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Grand Eventure Day 0

Well, Dad says Oriana arrived at 5am. I’ll take his word for it. We can see Oriana, Aurora, Arcadia and Ventura all lined up from our bedroom windows. From elsewhere in the hotel, you can also see Azura, Adonia and Oceana lined up on the other side of the quay. P&O have posted arial photos showing all seven in one photo on their Facebook page already. It is very misty and grey, which is a shame, because the photos are a bit vague. But the weather forecast is for it to rain all day and all night, so it’s going to be a challenge all day to get decent photos.

We went to dinner about 8.40am which was wise, because by 9 there was a significant queue building up. The breakfast buffet was very impressive indeed – cold meats and cheeses and smoked salmon (?!), black pudding, mushrooms, beans, etc., eggs fried in front of you by a chef with a frying pan full of oil, poached on request, and various fruits, juices, cereals and croissanty stuff. There is a do-it-yourself toaster, which although laborious and somewhat tiresome for the waiting, does at least ensure your toast arrives on your plate hot, rather than being delivered to your table tepid at best and quasi-refrigerated at worst.

Most people in the hotel are on the ships, so there is always someone to chat to. Dad and I went for a wander after breakfast, to try and find a good view. There isn’t one. We were just about to give up, when we bumped into a gentleman on the Ventura who took us out onto the fire escape (which he found the night before last when the whole hotel was evacuated at 2am and six fire engines turned up to try and find the problem), which was a sort of greenhousey area on the roof. Great views to both sides of the hotel, so of all seven ships, albeit in two photos, rather than one. Being in between the two mooring areas was always going to make photography tricky! Then, as we were heading back indoors, I spotted that one of the doors had been wedged open, so we went out on the roof and got proper pictures with no glass and raindrops in the way. Heaven knows how many rules we broke, plodding across the pebbles on the roof (not that many, probably, as there were deckchairs lined up, presumably for staff to use!), but very enjoyable, and that frisson of feeling a bit naughty, and going somewhere we probably shouldn’t, was nice too.
And then the waiting began. First the waiting and dozing in the rooms and then the waiting and drinking caffeine in the lounge area. Checkout of the rooms is 11am but the shuttle buses aren’t collecting us til 12.30, so everyone is a bit lost, wandering around like spare parts or desperately eking out yet another very expensive coffee (£3.50 for ordinary decaff, two quid for a diet coke) to while away the time. It’s sort of like disembarkation but in reverse. Instead of sitting around like lemons waiting to get off the ship, we are sitting around like lemons waiting to get on. Rumour has it, the Princess Royal and all the seven Captains will be having lunch on the Oriana, but I’m guessing they’ll be in the Captain’s dining room, not in with us proles.

Much, much later…

It’s half midnight. Well, to you, half eleven, but we’re losing an hour overnight. Like we’re not shattered enough. The shuttle bus materialised eventually and shuttled us such a short distance, we could have walked it, even with hand luggage. We boarded at Gate 101, which has a lovely stone entrance arch, on which are listed all seven ships. It took me a second to grasp it, but they are listed in AGE order, so Oriana first and Adonia last. Wow, brain ache. We did the usual dance you do, whether boarding a plane or a ship or a sneeze – passport, ticket, photo taken, boarding pass, scanner, metal detector, blah blah, and then, just to top it off, a walk of well over half a mile down an airbridge folded back on itself. Which is unnecessary and unkind. So to the cabin and collapse.

I have one of the newest cabins on the ship. They banned kids and removed the entire area of the ship which had been sealed off for brats only (this is not a generalisation, this is a specific and choicely chosen epithet)(they had their own play rooms, toilets, ball room (that’s a room full of balls, not a dance floor, a disco and a room entirely devoted to four Wiis), and turned it into cabins, including two SINGLE cabins. No single person 70% uplift here, because I’m no longer taking up a room designed for two. Hah! The cabin is lovely. With a wide bed, LOADS of drawers and cupboards and a wetroom-style shower. Superb.

