Day One – Monday 9^th November – embarkation

Well, loading the car was fun. Dad managed to not only bang a suitcase into my most painful arthritic knuckle, but then gouge out a line of skin all the way down the finger. It’s still sore ten hours later. But the drive down was uneventful enough. Not much gluten-free at Fleet Services, so I had a very expensive salad from Tossed, which whilst exceedingly yummy, it must be admitted, did not in any way warrant relieving me of a tenner.

When we arrived, they sat us in the disabled waiting area and ignored us for the best part of an hour. When someone else was talking about their loyalty level, the co-ordinator suddenly decided to point out that if we were such a level, we had priority boarding and did not have to sit around for hours. We were very angry that that had not been mentioned to us, foolishly assuming that all disabled passengers were treated the same (ie. equally badly). Turns out not, but by this time we had already waited so long (just under an hour), it was our turn anyway. When we remonstrated with the bloke that he should have said this at the outset, he yelled at us for not waltzing in and demanding special treatment ourselves. Nasty little man. Our ‘pusher’ said later that it was his first day promoted to a supervisory role, and he wasn’t really coping. Can’t argue with that. But, even so, actively yelling at the customers seems a bit off.

*UPDATE: 23/11/15. Yesterday met a lady who had the opposite problem. She wanted to use her priority boarding for her disabled mother, but was told she couldn’t! Someone needs to get their story straight, methinks. Coincidentally, today I also found the following at cruise.co.uk -an in-depth look at P&O’s new check-in system. You may not be entirely startled by the contents, after reading the above.**

So onto a new ship. Eventually. Well, not new, decidedly old, judging by the rust around the windows! But new to us. Oceana. Pleasant enough. A bit seventies on the décor (lots of white melamine with dark wood edging and wall lights), but the staff, when they are around, are quite pleasant.

Everything was late today. Even muster was delayed because two of the coaches were late coming in, so we were eighty passengers short. They’ve changed the muster script ever so slightly, so that even the hardened cruisers have something new to listen to. Such excitements we have, you have no clue.

My cabin is okay, but for two main flaws. 1. There are no bedside tables. This could make life interesting. And 2. It’s frigging ARCTIC in here. In fact the whole ship is bloomin’ freezing. We were all shivering at dinner. My room thermostat is up to its warmest setting, but there is still a constant cold breeze across my face and fingers. I’m sitting here typing this with my coat on. My nose is numb.

Weather-wise, we are moving about a bit. Force 6 winds, I think he said. She’s a bit creaky, but other than that, she’s coping well. Just a bit of side to side movement.  Barely enough movement in the water glasses at dinner to qualify as a Jurassic Park reference.

*UPDATE: 23/11/15. Found out towards the end of the cruise that Oceana has a flat bottom. Like Artemis did. Remember her? The one I described variously as “never seeing a wave she didn’t stop and say hello to” and “bobbing around like a cork”? Yes, same design here. Spiffing.**

No, it’s the cold that is really getting to me. I may have to go to bed early, just to get warm.

P.S. I was so desperate for warmth, I went to Costa and got a decaff tea. A hot drink. Me. Yes, exactly. Must remember to demand my money back in the morning from Reception. I’m pretty sure the cost of this cruise should include protection from hypothermia! Steward brought extra duvets an hour and a half after I first complained (there were two further calls in between those two events).

Up at 6. No, correction, up and DRESSED by six. Went and had a proper breakfast and then waited for mum and dad in the public room allocated to us (you get kicked out of your cabin by the steward at 8, as they have to clean them all before the next lot start boarding at noon). Got off and walked to the car. This is a shame. They used to bring the car to us. Cost cutting, P&O. Tut, tut. Found it was completely covered in sand! Must have had some interesting weather in Portsmouth in our absence. Drove home and then I unpacked the car and then crashed. I think we all dozed off, in fact. The unpacking still awaits, but, for now, we are just re-adjusting, reading the post and trying to stop our inner ears from swaying. Next cruise: August. Bye for now.

