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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gosh, my thoughts are scattered today!

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

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

Not a good night’s sleep. Hot and sticky. And I still have a roaring sore throat. Lots of vitamin C today, methinks.

Woken before 9 by an announcement about Manila health inspections. A little five-day cruise/jaunt for the erstwhile chaps and chapesses of Philippines Immigration.  Anyway, I fell back asleep – having not slept for much of the night, it wasn’t difficult! Woke at 11.30. No more announcements, bizarrely. Went to the inspection, only to find they had knocked off for lunch! Handed my form in at Reception, anyway, and went up on deck to have lunch with mum and dad.

Fruit, Sudoku, a bit of reading for the OU essay I have to summon into existence in under a week, swim. Only managed six lengths because (a) it was rough as hell and (b) I am clearly coming down with something and my arms and legs could not do any more. Seems silly to have got wet for so little achievement, but it was worth a try. Apart from anything else, it confirms that my sore throat is working very hard on becoming more than a sore throat, and I need to take it easy for a bit. Mind you, I drank so much, I imagine the chlorine has pretty much sterilised my throat!

The essay is on whether it is possible to discuss the value of human life without recourse to religious doctrine or terminology. Had a chat with dad about this. He thinks that the value of life is extrinsic and based on your utility to others and what you do with your life. Mum thinks the opposite – that the life of a nurse is as valuable as the life of a rapist, because, as she put it, “where there is life, there is hope”. Both arguments intrigue me, so I may actually quite enjoy doing this essay, for a change.

The sea was turquoise green for most of the past week, but we have now reverted to cobalt blue. There are sporadic dark patches here, under the water, that do not match the clouds above. Don’t what is down there, but it looks quite sinister! Thank heavens for radar and sonar, to protect us from bumping into whatever they are. Probably volcanoes that are gradually growing towards the surface. In a few decades’ time, there will probably be new islands here to steer around. This is the ring of fire, after all.

Tomorrow marks the end of week 9 of 16. Another Sunday rolls around. This is passing far too fast for my liking.

Then dinner and back to the cabin. Actually very tired, but my brain is buzzing about this essay. So maybe not quite such an early night as I was originally planning. Need to get some ideas down on paper.

Not a bad night’s sleep. Didn’t go to bed til 1.30 am, because Christine and I went out for a drink. She is a truly amazing person, who has had an extraordinary life – much of it pretty miserable – and she is also really, really nice. We chatted for hours (obviously!). Later, I had some very odd dreams, but not unpleasant, and at least I didn’t get woken by cramp, which made a pleasant change.

Woken by a crew drill at 9.55 am. This crew alert thing is very annoying. I’ve finally found the beginning of an episode of Ambassadors that I have not seen (as usual, I have seen the END), and it is being constantly muted while the Captain blathers on, every few minutes. Here we go again. *Sigh* Heaven forbid those of us who are NOT participating in the drill should be left in bloody peace. They’ve been bugging us, on and off, for over an HOUR now.

28 degrees in the shade as at 8 am this morning. It’s cooling down quite quickly now. 28 may not sound cool to you, but it’s a damned sight cooler than the high 30s we were dealing with last week.

Do you remember the pre-recorded tv channel that I have mentioned before – Prime US – that runs trailers for stuff due out last Christmas? Well, it has just dawned on me that they show weather forecasts for US towns in between shows. They are labelled Monday to Sunday, but with no date or month. That’s bizarre. This could be the forecast for Honolulu six months ago! Very odd.

Hang on, did someone just say that Jack Warner had an apartment in Trump Tower just for HIS CATS?!?!?!?!?!?!? I need to do look into this. That’s astonishing, if true.

Baltic lunch. I went up a loyalty tier at Sydney, due to points/ nights accrued, so now I get to go to the same lunches as the parents. Three courses (asparagus, beef, bizarre dessert), free drinks. Fairly pleasant company. Sat with the doctor, and her dad. Her name is Emma! Chatted with two sisters called Pam and Pat. Turns out, they were on the same Alaska cruise as us, on here, and on the Aurora cruise where mum broke her wrist, so we had quite a lot in common.

The bizarre dessert was called Rocky Road, so you would expect ice cream, right? Wrong. Two balls of chocolate mousse (marbled mix of milk choc and white choc), three cubes of white marshmallow (one coated in cocoa), three VERY small cherries, a handful of salted peanuts and a handful of walnuts. When you mixed it all together, yourself – rather like the Eton Mess you have to mix up yourself – it was surprisingly tasty, but it didn’t look very good on the plate!

No internet. *sigh*. The first real outage of the whole cruise. And it has been out all day, so far.  It came back at 5.20 pm, just as I was off out to do stuff, but it’s a good thing I decided to be late for the stuff, as I had some rather urgent emails to deal with. Like it’s not complicated enough being ten hours adrift…

Have just realised I never set foot outdoors today. That ain’t healthy. No wonder I have a sore throat. Hope it doesn’t become anything more.

I think I have been glutened. I had four bouts of cramp during the night, and my mouth has once again been fitted with wall to wall carpeting. I don’t recall tummy issues, so it might have been cross-contamination, rather than a full on bread intake. Still a tiring way to start what are supposed to be rest days for recharging.

Found out why it may be that we did not see the eclipse. We were told it would begin at 11.30 am. It started at 10.08 am. Spot the difference. Seriously, if you can’t trust P&O to get even something as simple as that right and inform you accurately… It took me precisely 98 seconds of googling to find this.

