Ear ache. Not more loud Egyptian musicians, or norovirus handwashing nagging, but actual bona fide physical earache. I think I have a mosquito bite in my left ear. It’s agony. I’ve been given antibiotic drops and am knocking back the ibuprofen, but although the pain subsides, that just means I get to sleep all day as the pain keeps me awake at night. Every time I turn over onto my left side, the pain wakes me up. In the past two days all I have done is eat and go to Spanish class. The rest was all sleep. I did manage to kill her last night, so hopefully, I’ll have no fresh bites tomorrow. She ate well before she died, though. I have bites on my toes, calves, thighs, fingers, shoulders and arms. All on my right side, now I come to think about it, so how she got to my left ear, I have no idea.

As regards the sleep, though, it doesn’t help that the clocks keep going forward, so the nights get shorter and shorter! Twice in two nights isn’t fair, frankly. Seems a bit harsh to me. My body clock doesn’t know which way is up.

We’ve finally got a decent internet satellite signal (and BBC World is back, although CNN remains elusive), so I’ve been catching up with some of my friends’ news from home and several seem to be having a particularly rubbish time at the moment. I feel bad that I can’t log on more often or be of more help. All I can do is send virtual hugs, which feels a bit lacking, when they’re facing job loss, health problems, bereavement and mistreatment at work.

No pirates, so far…

Weather forecast for Salalah tomorrow: 24 – 26 degrees (depending on which tv station you watch!). My sun cream seems to have curdled somewhat. It now has the consistency of cottage cheese! Still seems to work, though, oddly enough…

As regards the sleeping and the ear thing,  it doesn’t hurt as much as it did yesterday, but it’s still quite swollen and sore. Hopefully another day or so should finally knock it on the head and I can get a decent night’s sleep and get my days back! Mind you, as we are currently in the Gulf of Aden (pirate waters, arrrr), we’re not allowed out on the Prom deck (Deck 7), so I couldn’t walk my mile, even if I did have the energy. Which I don’t, so it’s all moot, frankly.  Am astonished how draining earache is.

Salalah

It may have been 26 degrees but it absolutely fell down with rain. Marvellous.  Didn’t go ashore at all.

A quick P.S. re: Piraeus. Non-smokers should not go there. Ever. Under any circumstances. All Greeks smoke. Everywhere. Constantly. I honestly believe that the smog in Athens isn’t car pollution, it’s lung output. Absolutely DEEEEEEEEEEEEESGUSTING. Bleurgh.

Cairo

Factoid of the day #1: There is currently a trend in Egypt for novelty covers for car headrests. I’ve had pairs of Minnie Mouses (Minnie Mice?) grinning out at me and a couple of very disconcerting panda heads. It’s all rather odd and not a little creepy.

Got up hideously early – 6am or 4am to you and my body clock. Instead of booking an expensive P&O tour that went to places we’d already been, we booked something independently, courtesy of the ‘tinternet. We were met by Mohammed and Mahmud and their nameless driver in a little minibus-type thing at 7am. The drive into Cairo and down to Memphis took four hours, almost exactly. The roads are bumpy, to say the least, even the tarmac ones, and the suspension of the little minibus was extremely soft, which made for a rather disconcertingly bouncy journey. Sleep catch-up was NOT an option.

Factoid of the day #2: Mido is short for Mohammed. When Mahmud told us he has an eleven-year old son, I very knowledgeably said, “So his name is Mohammed?” (all firstborn sons are named Mohammed). “No,” says Mahmud, “it’s Mido”. “What does Mido mean?” asks I. “It’s short for Mohammed,” he says. *sigh* He was very chuffed that I was a Spurs fan and knew who Mido was!

Memphis is very odd. It was the first capital of Egypt after the two kingdoms were united, but virtually nothing remains. There are the ruins of the temple, but you can’t go to them, as they are fenced off behind some houses. So you get taken down the road to a “museum” of bits they found. This is sort of like a miniature sculpture park, only some of the sculptures are 30 foot tall limestone statues of Raamses II. There’s no context, there’s no explanation or history or even little signs to tell you what you’re looking at. If your guide doesn’t know, you’re stuffed! Luckily ours did. There’s also a small sphinx whose face is still in tact. It looks very different to the big one at Giza! There is also a building which is called the Mit Rahina Museum. It’s a one room building and contains precisely one artefact: an absolutely massive statue of Raamses II. This one is lying down, because he’s lost his legs, but he is absolutely colossal in scale. That’s the museum. One item, in one room. I tell you, it’s a good thing the Trade Descriptions Act doesn’t cover Egypt!