Went to Reception at 11am. Manager called Rowell came to my cabin to see the damage and then shouted at me so much, I threw him out of my cabin. When I said it was P&O that caused the damage, he said, it wasn’t, it was the Southampton Stevedores. Well, my contract is with P&O and I handed my luggage to them. If they outsourced the heavy lifting, that’s their problem, not mine. He then said that, even if it could be fixed, there was no time. I pointed out that I reported the problem and got ignored for the best part of 24 hours, so any shortage of time was hardly my fault either. After I went back to Reception and made a complaint about his behaviour, I was offered £25 in On Board Credit to compensate for the suitcase damage and the damaged top was completely forgotten. How is OBC any use?! They don’t sell suitcases on board! Agreed to meet the Customer Services Manager at 4pm to discuss properly.

Dad came with me. Phillip Holmes, CSM was quite pleasant. He agreed £15 for the ruined top and £25 for the case and said that Southampton would send me a cheque, but it might take a few weeks. He said he could not write one, no one on board can, and neither can he allocate OBC to be used on another ship (i.e. the cruise we are booked on for later in the year). So, we will wait. But at least now I have an answer, rather than the back and forth of yes it can be repaired, no it can’t nonsense we have had until now. Although, frankly, I am no clearer as to whether it can be repaired or not!

Then a nap and then packing – first helping Mum and Dad with lifting their cases once full, and then Dad came to supervise my packing (well, actually to give mum some peace to finish her library book before dinner!).

The sun shone today, so I did as much sitting on deck reading as I had time for. There were people proper sunbathing today. We must be getting close to the high that is giving the UK its heatwave. It was very pleasant on deck, with barely a breath of wind. A lovely way to end a very enjoyable cruise. I will add photos to all the recent entries when I get home – I’m not paying 20p a minute to upload jpegs, sorry!

And the winner of the Film with the Worst Sound Balance in Human History goes to… Belle. Good grief. I had to variously alter the volume from 27, to hear the whispered confidences, right down to 8, when the music completely drowned out the dialogue, so as not to get lynched by my neighbours. Thank goodness they were still awake/ slamming drawers/ packing, otherwise I could have been on the end of a right old talking to. A nice enough film, with plenty of heaving bosoms in tight but exquisite period dresses and dirty, impoverished, noisy souls to drive past whilst looking shocked. A bit like Les Mis but without the music. And much more earnest. With a strident anti-slavery message that was almost certainly lacking in the real life events on which it was so very loosely based.  The script was also clearly written by someone with absolutely no knowledge of the law and its maxims, because there were some lovely ones that could have been used, had the writer had the faintest idea what they were talking about. Shame, that.  Oh well, never mind. At least the boy got the girl and the girl got the boy, and the murderers lost their court case, so all’s well that ends well and all that.

I don’t like Dublin. When we arrived, it was raining. This on its own would not bother me. When we went ashore, the first thing that happened was that the shuttle bus drove past us and refused to pick us up.  The excuse we were given was that the driver was on his lunch break. I remain unconvinced. Once in town, we were assailed by beggars, shop staff who don’t listen to a word you say, or care much that you were there at all, and cafes that offer gluten free or decaff but just happen to have sold out right now. Finally found a decent cafe with lovely food, that DID have gluten free AND decaff, at which point the sun duly came out and shone on us for a short while. I was grumpy all day with a bad mood I couldn’t shake. I don’t like big cities at the best of times, they are noisy and smelly and horrid, but I felt we weren’t particularly welcome in Dublin, which did not help one jot.

I don’t recall if I mentioned, but P&O busted the foot off my suitcase and glued/bolted it back on when we boarded. When packing yesterday, I realised they have also smashed the ring on the zip that you pass the padlock through. Getting them to give a tinker’s cuss has taken all my energy today and I imagine the saga will continue tomorrow. They think I should have to unpack the whole thing and re-pack it when they’ve got round to doing another ugly bodge job. Yeah, like I’ve got nothing else to do with my holiday time except unpack and repack whenever you feel like I should. Thanks a bunch. Needless to say, the grumpy mood persists.