So anyone who looked up at 11:30 would have been disappointed.  But, to be honest, it didn’t get dark, and it didn’t get cold (it was nearly 40 degrees – how would we have noticed?!). There was no birdsong, so we wouldn’t have heard them stop singing. Papua was actually hundreds of miles off course and so we wouldn’t have seen much anyway. Still a bit annoying though. Time to book for the States for next year perhaps (August 21^st, fact fans – get as far south as possible – Central America would be better still)?

10 am for me, midnight for you. At least we are now on the same day, at least for a while!

I have just watched a documentary showing coral eating plankton. . I had always thought plankton was a form of seaweed – turns out they are really really small fish. With surprisingly big blue eyes. What a barbaric way to kill. The fronds paralyse the passing plankton, and then they drop them down into the mouth. Alive. They drop very slowly, because they are moving through water, not air, of course, and this big black hole opens beneath them. The last thing they see is the faces of other paralysed plankton inside the mouth hole as they fall towards it. And then the mouth closes over them. Utterly horrible. I may have nightmares.

We are now passing an island called New Britain. No prizes for guessing who got there first.

Fruit, Sudoku, 26 lengths (one cramp I can survive, two bouts is time to give up and get out). To be fair, I had been in the pool for an hour before I started swimming, chatting to Christine. It was like being in a rather warm bath that someone tipped up once in a while, sloshing everything down the other end. In fact, I was in so long, I think I got a little sunburned on my nice white watch strap mark, which is annoying, because it won’t prove how pale I was when I boarded, but it’s not the end of the world, in the grand scheme of things.

I am surprised Sky News is allowed to talk so much about the Islamic State membership flash drive they have obtained. Call me cynical, but it makes me wonder how long this has been in the hands of UK/other intelligence organisations. I cannot believe they would be allowed to trumpet it, if it was brand new data. If they publicised it before handing it over to the authorities, they could have done significantly more harm than good, and they could find themselves in VERY serious trouble indeed. It’s an interesting story, though, and it has been fascinating watching it develop from a triumphal but limited announcement last night, to a detailed analysis (after having woken up someone who can read Arabic, presumably!) later in the day.

Black and white night. Lots of women wearing red and blue, as usual. It is very tiresome. Seriously, I know I say this every time, but how frigging hard can it be to dress in black and white? Really? If I’m being unreasonable, feel free to say so, but I simply cannot comprehend that this is in any way hard. All black or all white is fine. It doesn’t have to be black AND white. But how you get from black and white to “head to toe bright red”, is utterly beyond me. Yes, I have a red dress. I might wear it. TOMORROW. When it isn’t BLACK AND WHITE NIGHT. *Sigh*

Couldn’t get back to sleep. Neither did mum. Am literally shaking with fatigue and the effort of just being upright. Have drunk some caffeine. Hope it kicks in soon and is enough to keep me going.

We went ashore about ten. The heat and humidity hits you like a wall. It was 30 in the shade by 8am. It’s devastating. It’s like carrying a weight around your neck and legs. We walked to the end of the quay and found a taxi to take us into town. He tried to change the agreed price once we were already moving, but I soon put paid to that idea. Cheeky bugger. It was only a five minute run. But bless his little entrepreneurial heart for trying. I hope it works for him with other cruise passengers, at least sometimes.

Alotau is a very simple town. There are not really any proper roads or pavements, just damaged tarmac and dust. I walked to and through the market, which was made up of two open-sided buildings – essentially roofs on stilts. One had stalls where almost everyone sold cigarette lighters, batteries or doughnuts, and the other was fresh fruit and veg – but mostly betelnuts. These are the local fruit, about the size of a kiwi fruit, and when you chew them, your mouth goes red and you get a small high. Everyone was very relaxed and happy and friendly – mostly, probably, because they were all very slightly stoned. When I asked why all the stalls sold the same thing, the guide simply shrugged and said “Demand”. And everyone was very kind and concerned about mum – we couldn’t leave her on a bench, because everyone kept stopping to try and help her! Luckily they all speak perfect English, however many other languages they speak as well.

There are two horseshoe-shaped streets of shops, with car parking up the middle – rather like Yorkey’s Knob, but not so much a bird in flight as the Golden Arches on stilts. Long, thin versions. Everything is a surprisingly long way apart from everything else, for somewhere so essentially small. They have put flower beds in the middle of the car park – it looks very pretty, for a car park!

I bought a t-shirt in the supermarket, which had air con! And then we took a cab back to the ship. I don’t think I’ve ever been back on board from anywhere in under two hours, but although the people were very nice, there was precious little to see or do, or buy. I completed a questionnaire from their tourism team – they really want to improve the lot for future visitors. Last year they had nine cruise ships come in; this year they are expecting 14, so I imagine that, if we ever come again, it will look very different indeed.

No postcards bought – none available. Likewise no magnets. No wifi seen. Although they have a mobile phone system run by a company called Digicel, who are really hot on advertising.

Had lunch and then went back to bed. utterly shattered. Slept for just shy of two hours.

Didn’t see any sign whatsoever of a solar eclipse. P&O probably got the time wrong.

My knees are killing me. What the heck have I done to them?!

Apparently lunch time yesterday was bang on halfway round. I forgot the actual timescale is sixteen weeks and three days. So now you know.

We left at 5pm on Wednesday. We won’t see land now until next Tuesday, in Manila.