Met parents for a very late lunch (half two?!) in the Conservatory, which has been refurbished. New furniture, somewhat dodgy new carpet but, more joyously, they have replaced the blown double glazing panels, so you can now see out the windows. Food (bang your hand on the new sneeze guards which are too low), drink (prices have escalated rather and now mirror the De Vere in exorbitant-ness), cabin, NAP. Absolutely worn to shreds. Slept an hour and a half.

Tried to go for a walk, but discovered one third of the ship, including four lifts (FOUR?!), cordoned off for HRH. V. annoying and v. tiresome.

Went to muster. This is where they explain what will happen in an emergency – what they do and what we are supposed to do. You are supposed to take your lifejacket from your cabin when you go. They are now taking it all VERY seriously (Costa Concordia) and get quite arsey with those who do not conform. The girl next to me refused to practice putting on her lifejacket and accused the staff member of talking to her like a child. She has a point, frankly. Particularly on this cruise, everyone has cruised before and we are all perfectly capable of watching a demonstration of putting the thing over our heads and closing the Velcro and wrapping the belt around ourselves, without needing to get up and have a go. The whole thing is both ludicrous and patronising, but they use the excuse that they need to check your lifejacket isn’t faulty. So when we are asked to put them on our beds for a fortnightly inspection, you don’t check them then, you just look at them and walk away, do you? I didn’t have mine with me, cos I was far too shattered to walk to the other end of the ship to get it, so I got a jolly good telling off too. But for these people, they get bossed about and abused all day every day by rude passengers. This is their moment of power. Go for it, get it out your system. No skin off my nose. I know you’re being an idiot and you know I know you’re being an idiot. And you know as well as I do that if there was a genuine emergency, I would handle the situation better than you, because I’ve done it for real, whereas you haven’t. So chill, really. Get over yourselves.

Anyway, out on deck for a glass of free shampoo and a streamer. Sailaway in the drizzle. Marvellous. Each of the seven ships hooted its whistle and pulled out in turn, with a confetti blower on the quayside and a small brass band running from one ship to the next to play us out. Threw streamer when ordered to do so. P&O colours – red, blue, yellow and white. Very pretty. Passed through a flotilla of about a hundred or so little boats that had come out in Southampton Water to see us. Escorted by police boats with blue flashing lights and several hundred people along the banks as well, flashes blinking in the mizzle. They must have been FREEZING. The mist made taking photos very tricky. I hope the “professionals” had more luck. I won’t upload here until I’ve seen their offerings tomorrow. Better pics will take priority over personal pride! The Red Arrows didn’t show up because the weather was too rubbish, but the fireworks barge had a separate little display for each ship as it passed. Once out in the Solent, past Portsmouth, we all (that’s all seven ships) sang Rule Britannia at the tops of our lungs and then we went our separate ways.

Eventually gave up and went inside for dinner. Was delighted to find Anne and Enid are here. They were with us last year on Arcadia (in fact, they’ve been on most of the cruises we have been on!) but they booked too late (although only days after we did) and were told they were 63rd on the waiting list to get on this cruise. But a few weeks ago, they got the phone call and here they are! Had a very pleasant meal, despite the somewhat recalcitrant waiter and the desperate lack of water glass refills. We chatted for four hours, including some significant chunks of reminiscing about Los Angeles immigration. Then mum went to bed and we (me, Dad, Enid and Anne) went to Tiffanys bar for a couple more drinks to the tune of some of the loudest and most strident piano playing ever heard, before we, too, called it a night.

And then I lost an hour. So it is now twenty to one and I really did ought to go to bed! Gnight. That, ladies and gentlemen, was the Grand Event. 175 years you waited for that. I do hope it was worth it.

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The Grand Eventure. Day -1

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.

Welcome to the De Vere Grand Harbour Hotel, Southampton. Where none of the staff wear name badges. An interesting start and not a little disorientating. You don’t realise how much you use name badges, and names, of hotel employees until they’re not there! Not one person, not front of house, not the concierges, not even management, wears a name badge. It’s very odd. I wonder why?

