of Florence. Beautiful warm, sunny day, blue skies – lovely.  We pootled and shopped and pootled and stopped for coffee/lunch/snacks/loos/tea. Mum bought some tops in Punto Roma, which is her favourite chain, I think. Despite visiting several clothes and shoe shops, all I bought back in the end was some travel miniatures of my favourite moisturiser which were 75p each for 50ml.

We did not visit the Roman ruins today, but some of the Art Nouveau architecture in town was amazing. Very, um, frilly, Talking of which, we had intended to aim for the Gran(d) Hotel, which sounded nice, and looked spectacular from the outside.

It was recommended both on our tourist map AND in the P&O port guide. Shame it was converted into offices YEARS AGO… >:-(  This is the level of care/competence we face at the hands of P&O. Granted, in this instance, the town map was just as unhelpful, but we trust P&O to at least pretend to check their facts, which, they manifestly do not. In fact, I have made a list of port guide errors on this cruise, which I will submit to the editors on my return home. The Cartagena guide total currently stands at three, but I am expecting to spot more next time I read it.

In the end, we stopped for lunch at a place called the Cotton Grill American Diner on Calle Major (pronounced Car-yay Ma-yor). It’s what the Spanish think an American diner looks like/does, so almost…! I had a gluten-free chicken burger and dad had a smoked salmon club sandwich that was about the same size as his head. It had coleslaw in, as well, so at the end, he didn’t look like he had eaten it, so much as bathed in it. He pronounced it messy but tasty! Mum ordered macaroni cheese. What arrived initially was lukewarm penne with cold grated cheese sprinkled on top. We eventually communicated the concept of grilling, and she was much happier once the cheese had melted.  Everyone really enjoyed their meal, in the end.

At tea, I wrote my last postcard and posted it. I wonder if it will get home before we do? We found an NH hotel, like the one we found earlier in the cruise. We know they both do gluten free AND have lovely loos, so they are an excellent backup resource.

It doesn’t sound like much work/effort, but the above is a summary of about four or five hours of stuff! Time for a nap, methinks.

Lost the quiz on a tie-breaker. Good, we don’t want to have to drink that stuff. Bleurgh. That close is close enough by us. Then straight to bed for an early night. Really need some solid kip. I’m shattered. I may need a holiday to get over the holiday.

Day Ten – Barcelona

Woke screaming with cramp, all the way from all five toes to knee, left foot, up the front and outside simultaneously. I was sobbing with the pain. The muscles were so in spasm that I could not put my foot flat on the ground. I had to stand on it with the other foot to make it go down flat. That’s what gluten does to me. One of the things, anyway. So, let’s go with ‘up and about earlier than planned’.

The ship’s newspaper said that we had to take our passports ashore today. This is transparently nonsense. We are in Europe. We need nothing of the sort. In addition to which, this is the tourist theft capital of the world. Everyone on this ship has a mugging or dipping story to tell about Barcelona, including one I witnessed myself. So, no, nothing as valuable and difficult to replace as my passport is going ashore today. We compromised and shoved photocopies in a pocket, but no one asked to see them. I don’t know why Barcelona always ask us to do this. It’s nonsense. When you arrive in the city by air, you leave your passport in the hotel, you don’t wander the streets with it. So why should we cruise passengers have to? I could rant on this topic for hours – how it ruins lives and holidays, probably contributes to the bad reputation of the city because we are known sitting ducks, strands people and prevents them from going home, leaving the country, continuing their holiday, etc. This is something I have thought long and hard about and discussed at length with others. I have a LOT to say on this subject. Not really the time to say it all here. Maybe I’ll do a full length Mpinion piece sometime, when I’m not so busy.

Anyway, they made us use the airbridge to disembark. This is folded back on itself, so you are essentially walking an extra half mile to end up just feet from where you started. Very frustrating, and thoughtless for those with limited mobility, who, as I often point out, are quite plentiful on P&O ships, and on this cruise are even more well-represented than usual. We opted for mum to be pushed ashore in a borrowed wheelchair, after which we walked and taxied the rest.  The airbridge was even more frustrating when you looked down and saw a ten foot gangplank on the lower level, being reserved for crew only. Hardly fair.