After dinner, I went back to reception and kicked up a bit of a stink. I got back the top that had been damaged by the door. The seamstress has done her best, but the material is now puckered where she has simply drawn the sides of the hole together and, as it is cotton jersey, it looks pretty ugly. They said they will ask their manager tomorrow about compensation. It’s not particularly valuable. It’s F&F at Tesco. But I should be able to come on a cruise without having holes punched in my clothes and, potentially, in me as well.

The suitcase issue rumbles on. The man at the counter said he had a message saying the case was irreparable. Then his manager, Jennie, came out and said she had been told it WAS fixable. I laughed in her face. That’s two answers to the same question in under ten minutes. Nothing farcical about that whatsoever.  We agreed to talk tomorrow, which will give her time to speak to her manager and the repair man herself and clarify the situation.

Woke about 9.30 and decided to pack. I hate having this chore hanging over me so I like to get it done so I don’t have to think about it anymore. I didn’t bring much with me, so it didn’t take long! Short cruises really are a whole different ballgame to long ones. I only have one case with me on this one. Remember, on the African and Asian Odyssey we had 19 pieces of luggage between us! This is a breeze by comparison!

Talking of breezes, today is the first day of this holiday that has really felt like a ‘normal’ cruise. The sea is flat as the proverbial Shrove Tuesday fare, the pools are open and the sun is shining. It may not be exactly cossies and suncream weather, but people are out and about on deck, sleeping in the sun, albeit in cardigans. There is always a breeze on deck, due to the movement of the vessel, so it has to be really hot to be considered outright balmy. It is, however, quite warm, bordering on full-blown hot in the direct sunlight, especially when the breeze drops. Some people even have their legs out. Personally, I think that’s pushing it a bit, but each to their own.

It would appear that the trick is to open up your sunlounger of choice, allowing the accumulated rain of Scotland to drain out of the various channels, nooks and crannies. Then you add your sun towel from your cabin – everyone gets one – and then you lie down, fully clothed, and fall asleep. It all looks quite blissful.

Despite a stiff neck from reading in bed last night, I feel pretty good today. Better than I have for a while. Of course, now that I am fully relaxed and in holiday mode, it is time to go home. THAT’s the drawback of a short cruise. Just as you get going, it’s time to stop. I have a hankering for a long one. I think I will devote lunch to trying to convince Mum and Dad of the same thing. Time to settle in for a long one.

Apart from anything else, I have had barely any time at all to sit and gaze at the water on this trip. Today, the sea is a sort of turquoisey-green colour. Similar perhaps to the colour of an empty wine bottle where the sunlight hits it. Not dark, bottle green, but a cloudier, lighter one. It’s a colour you don’t see anywhere else, I don’t think, so it’s hard to think of a comparator.  The best I can come up with is the green of the leaves on a rose – bluey-green – but slightly lighter. It is so green and far from blue, in fact, that the foam kicked up by our passage is actually a yellowy-cream against it, and pale green as it sinks. Very little proper white to be seen. But the constant motion and activity remains as hypnotic as ever.

Having finished the Terry Pratchett book and returned it to the library, last night I went back to the book I had brought with me in the first place. ‘On the Map’ by Simon Garfield, who also wrote the last book I read that I truly loved, which was ‘Just my Type’. The latter was a history of fonts and typefaces and was endlessly fascinating from start to finish. ‘On the Map’ gives the same treatment to the history of mapmakers around the world. It, too, is a ridiculously enjoyable read.  Did you know, for example, that it used to be customary to put East at the top of the page, i.e. Jerusalem, and so that’s where the word ‘orientate’ comes from? Any amount of neck stiffness is worth it for this book. I was only prepared to put it down last night after I fell asleep and dropped it onto my nose.