Factoid of the day #3: Cairo traffic jams really should be a Wonder of the World. We were on a clearly painted three-lane road. In FIVE very neat lanes of traffic. In Cairo, the width of the lane is the width of your vehicle, if you’re lucky. Those who undertake and overtake will give you just that amount of space, no more, no less. No need to go into a whole other lane just to get past you who takes up less than half, now, is there? Didn’t see any cyclists all day. Not surprised, they’ve probably all long since been squished between over-friendly car manoeuvres. Lots of donkeys and carts, however, who have the sense to stick to the hard shoulder. So would I have done, give half a chance!

From Memphis to Dahshur to see the Red Pyramid (which isn’t red any more cos someone nicked all the red sandstone covering it) and the Bent Pyramid, two of the oldest pyramids found. Then to Saqarra for lunch. The itinerary said we would return to Cairo to eat at the Hard Rock Cafe but we begged for this not to happen (!), and instead we went to the Restaurant of the Pharaohs in Saqqara. The food was superb, surprisingly Mediterranean (lots of aubergine and things in yoghurt). There was also a barbecue of chicken and beef with rice (no risk of accidental pork here!) which was yummy. There was a band of three men playing traditional instruments. However, this mostly consisted of the one with the oboe-type instrument (you know the one – the one you see in pictures of snake charmers) blasting it til your ears bled ONLY when you were walking right past them. The rest of the time, they were virtually silent. My ears are still ringing, six hours later!

Then round the corner to Saqarra, which was what it was really all for. The Step Pyramid of Imhotep is believed to be (at least currently) the oldest pyramid on Earth. We were astonished to find that, instead of just a pyramid, there was a whole complex of buildings leading to it – including a dramatic colonnaded entryway, a courtyard with other buildings and, underneath, 28 feet underneath, no less, the tombs of the high priests and those who held positions of authority. Imhotep was the architect, not the occupant. I think his name was King Zoser, but don’t hold me to that. It was hot and windy and there was a lot of sand in my eyes and ears at the time!

By now our body clocks were chiming tea time so we retired to the J W Marriott Cairo for tea and cakes and posh loos (most important!) before beginning the two hour drive back to the ship. When we got back, I had a shower (sand, lots of it) and then we had dinner in the Orangery (the self-service cafeteria on the top deck that currently isn’t self-service to reduce the risk of the norovirus being re-spread around). And now, here I am, uncertain whether I need to pass out or go out, but definitely leaning towards the former as of now… Oh, did I mention it was 24 degrees in the shade today…?

Last night may not have been the best night for the 18-35 Get Together (with free booze!). I didn’t get to bed till 2 and I’m a bit hungover today. Met a lovely couple, on their honeymoon, Guy and Simon from Eastbourne. Ever so sweet, and Simon shares my love of the Pet Shop Boys, much to Guy’s dismay!

We didn’t have a “To Do” list for Piraeus. We’ve been to both Athens and Piraeus before. We went to Carrefour and M&S, had a cup of coffee in a bar and lunch snacks in another (I didn’t eat anything cos I feel like poop). Then we wandered around the marina for a while looking at the boats. All different sizes, from itty bitty to OMG! Then back to the ship.

I may have hit a new personal best today. I bought two Christmas presents. On January the 12th. Oh yes. Trouble is, I didn’t think to bring the Christmas present book with me, so I can’t note down what I’ve brought for whom. I just hope I can remember when I get back in April!

Walked a mile and a third today. Would have done more but I hurt my knee doing the twist last night and it started to complain. Got to be fit for Egypt tomorrow, so I had to give in. It’s 18 degrees, now, which is very nice indeed. Just right. 24 tomorrow in Cairo, so I’ll have to dig out the sun cream tonight. I wonder if I need mosquito repellent. Can’t remember.

“Dear Passenger

On the 18th of this month we will sail out of the Red Sea and head toward the Indian Ocean. This will involve a transit of the Gulf of Aden [the world’s second hotspot for piracy after the Somali coast].

We have a comprehensive security plan for this transit. As a part of this plan, you should be aware of the following:

The external Promenade deck area of deck seven will be closed on both sides and no passengers or crew will be allowed access for the duration of the transit.