Quick shuttle bus into town, and then found a taxi to take us to one of the shops on the list I had researched. Quite a long way from the centre of town. And when we got there? The shop wasn’t there! Most miffed. Will be writing a rude letter. I only looked it up on the website yesterday afternoon. So we wandered a little and accidentally found ourselves having coffee in a very nice hotel, called the Hotel Casa Fuster, which is part of the HC group. Never heard of either. But very lovely. Our drinks and danishes cost the same as lunch would do later, but it was well worth it, just for the lovely loos.  Then they found us a cab, which took us to C&A. Mum bought a blouse, but I came away empty-handed.

We then went to McDonalds for lunch.

Now, you may be thinking, ‘that’s not very posh/local/interesting’, but when you are a recently-diagnosed coeliac who hasn’t eaten one of their favourite foods in nearly two years, because she will get ill, it is a momentous event. Because McDonalds in Spain does GLUTEN FREE BURGER BUNS. This meant that I could have a quarter pounder and chips, with ketchup and a Diet Coke, just like in the old days, and just like a normal person. It made me so happy, I nearly cried.  And it tasted divine.

Bizarrely, this branch of Maccy D’s then let itself down massively. It was spread over three floors. There was a lift to go to the food ordering level and the extra seating level. But if you wanted to use the loo, the only option was two flights of stairs, one of which had no handrail at all. Who designed that?! Just goes to show what mum can achieve if she’s determined enough, though!

Then we pootled down Las Ramblas, bumping into fellow passengers – which wasn’t as obvious as in some other ports – there are four cruise ships in today (including one that no one recognised – either ship or line- it was called the Riviera – pay attention there will be a test later). The Costa Fortuna is parked next to us – we’ve made that joke before when we’ve seen them elsewhere– but now it says the line is the Neo Costa. THAT’s the best you can do at rebranding?!

We popped into Carrefour (vive la France!) for gluten free crisps (when in Spain…!) (they are Lays, who are the same company as Walkers – so why are Lays’ salt and vinegar gluten free and Walkers’ are not?) and then hailed an electric taxi to take us back to the shuttle bus. It’s eerily quiet inside a Prius. Very weird.

Much hassle finding a wheelchair to get mum back on board, precisely as expected. P&O are very nice about wheelchair assistance, but they just don’t think it through. They need a logistics expert to explain it to them. I doubt they would listen to me, if I tried. Taking someone ashore is all very well, but you need someone on the quayside to BRING THEM BACK AGAIN. *sigh*

P.S. Did not win the quiz last night. Only got 16 out of 20. One table (that includes Ross, Cheryl and Gary) got 20 out of 20, which is pretty hard to beat… I was surprised how not insufferable they were afterwards. I was expecting much more gloating than I got. Which was nice.

Last night was eighties music in the nightclub, so we had a good old singsong. Ross was a bit out of his depth at times, having not been born until 1992… *sigh*.

Tomorrow: Cartagena (pronounced Carta- hay – na (and if you can make the aitch sound like loch, so much the better), and not some of the gibberish I have heard from other passengers and crew today).

Day Nine – Tuesday 17^th November

Monte Carlo, capital of the Principality of Monaco

They speak French here, which makes me happy.

We had lots of warnings about tenders yesterday, but woke to find we had moored alongside, so no need for tenders at all.  This meant that those with limited mobility and full-time wheelchair users could go ashore after all, whereas tenders would cause them problems and prevent some from going ashore altogether.

Weather: warm but overcast with a slight breeze. About 19 or 20 degrees in the shade. Very pleasant.

The local ‘hop on hop off’-type tour bus stopped right in front of the ship, so we boarded and got our bright red earphones, to listen to one of the most bored-sounding guided tours I have ever had on one of these buses. It drove us around the various sights – past the Grand Casino and a VERY expensive-looking shopping centre (I probably couldn’t afford to even look in the windows, never mind walk inside), and then along the marina with the rather silly-sized yachts. At what point does a boat stop being a boat and become a floating house? Some of these were four or five stories high! We even saw one with a helipad on the front. Just silly. Pretty (for the most part), but silly.