After lunch, mum went to a concert and dad and I went to the Future Cruises desk to discuss long cruises. Then we went out on deck and had a Classic Magnum each. I had, by now, changed my top, because the door to the toilets had gouged a hole in the one I was wearing earlier, so I had to hand it in to Reception to be mended. Although the sun had gone in, it was still quite pleasant in our little corner, out of the wind.

It’s not often I laugh out loud while watching the news. A Greek minister (Administrative Affairs apparently, whatever that means) has just said, with a completely straight face, that “Our banks are not insolvent. There is no solvency issue. It is an issue of liquidity which could be easily solved if the ECB just gave us more money”.

Last formal tonight. I went with a simple black long jersey dress with nice jewellery (bracelet and necklace from my friend, Angie; new watch from the sale held in the onboard shop yesterday). Others really pulled out the stops. Saw some really beautiful dresses tonight. I didn’t have much time, because dad left me asleep in Andersons (bar designed to look like a private club – all wingback chairs and dark wood and QUIET) and I didn’t wake til 5.30. I was supposed to be at a drinks do at 6! You’ve never seen me shower and dress so fast. Have to go to the drinks receptions, when they occur. It’s the only time you get a free drink! After dinner, we sat and planned tomorrow (Dublin) and then went our separate ways – me back to my book, mum and dad off to their quiz.

Kirkwall is the capital of the Orkneys and has around 9,000 residents. It was founded by the Vikings in 1035 exactly, apparently.  This was the only early start on the whole cruise and dressed and on the quayside by 9.30 doesn’t sound that early, but it definitely feels it.  Our guide and driver, Brian and Brian, were very knowledgeable and plied us with information all the way to Skara Brae. Brian the guide then showed us around and was still quite knowledgeable, although hampered by having to answer “No one knows” to some of the questions! Skara Brae was found by a landowner and the second part of the tour was a visit to the big house, but Dad and I decided to give it a miss and head back to the shop/toilet/cafe instead, via the reconstruction of what a complete Skara Brae house would have been like to go inside.  I was bent almost double to get through the entrance passage. Dad cheated and went around and met me at the other doorway! People we spoke to later said they wished they had skipped the big house as well, as they had no time for shopping or hot chocolate, both of which they felt they very much needed!

We were, I might add, pretty drenched by this time. Although the drizzle was a mere mizzle to start, it got steadily heavier as the tour progressed, and the wind picked up too, so by the time we made it into the visitor centre after our tour, we were fairly sodden. We dried out a bit and attacked the shop with a vengeance. Unfortunately, I had accidentally left my wallet in the coach, which meant Dad had to pay. Oops. Then we were taken on a tour of two sets of standing stones, which together with a barrow we didn’t have time for, make up the four parts of the UNESCO World Heritage Site here, with Skara Brae forming the backbone, obviously.  Possibly the best preserved Neolithic village in the world is deserving of some kudos.

We got back to the ship bang on time and went up for a hasty bite to eat before heading into town again. Mum joined us after her excursion and we went down the (spot the theme of the cruise) one shopping street in the town (Albert Street, in case you’re ever here). I realised when I got to the till in Boots that I had euros on me, not sterling! Oops again.

My cheeks are tingling. I think I have a little wind burn again. It definitely ain’t sunburn today. Yesterday it might have been, but even when it stopped raining here (which, to be fair, it did, a few times), the wind kept going full pelt. Like I said before, humans choose to live in some really stupid places.  It might be very pleasant when the sun shines and the wind drops, but, then again. I liked it, because I’m a fan of little towns, but Mum and Dad have developed a passionate dislike of the wind, so this was not a good day for them!

Am definitely in need of a sea day tomorrow. I’m pretty pooped, and think the parents are too.