During hours of darkness, only essential open deck lights will be on as it is important to reduce the ship’s external lighting. With this in mind, please turn off your cabin lights and close the curtains of your cabin window or balcony.

In order to familiarize (sic) you with these additional measures there will be a passenger and crew drill at 10am.

In the unlikely event that an incident takes place, the ship’s alarm bells will be sounded followed by a broadcast from the Bridge. Please listen carefully to all the instructions given to you.

Initial action will be as follows:
Go directly to your cabin
If you have a window or balcony you should go into the corridor outside your cabin and sit on either a chair or on the floor.
If you have an inside cabin you should remain inside your cabin.
All passengers will be accounted for by their room steward.

During this time you should not go onto any open decks or near any external windows.

I must emphasise that the safety and the security of every individual on board is my highest priority and the implementation of this procedure is an important part of the ship’s security plan.”

So we have the drill. I have an inside cabin, so I stay in bed! The announcements go on, so eventually I give up and pop my head out into the corridor to see what’s going on.

I hear a woman down the corridor telling her steward in no uncertain terms (I think I can use “imperiously” quite safely here) that she will only turn off the lights on one side of her cabin as she has “checked” and the other light cannot be seen from outside.

Now, firstly “turn off your lights and close your curtains” doesn’t seem like the most invasive and demanding of requests, at least to me. It’s hardly arduous, is it? What’s the big deal in just doing what you’re told?

Secondly, unless you can FLY, you can’t see whether your lights show on deck B. It’s about 90 feet from sea level or about 75 feet from ground level. You just ain’t that tall, love. Even if you could, you can only get outside the ship during daylight hours, so you can’t see what it looks like in the dark.

Thirdly, seriously, just give it a MODICUM of thought. If they can see a light, they can FIRE AT IT. You stupid woman. Seriously. How complex a set of ideas is this, really? They have speedboats, AK-47s and rocket-propelled grenades. Why would you want to leave a light ON?! This from someone well old enough to have lived through the war and who must surely understand the concept of the blackout. I swear, these people are going to give me an ulcer.

I went to reception and told them what I had heard, because she could well endanger us all, after all, and the girl I spoke to thanked me for telling her, but she wasn’t surprised. She said that I would be amazed at some of the complaints she had received, particularly that there wasn’t enough seating in the corridor during the drill. It’s a drill. In a corridor.

It is important to remember at all times that it doesn’t require any amount of intelligence whatsoever to have the money to go on a cruise. Repeat after me…any idiot can afford a cruise, any idiot can afford a cruise, any idiot…

Just to be clear, don’t worry, I’m pretty sure we are armed to the teeth (although they would never come out and say so) and we saw them testing the water cannons yesterday. I’m not that worried. It does happen, but they have a system in place. Spare your thoughts instead for the inhabitants of Haiti instead. Their need is greater than anyone else’s. 7.0 is a big quake. The scale only goes to 8, doesn’t it?

Well, not exactly. In your case, it’s three degrees of separation. Yes, you, dear reader of mine.

A man and his friends plan a two year round the world trip on a yacht. They set off and he joins them a day or so in. On his first night on board, he steps out onto the deck to take over the watch and is swept overboard. They almost reach him four times, but the swell is over four metres and they soon lose sight of him. The coastguard and nearby vessels join the search, but he is found five hours later, dead. Instead of beginning their dream holiday, they now have to repatriate his body and arrange the funeral.

His name, as I said, was Richard Tapp. It turns out that he was a close personal friend of Mike Carr, one of P&O’s cruise ship captains, and a personal friend of ours from the Oriana Worldy in 2004/5. So there you are. Richard Tapp, Mike Carr, me, you. Three degrees of separation from a random stranger in Portugal to you, where you sit right now, reading this.

In case you can’t guess, It’s 4.30 in the morning and I can’t sleep. This is odd because normally on cruise ships, it’s all I can do to stay awake. It’s the rocking motion, honest! It’s probably because I have a streaming cold and breathing is requiring significantly more effort than usual and I think I may have a fever too, cos I’m hot one minute and shivering the next. Marvellous. Even better, I think my beloved daddy gave it to me. Thanks a bunch, daddykins.