Then the bus took us up what they call The Rock (confusing of those of us who know Gibraltar and/or Alcatraz as The Rock). This is the old/original town, and site of the Palace and the lovely quaint little alleys and streets that we were hoping for. We got there with not long to wait for the changing of the guard. They have a little four-piece marching band – two drums, two bugles – to escort them from one side of the square to the other. Very nice. The flags were at half mast.

Then we bought (surprisingly reasonably-priced) souvenirs, and found somewhere for lunch. It wasn’t until afterwards that I realised it was called Café Tony. Doesn’t sound very French, does it?! But the steak was good and mum and dad finished their pizzas, so no complaints there. Mum’s pizza topping was something called aubergine caviar, which we have never seen anywhere else, but which she seemed to thoroughly enjoy. And I had my last steak cooked by a French chef for the foreseeable future. Which is a little sad.

Then more pootling and shops and admiring the cleanliness of the place. It is all very pretty here. They have clearly made an effort to make everything look as nice as possible. All the flowerbeds are manicured, all the gutters are clean. Absolutely no graffiti. It all appears spotless. Until you go down a side street. Then you start to find chipped paint and broken toilet facilities, and it all seems a bit more ‘normal’. Out on the main drags, it’s what I would expect Portmeirion to look like if it was a country, not a town. Very pretty but perhaps a little soulless.

Then back onto the tour bus and back to the ship by 3. For some reason BOB was 4.30 today – that may have been because of the tenders, but I don’t recall any announcement changing the time because we had moored. Still, we’ve seen pretty much the whole country, so that’s fine by me. Just enough time for a shower while the ship is still. It was a nice day – I got to speak some French, and mum and dad seemed happy. Tomorrow: Barcelona.

Day Eight – Monday 16^th November

Had a phone call this morning from the head of Ents on board. Apparently, the port agent said they should go ahead with the deck party, because he wanted it to be as ‘normal’ a day as possible for the town. I said that, whatever the port agent said, the people coming out of church may not have agreed, but he just launched into a spiel about the ethics of war in the first place and I hung up. Talk about missing the point. We sailed out past a church, you fool. The people in their praying for their compatriots to the north maybe didn’t feel like being on the receiving end of YMCA as we passed by.

And so Livorno. Well, the port guide was less than complimentary, so I wasn’t surprised to find that, after it had been bombed to bits in the war, what was built in its place was mostly ugly, utilitarian and concrete. But they are restoring some of the old buildings, and the wall around the city is mostly intact. But it’s a major port, so it’s not very pretty to look at. We were, as usual, parked in the container port, although there weren’t many containers in on a Monday morning. Just mountains of shredded bark (for biomass fuel maybe, or maybe they just mulch all their parks in winter?), concrete powder and what looked like powdered chalk – it was ‘hurt your eyes’ bright white. No idea what that is for.

There is another cruise ship in. called the Moby. No idea what line it is. It has giant Warner Bros characters painted on the side, so I’m guessing not a child-free ship. I wonder how our passengers reacted to opening their curtains this morning to find a forty-foot Daffy Duck giving them the evil eye?

One thing I have learned during this cruise is that it is considered to be winter by Mediterranean standards (although 20 in the shade and overcast is fine by me). This means that you cannot buy open toed shoes anywhere. And I mean anywhere. Even the evening shoes in the shops have closed toes. They obviously have decided that open toes are for summer only and that no one in their right minds would want to buy anything other than boots come November. They may be right, but I’m not in my right mind at the best of times, and now I’m a tourist with no sandals, so that’s not improving my mental status. In addition to which, every shoe shop sells exactly the same shoes. It’s perplexing that any of them make any money at all.

Mum and Dad went to Pisa and Florence, where mum hated taking the buggy over the cobbles and was apparently not too unhappy when it ran out of battery. She had already been tipped into the gutter by falling off a kerb, so once the battery was gone, they were more than happy to leave it with the excursions people and do the rest by taxi.  I had made a list of the Must Sees, and they did all those, bar the Ponte Vecchio, so no one was disappointed with their day. Mind you, they were pretty shattered by the time they got back!

Note to self: do not go away when a friend is in the process of moving house. You don’t know which address to send the postcards to!

