Day Fourteen – Sea Day 3 of 3 – last day before Southampton and home

Or, in this instance, bumpety bump.

The last day always goes by in a whirl. It was still warm enough for shorts and flip-flops, but still a little on the bumpy side (it’ll calm down again once we enter the Channel). A mixture of packing and filling in forms took up most of the day. Dad met with the Customer Services Manager to discuss not only the party in Ajaccio and the offence it probably caused, but the miserable way our complaint has been handled by her staff.

My cabin steward blotted his copybook tonight (not wise the day before tip day!), by not having finished my cabin by the time I came back from dinner. He said he had started at the other end today. Really? You’ve been so badly trained that no one told you to do the first sitting passengers while they are out, and then do the second sitting passengers when THEY, in turn, go for dinner? Seems pretty bloomin’ obvious to me, but then I think I’ve been on cruise ships a lot longer than most of the crew on this ship. I’ve actually started to wonder if this is a training ship, where new staff come to learn their trade, before being let loose on ‘proper’ passengers on ‘proper’ ships. Because there isn’t a single department on here that hasn’t in some way behaved in an incompetent/ downright shambolic manner at some point over the last two weeks. Food? Tick. Cabins? Now tick. Reception/Customer Service? Tick. Maintenance? Didn’t stop hammering during the minute’s silence. Tick. It’s pretty woeful, frankly.

Still, for all my apparent criticisms, the weather has been brilliant and all the ports enjoyable, so overall, we had a good time. We always do. It takes a lot to ruin a cruise in our eyes – we’re usually just really happy to be there. But the little niggles that mar things, and prevent you from having an even better time, they’re the ones that bug me. Because they CAN do it, when they can be bothered. It just seems that, on Oceana, at the moment, they can’t.

Next cruise: January 2016. Toodle pip!

Day Thirteen

Sea Day again. Yay!

Boy, there are a lot of speed bumps and potholes off the coast of Portugal. It’s very bumpy today. Quite hard to stay awake, to be honest, because it’s so soothing, the rocking motion. Except when we hit a pothole and your teeth bang together. That’s not so soothing.

Got up early today and went to see a film. First one I’ve made it to on this entire cruise. The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. Thoroughly enjoyed it. They have no theatre on here, so they lower a big screen onto the stage of the theatre, which means very comfy tiered seating, but right at the bow of the ship, so not the best location on a bumpy day. Particularly when we are mostly pitching, not rolling. Still, I enjoyed it thoroughly. Such a wonderful cast.

I have watched some movies in my cabin, though. I think I mentioned Frozen and Paddington. If I Stay was VERY good – highly recommended, The Fault in our Stars was not nearly as schmaltzy as I was fearing – very enjoyable, and I have also seen Mockingjay Part 1 – I think, I missed the first few minutes. I have also watched bits of The Theory of Everything, Annie, and Still Alice, but none grabbed me enough to stay for more, and one film I cannot find the name for. The bit I saw was a man in a spacesuit trapped in another dimension (time) inside a bookcase and he communicates with his daughter using Morse code to make her watch stop. Does that ring a bell with anyone? It was weird, but weirdly enjoyable. If I could find out what it was called, I might endeavour to watch the whole film some day. Please let me know if you know which film I am babbling about.

Then a late lunch up top in the sunshine, but indoors (a bit blowy for outdoors – hence the bumpiness). The white horses are rather plentiful in this neck of the woods – the Bay of Biscay –but the stabilisers are dealing with most of it. Some people refuse to cross the Bay, and fly into and out of Barcelona in order to skip it. I don’t see the problem, myself. Although it is a little tricky to get anything done when you can’t keep your eyes open.

Poisoned again tonight, but not (as far as I know thus far) by gluten. I ordered a chicken burger, which they assured me would be in gluten-free breadcrumbs in a gluten-free bun. I ordered it yesterday – twenty-four hours in advance. When it came, it was not in breadcrumbs, but in some brown gunk that looked distinctly unappetising, but I gave them the benefit of the doubt and ate it anyway. Big mistake. I now know, with the benefit of 20:20 hindsight, that the chef, for some reason best known to himself, decided that what this perfectly ordinary chicken burger really needed was large slices of RAW GARLIC hidden inside it. My mouth was on fire all through the meal, and my dessert tasted very odd indeed. I have now brushed my teeth and rinsed with mouthwash, in order to get rid of the taste (and make me acceptable to talk to!), but I may have another go in a few minutes, just to be sure. What kind of a moron thinks that you put raw garlic into a burger?! Raw onion rings, perhaps, tomatoes, maybe, lettuce, definitely, but raw garlic?! I had been looking forward to that meal for twenty-four hours, and I am beyond disappointed. So sad that they cannot even be trusted to make the simplest of dishes. No matter how much warning/time you give them, they will still not produce what you asked for. Mum actually had to send her order back tonight, because it bore no relation to what she had ordered, either. And it took nearly twenty minutes for a replacement to arrive. Which was still wrong, but at least edible.