We arrived, pulled up outside the front door and were immediately pounced upon by not one but two very helpful concierges, one of whom put our luggage on a trolley and took it into the foyer for us. We registered at the desk with a girl with no name badge and were told that we were three floors apart and needed to use separate lifts! Turns out you can walk from one to the other without having to return to the foyer and change lifts, as she suggested. The second floor room has a lovely view of the sea. This is a point worth noting, I will explain why shortly. The fifth floor room does NOT have a sea view. Despite the fact that the reception girl wrote “WF” for Waterfront on the card for that room. Now, I am happy for my parents to have the sea view – it is only one night and if there is anything to see, I can go to their room, but I would expect the reception staff to know which rooms are sea view and which are not! Am I being unreasonable already?

Anyway, the room. The hotel is a lot like a P&O ship – a bit worn around the edges. Someone was a BIG fan of wine and gold as a colour scheme. The halls and rooms match. The carpet in the room is wine coloured with a sort of undulating basket weave effect in gold on top. Don’t look down while you’re walking across it, you may get quite dizzy, as it seems to swim about in front of you. The curtains are wine with a large gold diamond check. Not hideous, but not exactly pretty either. The walls were once gold but have now faded to pale yellow with a dubious red speckle pattern that would give a CSI investigator a hell of a headache. Not sure hotel rooms should come with ready-made high velocity arterial spatter on the walls… The furniture is all dark wood with old-style handles – the u-shaped ones that flop down after you let go. Like you find on proper antiques. But not. The room temperature is best described as sauna-esque. Warm and dry. Too warm and too dry. The windows are modern double glazing, with the paint scraping off the locks and the window sills are varnished wood that haven’t seen a varnish brush since God was a boy. The prints on the walls are dull and unimaginative, but they’ve faded so much, it doesn’t really matter. And the whole thing looks like it could do with a visit from the Hotel Inspector. She would be most annoyed! The mini bar contains precisely four containers of UHT milk and a phone number to ring if you want booze put in it, the freebie smellies are Gilchrist & Soames, and the bathroom is SPOTLESS. I definitely won in the bathroom stakes. Mine is about twice the size of mum and dad’s, and newer. Theirs is a little “désuet” (tired, think yellow grout and slightly more limescale than might be becoming for a hotel supposedly this posh).

We went downstairs for tea in “the glass bit” – the De Vere Grand Harbour is V-shaped concrete brutalism with a Louvre-esque glass triangular bit joining it up. They light it up pretty colours at night. Watching the rain fall on the glass sloping ceiling is very soothing, although it is not entirely warm. It is also rather sad that there is one pane that has been replaced and they seem to have found orangey-pinky glass to replace it, which rather ruins the water-like effect of the rest. We sat in a little alcove formed by flowerpots which oddly contains an iron gazebo. Not quite sure why there was a lump of broken glass on the side of the flower bed, but life is full of mystery, I suppose.

Dad described the staff as “plenty of people wandering around, all of whom are very helpful but all of whom are completely useless”. This is both accurate and useful and I will use this as my segue to now tell you The Tale.

Last year, when we were on the Arcadia, we booked this cruise. Being on board, we got first refusal before the Grand Event went on sale to the general public. At the same time, I asked the Future Cruises lady to book the De Vere – they were offering a package including the hotel stay and free transfers to the ship. I asked her to upgrade one room to a sea view –we would pay the extra – so we could watch the ships come in. She dutifully wrote this down and then neither she nor anyone else at P&O bothered to mention it to De Vere. Every few months, Dad rang the De Vere, because we had had no confirmation, and every time, they told him to talk to P&O. P&O said it was all up to De Vere. When I got involved, a couple of months ago, and started raising the stakes (and the volume), I was informed, with a completely straight face, that the De Vere staff could not see what types of rooms P&O had booked. Now, I’ve never worked in a hotel, but that sounds just plain silly to me. If you don’t know which rooms are booked, how do you know which rooms are still available to sell?! Tish and piffle. Never heard such nonsense. This “argument”, needless to say, did nothing for my mood, and things got somewhat irate. And then they said we couldn’t have what we had asked for, because they had “completely sold out” nine months ago. This despite the fact that I pointed out we had made our booking 14 months ago. It culminated with a man from P&O refusing to apologise, despite the fact that he admitted that he could see the sea view request on his screen, and when I asked him to send my mother some flowers, or something else, by way of apology for ruining her holiday, he said “What a shame we live in a world where everything can be fixed by money”. Bloody cheek. If I tell you that, when I get back, this is not over, would you be surprised? No, I didn’t think so.