Barcelona was a very pleasant day. It was dry and sunny, although, as we are only about one day ahead of the weather, it was fairly nippy. The high was forecast as 5 degrees, but I wore both coats and kept having to take them off! I bought a top in C&A, so mission accomplished there, and a pair of shoes in Aerosoles, which cost the same as the two pairs mum bought (mine are twice as pretty though!).

We stopped for an elevenses drink in a cafe in El Triangle, a small shopping centre built around a FNAC (French version of WHSmiths combined with HMV). Mum and dad had hot chocolates which turned out to be melted chocolate. Literally. A cup full of melted chocolate. No milk, no water, nothing. Pure chocolate. I can’t tell you how sublime they were! Even I had some, and I don’t “do” hot drinks, as you know! Mum ate hers with a spoon! If I thought hot chocolate was always like that, I’d drink it all the time!

Good luck to those taking part in the African Cup of Nations. I wouldn’t stay, if it was me, but I admire the bravery of those who decide to. The whole point of the cup is to promote peace between the African nations, but you can’t blame the Togolese for wanting to go home to bury their dead. Please send up a prayer for the goalie, who was shot in the back and is currently undergoing surgery in South Africa.

The world is full of people with nothing better to do than to hurt others, usually random strangers, and we are unbelievably lucky and blessed to have been born somewhere more sane than average.

Name that quote: “Don’t eat a muffin while I’m improving you.”

Walked another mile today. Was intending to do more, as I imagine I’ll do less once it gets really hot, but by the end of the third circuit, my legs were really tired, so I had to admit defeat. In fact, by the time I got back to my cabin, I was actually shuffling because I didn’t have the strength to lift my feet up! Hope I’m not coming down with anything. Losing an hour when the clocks went forward during the night has already started having an effect on me. Although I did drink a fair amount last night as well, which might not have helped… it was only one whisky sour and two tom collinses, but that’s three times more than I normally drink in a night!

The big news of the day is that the norovirus has arrived. Someone who filled in the health questionnaire when boarding, lied. We had an announcement at noon from the Captain that one or two people were ill, but not to worry, they would take extra precautions. At 5pm, they cancelled the Captain’s drinks parties. Tonight is a formal night and it is customary to have a drinks party with free booze to allow us to meet the Captain and crew and listen to him give a little welcome speech. At lunch he said it would go ahead, but people shouldn’t shake hands. At 5pm, he said more people were ill and it would be postponed for a week.

Funnily enough, yesterday at dinner, I asked why there was no alcohol gel available to clean our hands when entering the restaurant and the waiters said that the policy was that it wasn’t necessary. I pointed out that everyone coming to dinner either used a stair handrail or the lift buttons and it seemed unwise, but I was told that that was the policy and that was an end to it. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that there will probably be some available tonight… What do you think?

9pm update

There was. Surprise, surprise.

2am Friday morning 8 January

Real life is never far away on a cruise ship. It’s not the isolated idyll that some holidays can be. On a ship, reality is always very close to hand, even when we’re miles from land.

At about 11pm this evening, an announcement was made that we would be slowing down, so the movement of the ship may seem more pronounced. This was because we were responding to a mayday call as a sailor on a nearby yacht had gone overboard. We duly lowered our search and rescue boats (different to lifeboats as they are open so that people can be pulled in – lifeboats have roofs and doors). We’re still looking.

It has now been three hours since we joined the search and although we are still following our search pattern, and the Portuguese coastguard boats and helicopters are also here, no one I have spoken to believes he can still be alive. Never mind the 4 metre swell. Think of the cold. Even if he was wearing a lifejacket to keep him afloat if he gets tired, the cold must be unbelievable and I personally doubt he’ll survive, even if he is found. We have our medical team and all their equipment standing by at the door, defibrillators, the lot, should he be recovered, but, call me a cynical pessimist, I’m not hopeful. I’m happy to cross everything, along with everyone else, but the current air temperature is 12 degrees so I reckon the water is as near freezing as makes no difference. The crew are all doing what they can to help, peering over the side into the darkness, but it’s a big ocean and one person is very small. It’s pitch dark, of course. There’s no ambient light whatsoever. Those of you who live in towns have probably very little idea of what true darkness looks like, but trust me, it’s black. Of course, we’re lit up like a Christmas tree, but that just pushes the darkness away by a couple of metres. After that, you can’t see your own hand in front of your face. I’ll offer up a prayer before I go to bed, and all we can do now is hope.