I seem to be just wittering now, so I’ll call it a night, I think. Tomorrow: Monaco.

Day Seven – Sunday 15^th November – Ajaccio

Woken at 9.30 by an announcement. Watched Paddington and half of Frozen (up to and including Fixer Upper, which is my favourite song) before we met up and went ashore. Warm, sunny day in Corsica. Wandered around Ajaccio (pronunciation apparently ajaxio) which, being a Sunday in France, was, as I predicted, mostly shut. And that was before we knew it would be a day of national mourning. Corsica and Ajaccio in particular are obsessed with Napoleon, because this is where he was born.  He’s EVERYWHERE.

We found two markets, one big, one little, near the port which sold little of interest to us – mostly food and a few really ugly shoulder bags (well, I say near the port – it’s all ‘near the port’. The whole town is basically three roads that run parallel to the water – two pedestrian, one with cars – with a square at one end that has a statue of Napoleon dressed in a toga (why in a toga? Because he fancied himself as a classical god)). The girl who gave the port talk on the ship had no idea that the guy in the toga even was Napoleon. It’s pathetic. Granted, it’s not the attire he is usually associated with, but if you’re giving a talk on a place to others, could you not have done even the most meagre modicum of research – like maybe even reading the port guide provided by your own company?! Grrrr.

Got conned in a café (the Café Latin, if you want to protect your wallet on a visit here) – we ordered small hot chocolates, got billed for large – which was a shame, because we were thinking of stopping there for lunch. Good thing though, because, thanks to their grasping dishonesty, we found somewhere much nicer further on.  Le Mimo on the Rue Fesch is a little restaurant with the nicest owner ever. He was all on his own, so he was limiting his menu, so that he could still run around after customers and cook at the same time, but he did us the nicest steak and chips I can recall having in a very long time – two between the three of us worked quite well. And I think the chips were done with sweet potatoes. Lovely.

We pootled around the town and found not one, but two clothes shops that were open, so we shopped in both, as a thank you for bothering to open for us. And mum took the buggy up a very steep hill, as a sort of test drive. She shot up there, no problems. But we couldn’t climb it fast enough to keep up with her, so she had to wait for us at the top! And then back onto the ship at about 2. Absolutely shattered. My glutening has seriously affected my stamina and pain levels, so I am capable of even less than usual. Went for a nap and slept for THREE hours straight, this time. Barely up and in my right mind in time for supper!

Had a bit of a todo at dinner. We arrive at 6.30 and are supposed to be out by 8, so that we can get to our evening activities, and they can reset for second sitting. At five past seven, we had eaten nothing and the table next to us was being served their main course. There are two starter courses possible, with a soup course between the starter and main, so they were THREE courses ahead of us. Even Dad was getting angry. Lots of grovelling apologies and some half-baked excuses later, we got some food, and were finished by ten past eight, but we had to get really cross first.

Helped Dad plan their day in Florence tomorrow while mum went to a classical music thing. Although this was quite tricky, because the port guide did not contain a map – feel free to read that again – the port guide did not contain a map, and Reception could not have cared less. Usually Reception provides maps when they are missing, so we were quite surprised by their apathy. But we are a resourceful bunch. So we went to the library and the librarian photocopied the map from the Rough Guide to Florence for us. Pitiful that that is necessary, but there you go.

Made a complaint at reception about holding a noisy sailaway deck party when leaving a country in national mourning. Talk about crass. Apparently no one went, but the party would have gone ahead anyway, and I’m sure they heard us, nonetheless – they make those parties as loud as possible. Mortifying.

Lost the quiz on a three-way tie-breaker. We were two years out. One team was spot on. Good. No brass polish to drink, but nice to come that close.  Had a late night snack and drink with Gary (cabbie), Cheryl (?) and Ross (NHS24 doctor). Family at the next table with a very little girl – maybe two or three years old – shouting very loudly. Shouldn’t really have still been up at half midnight, in my opinion. We were particularly entertained when she used the phrase “Bloody Nora”, and in the correct way/context, too. Shouldn’t laugh really, but it really was quite funny. And then an early night, ready for port day 2 of 5 tomorrow. Livorno/Pisa/Lucca/Florence.