What an absolutely lovely little town. A bit hilly, but the glorious warm sunshine took the edge off of that. Friendly people and pretty buildings. Shame nothing opened until 11.30 except one hotel cafe and one rather expensive clothes shop. Here, virtually all the shops seem to sell postcards and fridge magnets, so we bought ours in the rather expensive clothes shop. So expensive, they didn’t put prices on things. You know the sort. If you have to ask, you can’t afford it. I’ve never been in a shop with no prices before. It’s weird.

Torshavn (Thor’s harbour) actually has two harbours, separated by a small but very hilly spit of land. This is where they decided to settle. Humans really are a bit mental sometimes. The old town, therefore, is a collection of wooden buildings, all painted the same burgundy-ish colour, with ground floors built of stone, and grass roofs. It’s ridiculously pretty.

It is apparently one of the smallest capital cities in the world, with a population of around 19,000. Allegedly. I doubt it, to be honest. It’s pretty small. If you want to find it on a map, there are 18 Faroe Islands and Torshavn is on Streymoy. The Faroes were settled by, in roughly chronological order: Irish monks, Vikings, Norway, Denmark, Britain (during the war) and now they are a self-governing overseas territory of Denmark.

So, anyway, we did what we do. We pootled up the one street of shops, we ate in a cafe (and observed the minute’s silence  for Tunisia there), we pootled some more. We visited the touristy shops and marvelled at the prices. We noticed that all the doorsteps are up and over ones – even at the top of the hill. Flooding worries? Thresholds? Or just habit?

The official Tourist Information office in town is also a bookshop and sells stationery and office supplies, as well as the obligatory postcards and tourist items. A school bag cost about eighty quid and a Frozen pencil case is twenty-five quid. But up the road, in the cafe of the public library, a large freshly squeezed orange juice was two pound fifty. There is no logic that I can see to the prices here. T-shirts can vary between nine quid and sixteen quid, which seems a very large gap for the same product 500 yards away. Still, with weather this nice and a town this pretty and friendly, nothing really matters much.

Dad asked how they mow the roofs and the answer was, you climb up a ladder and strim it. So now you know. We had speculated on the possible use of goats or sheep, but apparently not. The humans do it themselves.

Because it was quite hilly, we had to stop quite a few times. Joyfully, this is a town that understands not only the concept of free wifi (including in the taxi?!) but also the importance of the Bench and provides them every few hundred yards. Marvellous. Mum and I did much basking in the sun while Dad went and explored on his own (whilst ostensibly looking for eateries). We ended up by the marina, gazing at the boats and drinking more freshly squeezed orange juice (where do they get all their oranges from?!).

My personal high point was the abundance of public art all over the place, which, as you know, I am very passionate about. The thinking here seems to be “We haven’t had a bench for about 200 yards, let’s put one here. And let’s stick in a sculpture for good measure”. Birds – flying and wading, people, naked dancers, busts of important folk, replica Viking boats, settlers lugging stuff about, even a giant bench. Remember this is a town with a central area consisting of one street (on a hill) between two marinas with bars around the edge. That’s it. That’s quite a lot of public art for such a small space. Even some of the shops had sculptures in! In fact, the roundabout at the top end of the pedestrian precinct had a sculpture in the middle and a stone bench all the way around.  It was odd having cars passing you every few seconds, but it was still a surprisingly pleasant place to stop and sit.

Back on board, there was a smell of engine fumes in my cabin.  I reported it three times over the space of an hour before anyone came to investigate (other than a deck supervisor with, apparently, no sense of smell!). When I got back after dinner, the room now smells of strawberries. I’m going to call this an improvement, as I don’t think the smell of strawberries can be considered poisonous, whereas exhaust fumes almost certainly can, but it’s a very odd smell to have permeating my bedroom, just the same! The question is, is it masking the fumes or replacing them? And I am saddened that it takes three separate calls to get action on something so potentially serious. After all, I have an internal cabin. I have no other source of air other than the air con. If that is spewing carbon monoxide and/or dioxide into my cabin, it could, conceivably, kill me if left unattended for long enough.  I would have expected it to be taken a lot more seriously than it was. Definitely worth a mention in the end of cruise customer satisfaction survey. Can’t allow that kind of lackadaisical attitude go uncommented.