10.30am Friday

He died. They found him at about half 3 but he was dead on recovery.
It does puzzle me that it took five hours to find him. Surely the Portuguese coastguard have infra-red cameras? He should have glowed in the dark, surely? Even if he cooled down, he should have showed up as warmer than the surrounding water for quite a while.

I just hope he couldn’t see the lights of the ships looking for him. That would be too awful, if he could see them but they couldn’t see him and he slowly died waiting for them to come closer. Hopefully, he was unconscious before he hit the water.

Horrible.

But, despite the sadness, the cruise goes on, life goes on.
And so, we resume our journey – five hours behind schedule. If I thought we were pegging it before, that’s nothing to what we’re doing now. We have apparently made up two hours so far, and they’re hoping we’ll make up another hour or so, but we’ll be arriving in Barcelona late on Saturday. This is a Good Thing, as it means I don’t have to get up so early. Mum and Dad wanted to be off the ship an hour before the shops even open. No idea why. Not sure what they thought they were going to do!

Personally, I have a cold and I feel rotten. If I could justify staying in bed all day under the duvet, I would, cos I feel like rubbish. My throat feels like someone has been sandpapering it while I slept. It’s really very painful. In fact, I think I’ll go and have a nap before my Spanish class.

This cold has really knocked me sideways. I couldn’t walk a mile today. I was exhausted after one circuit, which is only a third of a mile. I thought about pushing it, but it’s Barcelona tomorrow, so I should probably conserve my strength. It’s only 10pm but I’m going to have an early night and hope I can sleep it off.

Still snowing in England, I see. You know you’re in trouble when you make the top stories on CNN, the world’s most America-centric news channel! Stay warm, my friends.

Further edit: His name was Richard Tapp. Coincidentally, he was a friend of the captain.

Day 2. Don’t worry, there won’t be one of these every day! I just have some time on my hands and stuff on my mind. It’ll slow down and ease off soon, promise! This one may seem a bit bitty and random stream of conscience-y, but, hey, sorry, you get what you’re given. I’m afraid. *shrug*

It’s a very odd sensation, sitting in the Cyb@study on this ship. Normally the computers face fore and aft, but here they face into the ship. It’s very disorientating, because you’re not facing in the direction that the ship is moving! I’m probably not explaining it very well, but, trust me, it’s an odd sensation.

Snow in the South East. 40cm yesterday. Another 20 today. We are really pegging it at the moment, trying to stay ahead of the weather, which is going to move south and chase us. Last night I took a photo of the Lido (swimming pool) deck under snow. Very odd sensation, seeing the sunloungers covered in snow. Trez odd indeed.

Slept well last night, despite Force 7/8 winds. Down to 4/5 today, which is much more than copeable with.

Walked a mile today round the deck after lunch – mum did a third of a mile with me. It was a bit blowy but it was good to clear the cobwebs. The inside of the ship is very warm and stuffy (to compensate for it being apparently somewhat parky out) and I’ve been feeling quite headachey as a result, so the fresh air was very enjoyable, even if I did get a little numb in places! Took some photos of the distant rain/ snow clouds while we walked. Just hope they stay distant!

Apart from a couple of sprogs – one about 5 years old and the other about 9-ish (who I’m pretty sure should be in a school somewhere, even if it is closed by snow today)- I seem to be the youngest person on the ship by about forty years. It’s very weird. The average age on worldies is always high, but this is ridiculous. I’m hoping a few more youngish will materialise over the next couple of days. Went to the nightclub last night. Just me, the DJ and the waiters. The DJ is seriously depressed. He’s quitting in Athens, and is counting down the days. He says that no one comes to dance EVER. Even at Christmas! It’s like spending time with Marvin. I keep expecting him to say “Life? Don’t talk to me about life”. I’m hoping that someone more cheery replaces him! He’s probably a very nice bloke when he’s not so depressed!