Day Six – Saturday 14^th November – Sea Day

Woke to the story of the attacks in Paris. There are no words for the level of sadness I feel. Did nothing all day. Just wandered around, talking to people, asking why people do things like this to each other.

Yesterday, I managed to accidentally gluten myself. So I had an interesting night, but for completely different reasons.

Black and white formal night. Saddened, as usual, at the number of women on board who think that black and white means red or bright blue or whatever other colour they feel like wearing. It’s such a simple request. Who doesn’t own a black dress, for pity’s sake?!

Not in the best of moods.

Day Five – Friday 13^th November – Gibraltar

Hideously early start. And I mean hideous. I’m supposed to be on holiday! Went ashore without problem (this, in itself, is quite noteworthy for P&O!). The man selling tickets for the little minibus shuttle service into town said they were quite happy to take the buggy, until you mentioned it to the actual driver, and then he got all sullen and stroppy. When we said we would lift it into the boot, he just got his mate and did it for us, so why he felt the need to be so negative about it first, I am not sure.

Anyway, we love Gib, and would much rather have had a whole day, rather than a lunchtime departure. P&O are so stupid and thoughtless sometimes. Bought two evening dresses in BHS and a bolero and some soft but smart trousers in Bon Marche and pootled some other shops. Mum bought a lot of makeup. Gib is entirely tax-free, so some things are significantly cheaper here. Unleaded petrol is 85p a litre and diesel is even cheaper. Needless to say, the ship bunkered here! Then we had to head back to the ship – no time for even a coffee. Such a shame. I wish P&O would give us longer here, it’s not fair on them or us.

I was surprised at the amount of Spanish I heard being spoken in Gib. I assumed that, being so trenchantly British, and what with all the Spanish politicking, everyone would speak English, but apparently you have to be bilingual here. 7000 Spaniards a day cross the border to come to work here (and go back again at night), so they even have traffic jams here too.

Nice to see a proper policeman with a proper helmet on his head, and red post boxes and so on. It’s a little taste of Britain, but with WAY better weather. 20 in the shade and a warm breeze. Very pleasant.

Was so shattered when we got back though, that I could barely chew my lunch. Went for a nap. Two hours later…!

Then minor chores like hanging up new clothes, writing postcards, a bit of work, etc. til it was time to meet for dinner.

Tomorrow is the last restful day for a while. After that, I think it goes:

Sunday: Ajaccio

Monday: Livorno (Florence/Pisa/Lucca)

Tuesday: Monte Carlo/Nice

Wednesday: Barcelona

Thursday: Cartagena

By the time we get through that lot, I imagine most of us will be way too shattered to do much but sleep all the way back to Southampton!

Luckily for me/us, Barcelona and Cartagena will be fairly relaxed, because we have been to both before, so we don’t feel the need to rush around ‘doing’ stuff. But even so, who thought five port days in a row was a good idea?! Usually you can knock me down with a feather after three. Five, I dread to think.

Come to think of it, Ajaccio is Corsica, which is France, and we are there on a Sunday, so chances are, most stuff will be shut anyway, so that won’t be a busy day, I wouldn’t imagine. There will probably be a market and a coffee, but that’s probably about it. I haven’t researched it in detail, but that would be my guess. That list still makes me tired just looking at it though!

We won the quiz tonight, which was nice.

Day Four – Thursday 12^th November – Sea Day

No idea where today went. There was lunch and I did some work and there may have been a nap and that’s about it. It doesn’t take long to settle into the rhythm of things! Ship is still a little rocky, but no one is being ill any more – it’s not that bad. Clear skies and calm seas. We passed Aurora going the other way today – on her way back to Southampton. We would have done a communal wave, but the bridge didn’t bother to mention it until we had gone well past, so they wouldn’t have seen us. Shame, really, we normally always wave to other cruise ships (after playing guess the ship, based on funnels and decoration). I was right in guessing Aurora, so had a few seconds of smug to enjoy.

Formal night again. Managed to wear the same dress, because the new people at our table hadn’t seen it the first time!

After dinner, went to see Jon the comedian’s second show. Actually, very enjoyable. He is a superb piano player and some of his songs were loud out loud hilarious. He has one for people who arrive late to a show, which is particularly gigglesome.