Dad and I then had to organise tomorrow (Kirkwall in the Orkneys), as he and I are going on an excursion to Skara Brae, whilst mum is going on a different one to look for sea birds. The logistics are surprisingly messy.  I think we have it sorted now, but I have a horribly early start to look forward to.

Film update: Saving Mr Banks. Delightful. Funny, sad, shed a tear and clapped. Quite the emotional rollercoaster, but very enjoyable. The time passed very quickly indeed.

My massage therapist, Shona, is very pleased with my progress. There is almost no yelping now from me when she works on my upper or lower back.  Today I had that special offer thing I mentioned, which lasted an hour and a half in total. And, yes, during the scalp massage, I did fall asleep. Which is a compliment to the masseur. Woke this morning after about eleven hours sleep, on and off, and went to lunch alone – Mum and Dad had a special meal for their loyalty points tier.  Feeling very rested and a bit more human. Then my massage, and now it’s time to get ready for a formal night. Busy, busy, busy.

Black and white night tonight. It’s always interesting to see how many women are either unwilling or unable to follow the dress code on a theme night. It’s not like they don’t know in advance. We are always told about theme nights weeks before departure. It’s just cussedness that causes them to rebel. But I don’t think it is a positive rebellion. It’s not cool to rebel against the rules in this instance. It’s just rude. It’s saying to everyone else, you can do what you’re told, but we’re not going to. We’re going to spoil the photos and aesthetic effect for everyone because we are so desperate for attention that even disapproving glares will do. There is no gain to this rebellion. Rebel against important stuff, by all means – sexism, homophobia, racism, prejudice. Fight against the status quo if it has a positive benefit to society. But wearing red or blue on Black and White night just makes you look like a petulant child, stamping your foot because you’re being told which dress to wear to the party.

There is currently a fascinatingly racist woman on BBC World, talking about the Saudi prince’s promise to give away all his money.  I think they said she is Lebanese and allegedly knows the Saudi prince personally. She keeps spouting anti-West and anti-Christian racist nonsense. First she said that Islamic charitable giving is more complicated than Christian giving and amounts to 3% which is much more than Christianity requires. As I recall, the Jewish and Christian tithe is 10%, and it isn’t just cash but also goods, i.e. a portion of your crop if you are a farmer, which she was claiming as a purely Muslim idea.  Then she said that it was even more complicated in Ramadan. I don’t think it is. It’s more important, but it doesn’t get more complicated – at least not that I know of.  And then she said that because Saudis pay no tax, when they give, they give from the heart, whereas Westerners only give for tax reasons. What a load of (very offensive) twaddle. I have no idea what her name is, but if anyone said stuff that denigrating about Islam or Saudi and Lebanese citizens that she is saying about Westerners and Christians, all hell would break loose. Racism works all ways, people.

Okay. Now I am officially angry. Really, steamingly angry. I have been deliberately swindled out of a VAT refund on my purchases by a bitch with a serious attitude problem. In her shop, I spent just shy of 5,000 krona – about 25 quid. I asked for a tax receipt so I could claim back my VAT. She REFUSED, because she said the minimum was 6,000 kr, although I was sure it was 4,000. When I get back on board, turns out, it is ANY amount, but you MUST have the special tax receipt. Never mind that you have to fill in your name address, passport number and credit card details on every single one you claim, that’s just stupid bureaucracy. But that bitch has denied me my refund, and I will be writing to the embassy in London to express my disgust at allowing such appalling treatment of visitors to this, otherwise lovely, country.