In the end, having yelled at Gen at the De Vere a lot, she said she would give us first refusal if they got a cancellation. They got one THIS MORNING, so we got a sea view room after all.

So, the rooms are like saunas and the ground floor is uniformly FREEZING. Now, I understand the concept behind the belief that putting heating on when the front door keeps opening and closing, may be construed as somewhat wasteful, but we are in the lounge, not the foyer, it’s not our fault the entire ground floor is open plan with no doors except on the staff areas and the loos (nice and cosy, and probably the best bit of the whole hotel!) and I am actually losing the feeling in my feet. I think we need to send a press release to all hotel designers living and working in the British Isles. There really is no need or excuse for marble floors. This is not the Med, it’s the Solent, and it’s really rather parky. Well, 15 degrees, if the BBC is to be believed. In fact, I’m quite prepared to believe it’s even a degree or two colder in here. It’s certainly pretty draughty.

So welcome to the De Vere Grand Harbour. You’re welcome to it.

Update: After I wrote the above, my parents asked to change rooms, as they had been given a double, not a twin (as had been REPEATEDLY requested). Then I ran to reception and got Gen to put me in their room. So we both now have sea view rooms! So much for “completely sold out”. I got the slightly grottier bathroom, sadly. Now I need to go and see their new room, so I can compare again.

De Vere should really give Genevra Parker a promotion or a payrise. She is nothing short of masterful at fixing other people’s cockups. And she has volunteered to help in any way she can when I go after P&O, because they basically dropped her right in it. Good on yer, girlie.

10pm
Go on, guess.
2 soups
2 steak sandwiches
1 steak
4 soft drinks
1 sparkling water
1 side portion of chips

Go on, guess. You won’t come close.

EIGHTY-FIVE POUNDS.

The food was quite good, as was the service, and there was piano player lady to entertain us. In the bar, not the restaurant, though. No wine, no alcohol of any kind, no dessert. The mind BOGGLES as to what the proper restaurant would have cost. As Dad said, this is why people don’t eat in hotels they stay in. It seems counterproductive to me. Granted, you have a captive audience, but do you really have to fleece them for a meal in the bar at a cost that comes to MORE than the per person b&b room rate?!

If I didn’t need a lie down before the bill came, I certainly did afterwards. There isn’t enough free wifi ON EARTH to justify that sort of money for glorified bar snacks. Tut tut, de Vere.

Early night tonight. Tomorrow is going to be one heck of a day.

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Professional travel writer

I’m going to call myself that from now on. Having one piece published is nice, but nothing special. But two, now that’s starting to look like a pattern of behaviour. 

Here it is. Enjoy.

Please click here. (This will open in a new window)

On the basis that forewarned is forearmed, the next cruises will be on 2 July 2012 and 28 July 2012. I hope you’ll read and enjoy those blogposts too.

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Fame at last

I was asked to write a piece for Cruise International Magazine about the Alaska trip.

I wrote a piece. The editor hated it. I rewrote it from scratch. He was happy.

What appeared was a mishmash of the two submissions, along with quite a lot of text that wasn’t mine, several photos that weren’t mine and the most monumental editing error imaginable. If you don’t know the difference between Central America and South America, that’s fine, but don’t change my text, because I DO know the difference. To clarify, this trip went to CENTRAL America. I have never to my knowledge set foot in South America – it’s still on my List.

Here is the version as printed. Enjoy.

alaska article as published

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2011 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog, which was very nice of them.