Everyone I have spoken to says the food on this ship is diabolical. People who have sailed on her before say that the deterioration has taken place in the last twelve months (some people like going away in November on a regular basis). I have not met one person who is complimentary about the food. The best I can find is ‘not bad/alright/okay’, which is hardly a ringing endorsement. Yesterday, the chefs paraded through the restaurant for their traditional end of cruise appreciative round of applause – their reception was lukewarm at best. The waiters, however, got a roar of cheers and applause. I’m sure the chefs heard the difference just as much as we did.

There may be a clue, in fact, in the parade we saw. Dad said at the time, “There’s not many of them, is there? Not like usual”. And he was right. They presented a skeleton crew at best. Maybe that’s why we have had consistently bad service (did I mention the day we didn’t get our hors d’oeuvres until 40 minutes after we sat down?), with delays in delivering food every night, and badly-prepared orders, as listed.  The food has also been bad cuts of meat, poorly cooked, under-cooked, incorrectly cooked, it’s shocking really. There’s no point in asking us to applaud them making 10,000 meals a day if the majority are inedible! This may have to go in the customer satisfaction questionnaire, methinks. It’s really not good enough. To be fair, inedible food is occasionally a good thing on a cruise ship, because the weight gain is thus limited a little, but not every night! I have never before, in all the years we have been cruising, been looking forward to getting away from the food served on board. But this time, I’ll be glad to get back to dry land, where I have at least the modicum of hope that what I order will be what arrives. Very sad indeed. Right, time to go and rinse again, I think.

Day Twelve.

Sea Day. At last.

Slept nine hours last night. We all feel a bit weak and wobbly/drained today. I call it barely upright. Scorchingly beautiful hot, sunny day today, blue skies, the works. Must enjoy it while it lasts, because we’re heading west and once we turn north, things will probably cool down pretty sharpish. People in contact with the UK have been using words like snow. This may be the last day I wear shorts for a while. Dad and I even sat on deck and ate Magnums, which was nice.

Last formal tonight, so had to spend time washing hair, dressing up – new dress bought in Gib – jewellery, makeup, all that nonsense. Felt very nice when all done, but, by ‘eck, it is a hassle getting there.

No quiz tonight, because the crew are doing a show. But we had a drinks party before dinner, and I managed to drink a good litre of orange juice – the only free cold/alcoholic drinks on P&O – so that was a job well done (you can have all the tea and coffee you want, as long as you’re happy to make it yourself). Didn’t win the crystal sweetie bowl, but not hugely gutted, frankly – how are you supposed to get these things home?! When they gave us all crystal vases a few years ago, they had to arrange shipping to everyone’s home address, because they weighed more than some people’s entire baggage allowance!

Then dinner, which was very nice. I had salmon, for a change. Everyone enjoyed their meal today, even Eddy, and he ordered a steak, which if his previous experience was anything to go by, was a risky choice. He ate every bit, although he said it was quite tough. But at least it didn’t get sent back, like the last one!

Tonight, in view of the weather we have been promised on our return to Blighty, we all told our stranded in the snow stories, and I told mine about the freak blizzard in Leeds, when I walked to work in t-shirt, shorts and sandals on a lovely sunny Easter day, worked in the basement for eight hours and came out to find four inches of snow on the ground and buses sliding backwards down the hill.  Mary and Eddy come from Scotland originally, so they had some tales to tell on the subject!

We turned right during dinner, and are now heading north. We are definitely moving about a bit more than before. Welcome back to the Atlantic, everyone. Maybe that’s why I can’t keep my eyes open – I’m being rocked to sleep!

Day Eleven.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day Ten – Barcelona

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

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

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

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

We then went to McDonalds for lunch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day Nine – Tuesday 17^th November

Monte Carlo, capital of the Principality of Monaco

They speak French here, which makes me happy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day Eight – Monday 16^th November

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day Seven – Sunday 15^th November – Ajaccio

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day Six – Saturday 14^th November – Sea Day

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

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

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

Not in the best of moods.

Day Five – Friday 13^th November – Gibraltar

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday: Ajaccio

Monday: Livorno (Florence/Pisa/Lucca)

Tuesday: Monte Carlo/Nice

Wednesday: Barcelona

Thursday: Cartagena

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

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

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

We won the quiz tonight, which was nice.