Went to Spanish class today – figured I’d skip French… although the teacher is the same for both and is half French and half Uruguayan, so I chatted to her in French later. The Spanish class was PACKED. It’ll be interesting to see how many come back tomorrow, as there is a fairly high drop-off rate usually. Part of me is reassured to be going back to the beginning, but part of me is worried that I’m not going to learn much in a class of over 40… I learned how to spell my name (which isn’t as silly as it sounds, honest) but the rest was recap for me. You know, ‘my name is’, ‘I’m from England’. That sort of stuff. It’s conversational content, designed for immediate use, which is good, cos we’ll be in Barcelona in a couple of days! I’m guessing we won’t be fluent by then though… The Spanish teacher is leaving in Hong Kong and we get someone else until Singapore 2. After that, no Spanish at all, but we get an Italian teacher. I’m wondering if it might be a bit confusing to start Italian straightaway. Have to give that one a bit of thought… No rush to decide though, let’s face it. Irritatingly, the Spanish class currently clashes with the art class, which is a bit of a tough choice to have to make. I may yet switch, I dunno. Or they may change the class time or location or put in another class for non-beginners at a different time. It’s all going to be a bit in flux for a few days, I think.

I have bumped into a couple of familiar faces so far, one nice, one not so. In fact, she sat at our table at lunch and it wasn’t until after she’d gone that I could point out to mum that she was the rudest person we’d ever met and she’d made me cry on Oriana some years ago. She just randomly insults people. She’s obsessed with being thin and just tells people how fat they are, even if they aren’t especially. Friends of hers, complete strangers, anybody. She’s an absolute cow. And frankly, being 82 is no excuse for bad manners. Luckily she held her tongue today, although she told her friend she should go to the gym with her because she’s fat. If she’d said anything to me, it could have got very nasty very quickly. Personally, if one of my friends spoke to me like that, I’d chuck them over the side and be done with it, but, hey, whatever floats your ship, so to speak. If you want her as a friend, that’s your lookout, but I’m staying well away from her, thank you very much. Horrible old bag.

Here endeth the disorganised ramblings of the day.

Well, here we are. All aboard. Seriously the toing and froing necessary to get from your front door to this sofa is quite astonishingly arduous. Not only dealing with minicab drivers who have no idea where South Mimms Services is, but then standing in the freezing cold guarding 14 pieces of luggage until the driver has finished his bacon butty and comes back to unlock the coach. Then the journey with quite nauseatingly soft suspension, way worse than a rough sea! Then mum wants a bag from the coach hold to carry on herself which takes an eternity to find because the whole idea is that you don’t see your cases til they arrive at your cabin. Then the queue and security and passport and ticket and sign a piece of paper saying you’re not ill and haven’t been for two days and have your photo taken and sign your cruise card and hand over your credit card and then put the bags through the x-ray machine and walk through the scanner, but then you have to do it again because, oh, I don’t know, it’s a day with a y in it. Then you heave up a rather steep gangplank, show your cruise card for the third time since you signed it and find a lift. Then have to find your cabin. Then realise you’re walking down the evens and you’re in the odds which is completely the other side of the ship so go back down the corridor and start again. Then I get to my cabin and the door handle is so stiff, I hurt my hand trying to get in the room! Which is annoying, because it means your cabin steward’s first experience of you is a complaint. Not ideal. He’s very sweet, Daniel, although the idea that a person never drinks hot drinks clearly threw him completely. They very kindly put out a kettle and tea and cups and milk and spoons, all of which are rather noisy in rough weather, not to mention mobile in some cases, so, as I don’t need them, I always ask for them to be taken away. He was flummoxed. He looked at me like my skin had turned green and I was beeping at him. Absolutely floored, he was. Bless. But I have a rose in a vase and free gunk in the bathroom (you know, eye stuff, skin stuff, blah blah) and some sweeties and a free (small) bottle of water and I’ve turned the air con down from sauna to breathable, so, so far, so good. I think the layout of the ship is fairly similar to Oriana, but I’m going to go and have an explore anyway. Bye for now, my snow-bound chums.

P.S. Talking of snow… it’s snowing. On deck. Bit odd…

Sunbathing on my birthday.

That is all.

As you were.