If you like whizzy graphics, click here to see the complete report.

If you like plain text, simple facts kind of layout, see below. Enjoy.

WordPress.com presents cruisetheoceanswithemma
2011 in blogging

Happy New Year from WordPress.com!

To kick off the new year, we’d like to share with you data on your blog’s activity in 2011. You may start scrolling!
Crunchy numbers

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 4,000 times in 2011. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 3 trips to carry that many people.

In 2011, there were 75 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 120 posts. There were 120 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 229mb. That’s about 2 pictures per week.

The busiest day of the year was June 28th with 141 views. The most popular post that day was About.

How did they find you?

The top referring sites in 2011 were:

facebook.com
telegraph.co.uk
mail.yahoo.com
mail.airfox.net
gormano.blogspot.com

Some visitors came searching, mostly for cruisetheoceanswithemma, http://www.cruisetheoceanswithemma, and cruisetheoceanswithemma.com.

Where did they come from?

Most visitors came from Australia. The United Kingdom & the United States were not far behind.

Who were they?

Your most commented on post in 2011 was J103 Arcadia to Alaska – The First Bit

These were your 5 most active commenters:

1 hormiga 9 comments
2 Sheila and David 7 comments
3 Si 4 comments
4 judi zamos 4 comments
5 tj 2 comments Follow

Perhaps you could follow their blog or send them a thank you note?

Attractions in 2011

These are the posts that got the most views in 2011.

1 J103 Arcadia to Alaska – The First Bit April 2011
2 Punch ups and fires June 2011
3 The Fire – the follow-up (aka Yet Another Sea Day) June 2011
4 Sea Day 1 of 5? 6? Who knows? May 2011
5 Sea Day Bits and Pieces June 2011

This blog will continue, I hope (!), but you can contact me any time. The next cruise planned is in July 2012, for the 175th anniversary of P&O cruises, which will be both a shindig and a half and a fascinating insight into the monumental logistics of running a cruise line. Bringing all seven ships in the fleet to Southampton to toot their whistles (not horns, people, whistles) will be marvellous, but offloading 15,000 people and onloading 15,000 people possibly less so. Should be a laugh, whatever happens. Watch this space and thank you for sticking with me into 2012. Happy New Year.

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Rumbling on…

My dad wrote to several newspapers, asking them to do pieces warning their readers as to what they might expect if they go to the USA these days, immigration-wise. Forewarned is forearmed, after all.

He has had two responses so far. One from the wonderful Simon Calder (my idol!), travel expert extraordinaire, and also someone from the Telegraph. It seems that US immigration is currently a hot topic. Hardly surprising, considering how it is deteriorating. Surely there comes a point where the harassment handed out to incoming visitors becomes not just unbearable but unacceptable and untenable?

I may have forgotten to tell you that when the Head of Security took four crew and two passengers to the airport in Boston (one of which was his wife), it took over an hour to get the six of them through immigration. That’s TEN MINUTES EACH.

Even Dave Gorman has had problems. He went to LA recently for a tv recording. He travelled by plane, which is clearly getting to be just as bad as cruising as a means of arrival. His experiences can be found at http://gormano.blogspot.com/. The piece is dated 13 July 2011 and is entitled London – Los Angeles – Maidenhead – New Greenham (New preview gigs). He was stuck for five hours.

What on Earth is the matter with America? Have they somehow concluded that, since September 11th, it’s best just to not to let anyone in at all?! Or make it so unappealing that people will stop bothering? I don’t think they’re going to fix their economy if they persist in dissuading absolutely all tourism.

We’ll see how it goes, I suppose. If anyone spots a news article in a paper, magazine or online on this topic, please do let me know.

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Signs and Wonders

So, time to say goodbye to my lovely readers, at least for a while. I hope you have enjoyed the recent entries of my blog. It has been great fun to write, if nothing else! I hope to take another cruise soon, so watch this space… Of course, if the mooted idea of a book ever comes to fruition, I shall, of course, let you all know.