That aside, Akureyri is a funny place. It’s a big town, with a university, but it still only has one main street of shops, so it might as well be as small as Isafjordur. Stuff is about one third cheaper here today than it was yesterday. It mizzled all day. Basically a cloud was sitting over the town. You couldn’t see the tops of the mountains. But at least there was no wind cutting through you like a light saber like we had yesterday. We pootled, we shopped, we ate, we drank, we took photos, we bought souvenirs (and got conned in the process as above). Then mum and dad went back to the ship and I settled down in a hotel with a drink and a plate of nibbles to use their free wifi for a bit. Bob was 4.30, so we will be setting off any minute now, I imagine. We have a sea day between here and Torshavn, so a chance to unwind and recover from three ports in three days. And get the tax ranting out of my system, hopefully. Right, how do you address a letter to an ambassador?

Leisurely start, again, very civilised. I even had time for a proper breakfast! Tender port, so we just pootled until all the organised excursions had gone ashore.  Trying to get into a 100-person lifeboat/tender at the same time as six coach-loads of people want to, does not make for happy motoring. So we waited for the all clear to say that the excursions were all gone, and that we independent passengers could set off to begin our day. Walked into town and found the Tourist Information office – standard map purloining and postcard purchases.  Then we pootled down the only shopping street – the whole town is only about ten roads in total, I think.  Bought a couple of souvenirs and some expensive drinks. You know, the usual visiting a new town kind of a morning.

Iceland’s currency is a little annoying. Basically, a glass of coke or a coffee costs 350 krona, roughly. But the coins are in denominations of 100. This means you need the strength of an ox to carry around a purse, because you would need at least 7 coins just to buy coffee for two. A t-shirt costs 3,500. There are 500 krona notes, but they don’t seem to use them much. And if you pay in Euros, which equates a coke to around 4.5 euros, much more manageable (yes, that is dangerously close to a fiver), the locals will only give you change in their local currency and will only accept euro notes, not coins. It’s bizarre and invariably means your wallet weighs more than any purchases you could possibly have made, short of buying an actual entire car.

We ate in a local cafe for lunch. Not exactly local cuisine but it was all we could find. Icelanders don’t really do lunch. They’re more of a cake and coffee and large supper kind of a nation. I had a plate of chips – being a coeliac affords certain perks when eating out – my menu choices are very limited and that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it. Mum and Dad shared a 15 inch pizza and, yes, they did finish it between them!

One thing Iceland is very good at is disabled-access toilets. Even little cafes have proper loos. It is quite impressive and very useful. In fact, they have very nice toilets generally.

But no matter how pretty the little wooden houses painted in bright colours, or how breathtaking the mountains behind, or how enjoyable our visit, one street is, after all, just one street, and we were back on board by 3.30pm. With very rosy cheeks. The weather was bright but overcast, dry but windy (that’s sunglasses and hooded jackets, to you). And I mean windy. Isafjordur is located in an inlet (fjord) that runs northwest to south east in the top left-hand corner of Iceland, with mountains on three sides, so the wind funnels straight in off the Atlantic, via Greenland and the Arctic, and smacks straight into if you’re walking down the main street. If you’re lucky, it hits your back. If you’re going the other way, it slaps you right in the face. Sunburn is one thing. Wind burn is quite another. My cheeks are still tingling and I have been back on board for over two hours.

Films I have seen so far this cruise: Paddington – LOVED it. So did the parents. When he missed his footing (pawing?), the whole cinema gasped. Devil’s Knot – meh. Did the weird teenagers kill the children? Didn’t they? Don’t really care, to be honest. About Time – schmaltzy but nice. Time travelling romance. You can’t go wrong with a bit of Bill Nighy. Les Mis – yet again – the musical film version. Always enjoyable. And always on on a P&O cruise, because most Med cruises stop at Vigo. Edge of Tomorrow – surprisingly gripping Groundhog Day with futuristic warriors and alien enemies. Tom Cruise even acts in places. No, really. Philomena – well, I haven’t really been watching it, because I find it so upsetting, but it is like an old friend, popping up on the telly every so often. A few minutes of Judy Dench can cure a lot of ills. 3 Days to Kill – dying CIA man does one last job in exchange for life-extending drug. Another surprisingly good action movie – Kevin Costner this time, not Tom Cruise. He is really rather good in this. He has always been good at playing protagonists you don’t like much but develop a grudging respect for (think Waterworld) and he does it again here. He’s not a very nice man and he doesn’t treat people very well, but you can’t help but root for him.