I’ve had it. I’m fit for nothing. All I seem to do is sleep. In fact, all any of us seem to do is sleep. Not just Mum, Dad and me, although Dad managed to doze off in mid-sentence at lunch today (!), but everyone on the ship. Maybe it’s all the time zone changes (clocks go backwards or forwards almost every time I put on a clean pair of underwear), maybe it’s all the good food, it certainly isn’t all the good weather (we’ve had precious little of that!). Maybe it’s the “three ports in three days” thing they keep doing to us. We’ve had that twice now, the second set ending yesterday, and today, I was fit for nothing. Seriously, I managed to be upright by half noon for lunch, then did the Sudoku of the day, then I needed a nap, woken by a pointless announcement (thanks, Nigel the Cruise Director), then a talk, then a trip to the Observation Deck to fail to spot the International Space Station pass by with the Shuttle attached (complete with missing toolbox nearby perhaps?), then change for formal dinner. SUPERB dinner tonight, thank you Gordon (F&B Manager*, sits on our table and buys us drinks!). Then internet research for Tortola tomorrow and emailage. Now it is 10.30pm and it is all I can do to keep my eyes open! I’m off to bed in a sec! Seriously, you think I sleep a lot at home?! That’s NOTHING to what I can get done on here! But, like I say, it’s not just us. Everyone is knackered beyond belief. There was a LOT of sunburn at dinner tonight, presumably adorning those who had fallen asleep in the sun, rather than in the shade!

Three ports in three days is actually quite stressful. For each port, you have to research where you want to go, book excursions or cancel them if you change your mind (unless they are weather-dependent in which case they get cancelled from under you and you have to make other plans), change money, worry about what to carry and what to wear (raincoat? Sun cream? Mosquito repellent? Welly boots? Trousers? Shorts? Bottle of water? Sun hat? Maps, port guide, credit cards, cash (various currencies or just the one?)), handbag or just pockets? It’s all very complicated! And that’s before you even get off! Then there’s arguing, sorry, negotiating, with taxi drivers, finding tour meeting points, making sure you don’t miss tour meeting times, finding your way around a strange town, shopping lists of things you need to buy, (of course, not so much of an issue as everyone who said they would email me a list of things to get for them, FORGOT! (Tali, Shirley?!)), the vagaries of the local weather – wind? If so, what speed? Strong breeze or force 9 (I kid you not, force 9). Sun? Strong or with enough shade/cloud thrown in? Fleece? Raincoat? Just t-shirt? Rain? Shower(s) or tropical blooming downpour (several of those, thank you very much)?

Anyone who tells you hurricane season ends in October, just punch them for me and be done with it. It runs throughout November nowadays, thanks to global warming and we have had miserable weather for much of this cruise. Now, I don’t really mind much what the weather does, but it affects the mood of everyone else on board and it can limit your enjoyment of a place when you’re too busy picking your way through the puddles to look up and admire the view.

How big is the town? Are there any sites to see? If so, how spread out are they? Can we do them all in the time available? Where are the posh shops? Where are the cheapy shops? Can we walk it or do we need a taxi? Where are we aiming for? Where shall we eat? How fit is Mum feeling today? How fit am I feeling today, for that matter?! It’s not easy, all this enjoying yourself, you know!

On board, you just carry your cruise card and your card key to your cabin. That’s it. That’s how you pay for everything – it just goes on your bill. So it’s much simpler.

But going ashore is quite a logistical exercise. After all, if you forget something, you CAN come back and get it, but it’ll take a HUGE chunk out of your already rather short day. So you need to get it right the first time. Get it wrong (trousers vs. Shorts) and you either freeze or sweat yourself silly all day. Sun hat/ sun cream – forget them and you get heatstroke in New Orleans and have to leave the jazz dinner early because the room won’t stop spinning. Insect repellent? Forget that, in Cozumel, say, and while you risk a few mozzy bites that itch for a day or so in some places, you also risk being bitten by smaller, much more cunning stuff in Mexico that itches for DAYS and swells into big pink mountainous blotches that itch so much you wake up in the night swearing. Sandals or closed toes? Which often seems to translate as ‘wet feet or hot feet’?
Ports are hard work. In fact, so much so that some people never get off. Ever. They get on in Southampton and they get off in Southampton. That’s it. And I can see why! It’s quite exhausting trying to “do” a place in one day and to do that three days in a row is really pushing it some. We’ve never had this “three ports in three days” thing before, and I think we’ll try and avoid it in future. It’s murder!

I’m not complaining. I’m having a lovely time. Really, I am! But I just thought you should understand that it’s not all cocktails and sunloungers. In fact, on this cruise, there’s been very little of either – we haven’t had the weather for it!