Of the exactly 4,200 photos I have taken to date on this cruise (not yet “pruned”, clearly!), several have been photos of interesting, quirky or funny signs that I have seen along the way. By way of a closing for this cruise, herewith a selection. Enjoy.

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Punch ups and fires

The night before last there was a punch up in the pub. I kid you not. Someone got a little inebriated and grabbed an officer, allegedly attempting to strangle him. Can’t imagine what you have to have said in order to provoke such a reaction, but there you go. Someone stepped in and held them apart and the passenger who was allegedly doing the aggressing wound up with either a broken nose, a broken jaw or a dislocated jaw. Take your pick.

Tonight at dinner, there was another Assessment Party call, this time for cabin D86. Someone has set fire to their cabin. Well done.

There has been one confirmed case of flu on the ship, for which Tamiflu was prescribed. This caused an adverse reaction in the person concerned and now everyone in the Medical Centre is now right on edge.

Tell you what. It’s all go on here, all of a sudden!

Edit: There are now LOTS of crew down with the flu. The Head of Security is Tamiflu’d to the eyeballs and the Captain is recovering but the Deputy Captain is now down as well. We’re getting more and more glad we’re getting off of here!

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Ponta Delgada

Welcome to the Azores, widely considered some of the most beautiful places on Earth. Good luck seeing it all in half a day though…

We got off at about half nine and hired a taxi for a tour of the west half of the island. We went along some of the windiest roads you’ve ever travelled, through thick sea mist/fog up about 2000 feet to the top of the volcano and then down into the craters. The roads are beautiful. Absolutely smooth, with no potholes whatsoever. Dad wonders if this is where all the EU money given to Portugal was spent! We went into the crater of the volcano that isn’t currently active, before you start raising your eyebrows. There are two lakes in the crater, separated by a small two-lane causeway. When the sun shines, one lake is bright blue, reflecting the sky and the other is dark green, reflecting the forest that surrounds it. It’s supposed to be an amazing sight. It doesn’t work in fog! Both were a murky dark green and, our driver, Richard, informed us, in his extremely broken English, deadly. They are so polluted by nitrates from the surrounding fields that if you swim in it, it will kill you. About nine or ten people have died trying to prove otherwise, which shows a degree of hope over experience that, frankly, beggars belief. Never heard of a test tube and some litmus paper?! Or just stopping people swimming in it after the first three or four fatalities?!

There is also another beautiful lake literally just down the road called Santiago, which is in another smaller crater of the same volcano, surrounded on all sides by forest. It is safe to swim in, although most people prefer to get a fishing licence instead. Sadly, they have allowed logging around the top, and the trees have been shaved off the hillside right in the middle of the photo you want to take, like a reverse Mohican. They have now banned logging here, but the damage has been done. It’ll take decades to recover. Nevertheless, the locals still come up here in December to pick a Christmas tree, as these conifers apparently smell particularly good (I think he called them Japanese Cedars).

Then through the pretty little village of Sete Cidades (Seven Cities – it barely had seven houses!) and then back to town. Almost all the buildings on Sao Miguel are made of basalt from the volcano. Because the basalt is black, they paint all the houses white or other bright colours, just leaving a basalt outline around the edges. They do this with all their buildings, including churches, ceremonial arches and shops. They also build their garden walls of the stuff, and paint white over the cement/ grouting, which gives a pretty, if slightly odd-looking, effect.

As an aside, our driver, Richard, told us about the foreclosures and problems that the Azores are having as a result of the worldwide recession. There was supposed to be a brand new five star hotel and shopping centre on the seafront. But the company went bust. So all there is a concrete shell that may never be completed.

He also told us that there is a major drug problem in the Azores. Not surprising, really, given its location. But even his son is addicted to drugs, at the age of 23. His daughter is only 17 and still at school, so he’s not worried about her yet. I also know that his mother died three years ago and his father died 45 years ago, when he was just 14, and that next December is his 25th wedding anniversary. It was a long drive to Sete Cidades. Oh, and 55% of the island’s energy comes from geothermal generation. Which is nice.