Then the quiz – joint third today – and then a drink with Ross in the “nightclub”. I’m getting the impression the DJ doesn’t like his job, because he just played what he felt like, and wasn’t in the least bit interested in whether the passengers were enjoying it or not. Ross is a fun person to chat to, mind you. But I might remind him to buy his girlfriend a present, as I don’t think he has yet. Having left her at home, I think he owes her something!

On the way to my cabin, I had to look out the window. The ship was so still, I had to check we were still moving. We were.

Woke in the night to the lovely, haunting wail of the fog horn, so that explains that then (mist and fog and rain “hold down” the sea, so if there is little enough wind for fog and mist to form, the sea is usually very still indeed).

Tomorrow: Gibraltar.

Day Three – Wednesday 11^th November – A Coruna

Or, as P&O insist on calling it, for some reason, La Coruna. Known as the Crystal City because of the style of balconies on nearly every building, all enclosed in little framed windows.  It’s like looking at a hundred vertical greenhouses, all side by side. Odd, but not unattractive.

Nearest port to Santiago de Compostela, the third most important pilgrimage site for Christians – burial place of the disciple, James (and home to the world’s longest censer). Or, as the P&O put it, “one of the top three” pilgrimage sites, which doesn’t mean quite the same thing! Gorgeously warm, sunny day with blue skies and no breeze whatsoever. Pootled into town with mum on the new buggy creating just a little bit of havoc wherever she went.

We had coffee in a beautiful square in the old town, opposite the rather ornate town hall, stood for the two minutes silence, and then wandered the shops. We ate our lunch at the NH Hotel Atlantico (no idea what chain NH is part of, or what it stands for). They had a buffet laid out – you’ll see the photos when I have a chance to upload them (not happening at 20p a minute- sorry) – you could have fed the five thousand, no problem. Long time since I’ve seen that much food all laid out on a row of tables.

They explained the gluten-free options to me very carefully, and I had steak paella with salad and fresh fruit for dessert. They also had a small portion of orange jelly with chocolate sauce, which was seriously yummy.  And all the fruit juice, wine and soft drinks you could wish for included in the price. I don’t know how many stars that hotel had, but even the loos were stunning. I was very impressed. It had looked so unimpressive from the outside!

In other news, I appear to have done a minor mischief to my right shoulder – probably during yoga yesterday – which means that pulling the buggy is a less than enjoyable experience. But a nice steward carried it back up the gangplank, and a big, strong man at the hotel carried it up and down the steps there for me, so I haven’t had to do nearly as much as I feared. Hopefully said ache will have worn off by the time we get to Gibraltar. Might need a massage tomorrow. I’ll see how it is in the morning. Weather forecast for tomorrow: 20 degrees and sunny. We are still moving about a bit now, though. Hopefully things will calm down once we turn left.

New people on our table at dinner.

Eddie and Mary from Warrington (originally Scotland)

and Cath and Richard from Paignton in Devon, but who used to live in France.

Very nice, all. Eddie and Mary speak very quietly, but we all got along quite well. They all said they would come back tomorrow, which is very flattering for us, because it hasn’t happened yet! Eddie’s steak order was a disaster, and mum’s egg mayonnaise waited a long time for the unification of egg and mayonnaise to occur (they were not delivered together), but other than that, the food orders went quite well, and everyone seemed to enjoy their food. So far, so good.

Day Two- Tuesday 10^th November – Sea Day

Woke to find my room toasty warm. Not suffocatingly hot, just right. Good thing too, because it’s a bit blowy out, still, and so it’s nice to have somewhere warm to come back to. This became especially important after dinner. Black tie/formal, so open toes shoes and pretty dress. Now, it turns out, that the Arctic destination of the day is… The restaurant. It was so cold that by the time the main course arrived, I could not feel my toes any more. I only knew they were still there, because when I wiggled them to try and maintain the circulation, I could feel them bumping into the edge of the shoe. Had to have another cup of tea, just for warmth.