And today: Lucy. A fast-moving but thoughtful action movie/meditation piece about what humans are really on Earth for and what we have the potential to achieve if we just stop grabbing more stuff. Morgan Freeman really does do the wise old man thing very well indeed, although in this, he is pretty much reprising the God role from Bruce Almighty but without the laughs, so it was hardly taxing for him. Scarlett Johanssen is not my favourite actress but as this required as little acting as possible – she was supposed to be losing her emotions – she did just fine.  If you like blood, gore, Scarlett Johanssen in need of a more supportive bra, and a touch of existential philosophy, this, you will love. Needless to say, it is Luc Besson, whose work I love anyway. I’ve watched it twice through already. It may well go into my list of favourite films ever, up there alongside Leon.

Silly little administrative niggle that could get out of hand if I could be bothered #1:

I don’t think I have mentioned the ongoing saga with the water, so, as I am up at 4am with no internet signal, you can get it all now. The day after we boarded, I get a letter in my cabin saying they needed to do some repairs/maintenance and would be turning off the water while we were in Killybegs. So I thought I would be clever and order some mineral water. It’s not cheap, nearly two pound for 1.5 litres, but I’ll always drink it if it’s there. I knew that they have what they call a ‘package’ available, a sort of bulk discount. So I rang Room Service and they said the package was buy six, get one free. Fair enough. So I ordered. Nothing came. So two hours later, I rang back. Oh no, madam, only the cabin steward during the day can bring you a package. But I’m thirsty now and they are turning off the water in the morning. So they brought me one bottle and I signed for it. Pay attention now, there will be a test at the end.

The next day, my water didn’t come until I chased and when it did, it was 5 bottles, which I signed for. Apparently the package is 5+1, not 6+1. Still with me? When I looked at the new bar chit, it said I had signed for 6 bottles. So I went to Reception. They tried to give me a long spiel about the difference between Room Service and cabin stewards. Like I care about their internal administrative boundaries. So then they called the Deck Supervisor and printed my bill, so that we could try and establish precisely what I had been charged for and compare it to what I had actually received. No can do. Because the person who deals with water orders doesn’t bother billing daily. They wait until they have a huge pile and then do them all at once. So despite the guidance in the daily onboard newspaper saying to print out your account to keep track of your spending, you can’t, because they haven’t bothered to bill you.

When I got back from dinner that night, there was an extra bottle of water in my cabin. Still counting? So, by my calculations, I have currently received 7 and signed for 7. Which doesn’t seem like much of a discount to me… Although how many I have been actually charged for is anybody’s guess! Day Six and the water still has not, to my knowledge, been billed, so I am no closer to getting this sorted out. It’s a bit of a farce, really. Naughty, even, because if I wasn’t feeling so relaxed and holiday-like, offering a discount and then not giving it is, of course, a criminal offence under the Consumer Protection Against Unfair Trading Regulations 2008. Which all my regular readers will now be well-trained in reciting, I trust! But no need to go there just yet… YET… Watch this space. I’m not going to chase it. If they don’t want to charge me anything at all for seven bottles of surprisingly salty Devon mineral water, why should I care?

It’s called Tarka, by the way. It’s probably less dangerous than drinking neat sea water, but it doesn’t refresh you in the slightest. Seriously, in the event of a nuclear fall-out, you could probably get away with drinking it, but unless the world is actually ending and every other water source is polluted, I’d leave it, if I were you. It’s the least refreshing drink I think I have ever tasted.