We then pootled what few shops we could find and then returned to the ship, just in time for the sun to come out. Typical. It is now five past bob and the sun is so scorching that, even sitting inside, with tinted glass to boot, I can feel my legs getting hot. Good old P&O. Now we leave and we’re heading towards rain showers. I hate this Captain. You just know he’ll make no effort to go around them at all, just plough straight through and to hell with the consequences. Can’t go out on deck anyway, as there is a very loud “British” sailaway party going on. Cheap Pimms and Union Jacks. Hideous.

They’ve just done a last call for the people whose cards have not been logged in at the gangway. One of them is called Heathcliff! There’s no answer to that, really…

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The Fire – the follow-up (aka Yet Another Sea Day)

Rumour 1: Arcadian Rhodes’ galley.
Rumour 2: A photocopier in the back office

Personally, judging by the smell, I think it was possibly a coffee machine.

Edit: Apparently, it was a printer. So now you know. Apparently, printers can burst into flames. And when they do, they give off quite a sweet smell, for some reason. Worth knowing…

It’s odd, but the quietest place on the ship is actually the place you would expect to be the noisiest. It’s the bar through which you have to walk to get from most places to most other places. But the Intermezzo bar has no music, no coffee machine, no cocktail blender and, for the most part, no people. Although they hold Spanish classes here in the mornings, after that, it’s just a thoroughfare. People may talk as they walk through or past, but for large chunks of time, there’s not a soul around. It also has, in my ever so humble opinion, the best wifi connection on the whole ship. So, ideal, really. In the past few minutes, only the chime of the lifts arriving around the corner have disturbed the silence. It’s lovely. [So silent, in fact, that I fell asleep for nearly an hour!]

It is also almost completely odour-free, which is more than can be said for the rest of the ship. Many parts of the ship pong to high heaven, with smells that vary in intensity, but all of which seem to centre around one of three smells –sewers or varnish, or, occasionally, cigarettes. Them’s your options. Trust me, finding an odour-free corner is an achievement in itself. In fact, dad has said on more than one occasion that you know when you’ve stepped back on board because you’re hit by the smells, even while you’re still out on deck. And his sense of smell is rubbish. Arcadia is, without a shadow of a doubt, the smelliest ship we’ve ever been on.

I’m sitting here, just watching the world go by (read: watching people pouring out of the dining room after lunch) doing some Sudoku and pondering life in general. I went up on deck with mum and dad in shorts and sandals but, although it was about 19 degrees, it was raining and a bit windy, so I went back to the cabin and changed and decided to stay indoors today. As far as I know, they’re still sitting out there with their feet in puddles. The weather forecast for Ponta Delgada tomorrow is 22 degrees but overcast. Jeans, I think, rather than shorts…

A quick note about currency. This is quite an important fyi for anyone who intends to travel on P&O. On board P&O ships, they will change your currency into local currency quite willingly and not at a particularly bad rate of exchange, either. And yet, when it comes to Euros, they will only deal in 5s, 10s and 20s. They will not deal in anything above a 20 Euro note. So if your bank gives you 50s, 100s or, heaven forbid, a 200 Euro note, you’re stuffed. They won’t break it for you on board. You’ll find yourself stuck trying to pay a taxi driver with, essentially, a 200 pound note. And they won’t appreciate it.

We have had plenty of people sharing our table during this cruise. Let’s see if I can remember them all: Sheila and David, Hayley, John and Ted, Monica, Betty and John, Carolyn and Bill, and now Sally and Bert.

Of those, no less than two of the men (note that it’s always the MEN that do this) have made it clear that they won’t eat “foreign muck”, that is to say, anything other than ‘British’ food. And, yes, they both used this actual expression. Foreign muck. Which is also rather rude. Now, you know as well as I do that the national dish of Great Britain is chicken tikka masala and that, only this week, pasta was voted the world’s favourite food (not rice!). So if you’re the type of person who refuses to eat anything remotely not roast and veg or fish and chips, are you missing out? Is there a point at which you have to say, ‘well, I’ll give it a try – it clearly doesn’t kill people’. Does none of it sound or look appealing in any way whatsoever? Doesn’t Chinese food at least SMELL inviting?