If I’m harping on about the weather, sorry, but when you book a Caribbean cruise, do YOU expect rain?! No, exactly. Neither did we! We’ve had some shocking weather and some bumpy journeys on this cruise, which we didn’t anticipate at all. Today was lovely, and, like I said, it was sunny enough on New Orleans Day 1 for me to get heatstroke, but it CHUCKED it down on New Orleans Day Two, Grand Cayman and Ocho Rios and blew Force 9 and cloudy in Cozumel. Look at the itinerary. Seriously. Not quite what we expected!

I can still enjoy myself in the rain. But here’s hoping tomorrow is a sunny day all the same. Like I said, personally, the weather doesn’t bother me one iota. In fact, I’m having a lovely time. Very relaxing. Talking of which, I’m off to bed. G’nite.

* Food and Beverages Manager, the one responsible for all the food on board.

The weather isn’t any one person’s fault.  But it really is quite depressing when the weather is so windy and the sea so rough, it delays our arrival in a port, causes us to have to moor on the other side of the island to that planned and causes the cancellation of half a dozen tours. Primarily because this means that there will be more people clogging up the stuff that we want to use instead! Like taxis and so on. Of course, if I had a decent map of the island, I’d feel better about it. But there’s no internet access.  Again.  So we are reliant on the dubious accuracy of the port guide map.  Doesn’t fill me with confidence, I must confess.

Yesterday was windy but pleasant in Cozumel, an island off the coast of Mexico. Although the sun didn’t shine, it was overcast and quite dark at times, it was warm – in the eighties – and the day was pleasant enough. It was very windy, and the sea crashed over the beach and sea wall causing spray to hit us on the prom! When we went inland (the island is about 30 miles by 9), the wind was much less so we saw the Mayan ruins in quite pleasant conditions. Got bitten to pieces, mind. How on earth did I get bitten BETWEEN my fingers?! Arms, I can understand. Legs, even in trousers, are comprehensible. But between my fingers?! For heaven’s sake!

We couldn’t find anywhere open to eat that served food Mum would eat, so we ended up in McDonalds (sorry, James!), where I drank a Fanta of so virulent a colour orange, I was sure I would be quite stoned for the rest of the afternoon. Sort of International Orange (the colour of the Golden Gate Bridge and Easyjet). Quite alarming. I suppose Fanta looked like that in the UK before the restrictions on food colourings came into force, but I’m sure I don’t remember ever drinking anything quite that bright, even when I was young. I took a photo, because I doubt anyone would believe it otherwise. When I upload my photos to my photobucket album, you’ll be able to see for yourselves.

Today we are attempting to visit Grand Cayman. See paragraph 1 above for how that’s going so far. Suffice to say, it is 10.40 and I have time to sit and blog…

Much much later: very disappointing. Beautiful weather, gorgeous beaches, but the taxi drivers were vile money-grabbing swine who made unobliging an art form and the tour organisers from the ship deliberately made us wait around for two hours for nothing and completely ruined our chances of seeing the island independently. I’ve been annoyed with P&O before, frustrated and irked, but never before have I been this angry. We arrived late and left on time, so they knew what time we had was valuable. And yet, through a mixture of arrogance, incompetence and wilful vicious self-interest, they deliberately messed us around. I was incandescent with rage and have not fully calmed down. When will I ever get the chance to go there again?! Thanks a lot, P&O.

Today is (supposed to be) Ocho Rios. It is 9.45am and is, to quote Dad, “tipping it down”, so we’re not rushing off. There’s very little to see here, just shopping, so there’s no mad dash to get everything done. I might go and see Firefly if there’s time. This was originally a pirate look-out post but is most famous for being Noel Coward’s house. This area is steeped in pirate history. Every stop we’ve made, every single one, has had a guide telling us of pirate comings and goings. One man from the ship yesterday in Grand Cayman, who was clearly an utter moron, got all uppity when our pirate guide, Captain Splash (aka Steve the Canadian) said that Francis Drake was a pirate. Of course he was, he was just licensed by the Crown to do it to other countries’ ships and not our own! Idiot. He kept saying “he’s our national history”. I think he meant hero. No idea what a privateer was. Not a clue. Seriously, this is the calibre of companion we get on these things. There is no intelligence test to having enough money to go on cruises, you know. Any idiot can, and, clearly, does. You cannot even conceive of the level of stupidity of some of these people. Trust me. You know what? If you know nothing about your own country’s history, SHUT UP!

It’s still raining in Jamaica. Still, there’s John Cusack on the telly and Mama Mia at the cinema, so maybe I won’t get off at all!