After lunch today, Dad and I explored the ship. Stuff is at the wrong end compared to every other ship I have ever been on! The cafeteria/self service restaurant is at the front and the spa is at the back (next to the Kids Club – hardly relaxing!). All very confusing indeed. Going to get a bit lost on this cruise, I think.  We calculated later that we had walked about a mile and a half all told.

Then I went to yoga. I usually do Hatha, this was Ashtanga. This teacher was OBSESSED with downward dog and the plank and managed to get them into virtually every manoeuvre.  As far as I can tell, the proponents of this particular style had knees made of iron. I’m not used to doing so many poses on my knees, and I had to skip some bits, because I was in too much pain. Even his choice of “rest position” was a kneel! When I commented on the knee thing, he told me to go to Pilates instead. Charming. If your mats were perhaps slightly thicker than toilet paper, that might help, dear. Oh well, I tried. Might go to Pilates on the next sea day, but on port days, they do this stuff REALLY early in the morning, so that won’t be happening tomorrow, that’s for sure.

Gluten-free food is proving to be a bit of an issue on this cruise. When I asked for hot food options at lunchtime, I was told I could have – guess what? A jacket potato. That’s it. All the other options and everything cooked fresh to order, and that’s all they could be bothered to offer. When I kicked up a bit of stink (having first served myself some cold meat and salad, so I didn’t starve), the head waiter brought me a plate of boiled fish and boiled veg. I pointed out this was a luxury cruise ship, not a hospital (!), and that, not only should I be able to choose for myself, but they should make much more of an effort to make their food edible for everyone.  Eventually, they found some berries and cream and bunged a meringue on the top. I mushed it up myself. How much effort would it have taken for them to mash it up and then present it as an Eton Mess they had made for me specially? Seriously missed Brownie Points opportunity, there. Very nice, though.

Then, for some reason, they realised they had gluten-free bread and brought me a piece. No butter, no knife, just this lump on a plate. It bounced. If you pressed it, it rebounded. And when you tore it open, it was so rubbery, it closed itself again when you let go. It looked like a dumpling that had been lost in transit and it was very wet and rubbery. It, sadly, but perhaps not unsurprisingly, did not get eaten. I’m not THAT desperate for sustenance.

Talking of food, the evening dining room is fast turning into a farce of epic proportions. Last night, we met some lovely ladies, U3A friends on holiday together. We had a table for 8. There are three of us and six of them. One of them was put on another table! No, really. Isn’t that ridiculous?! She came and sat with us after dessert. They were lovely and we all got on very well. Today, they laid our table for nine, so she could join us. It would have been a squeeze, but not insurmountable. But they were then moved to another table for six of their own. Which left the three of us sat at a table laid for nine, looking like right Billy-No-Mates.

They then managed to get every single course of our pre-ordered meals wrong.  They fixed my starter without problems, but then brought mum’s main with red cabbage and onion coleslaw, which in no way resembled the green salad she had requested. When it finally did come, the lettuce looked so tired, I nearly made a bed up for it.

Then, to top it all off, they brought her a treacle sponge with no treacle on it. After a while, you can’t complain any more. You just look silly. But mum is on such a limited diet at the moment, because of her current gout attack, it’s hard enough to find her food she can and will eat as it is, without them then buggering up the order as well. And all the while, we froze. Although, on the plus side, I got a gluten-free roll that didn’t fight back, so that was nice.

After dinner, went back to my (now nice and warm) cabin to defrost. Then up to the quiz. Mum and Dad and I had Barbara and Terry on our table. We came second. Which is the best place to come, because the one thing you do not want is to actually win the brass polish that is passed off for P&O own label wine – be it red, white or fizz. My drains are not currently blocked, thanks for asking. Dad said it’s okay if you add enough lemonade. I made a comment about homeopathic ratios…

Oh, did I mention the ship is still moving about quite a bit, and someone threw up at my feet at lunchtime? No? Well, she did. Missed my shoes by luck, not judgement. Yes, and bon appétit to you too.

I went to the nightclub at midnight. You know it’s not going to be scintillating when the lights are up from the outset. Met two nice guys – Jon, a comedian whose show I had missed (he was very nice about it!) and Ross, an Out of Hours doctor, who had some fascinating tales to tell. We chatted til 2 and then called it a night. Early start tomorrow – port day.