I can’t remember the last time we went to an ‘English’ restaurant. We got to mostly Italian, Chinese, Thai, French, Greek or Turkish. And I’m considered unadventurous among my friends. Is there even such a thing as an English restaurant? I suppose you could call the Imperial, down the road, English – they do roasts and stuff – but when we go there, we have salt beef sandwiches! That’s not English! Salt beef comes from Eastern Europe/ Scandinavia! Is an omelette English? It doesn’t sound English.

Or is it quasi-political? Is the not eating simply because it’s “forin” and to hell with whether it actually tastes good or not? I find the whole thing very confusing, and even more so when I try to work out what on Earth is left to eat if you take out all the “foreign muck” from the equation. So, let’s see. Pasta is out, curry is out – in fact, anything with rice or noodles is out. Even risotto is Italian. No nuts of any kind, no coconut. Cous cous is out, pizza is out. (You can tell I’m mentally going through my cupboards, can’t you?) No meat in breadcrumbs (veal, turkey or chicken) – that’s a schnitzel and so from Austria and therefore definitely out. Hang on, what about turkey? The entire species of bird is not native to England – they were brought over from India. Where do they fit?

Is steak and chips English or foreign? If I want a good steak, I go to a French restaurant. Does the hamburger count as foreign? Does American food generally count as foreign, for that matter? Or is anything “Anglo-Saxon” acceptable? Where does seafood fit in? Does fish have to be caught in British waters or have a British-sounding name? John Dory comes from the Pacific doesn’t it? Can’t get much more British-sounding than a fish called John, surely? Salmon may come from Scotland, but it is also very common in Alaska – it’s what the bears live on, for a start! So is it “British”? In the Azores, they cook a meat and veg dish called Cozido das Furnas. This is only meat and veg in another tongue. Is that okay or is that forin? They do cook it in a geothermal vent, though (using the steam escaping from a volcano), which you can’t do in Britain…

You can have ordinary bread, I suppose, but not bagels or challah or baguette or naan. What about granary bread? I’m sure they contain things like sesame seeds and poppy seeds, which are definitely not native to Britain. No paninis, that’s for sure, whatever bread you use. No matzah, although there are other “water biscuits” that might be British enough. I’m guessing Ryvita would be a no? Not sure where muffins fit, although I think teacakes, scones and crumpets would be okay. What about a ham and cheese toastie? That’s a Croque Monsieur!

And no ice cream or sorbets of any kind. Ever.

What about chocolate? The cacao plant is native to Costa Rica, I’ve seen one growing! What about fruit? Apples, pears and plums may be okay, along with strawberries, raspberries, blackberries and bilberries but oranges, satsumas, nectarines, peaches, bananas, watermelon, all the other types of melon, kiwi fruit, pineapple… nope, none of them.

What about wine? There is one very good English wine on this ship, but the rest is definitely from overseas somewhere. What about other forms of alcohol? Bacardi comes from Jamaica, cognac and champagne come from France, Malibu comes from the Caribbean, tequila comes from Mexico, vodka comes from Russia/ Poland, Curaçao comes from… Curaçao in the Dutch Antilles, Campari and Cinzano are Italian. I think even gin is made in France! I’ve seen one of these men drinking Scotch (does Irish whiskey count as forin?), but also “brandy”. Is it Courvoisier – in which case, that’s French. I’m not even sure there’s such a thing as English brandy, is there? What about tea and coffee, for that matter? Neither grow in Britain. So where’s the line there? ‘I won’t eat foreign muck, but I’ll drink it’? Should we just put the spaghetti in the blender?!

It’s all very weird and sounds desperately unappealing to me, and yet also at the same time rather primitive. It’s starting to sound like a very Olde Englishe diet – similar to how they might have eaten, say, five hundred years ago – although they didn’t limit themselves to this extent, they imported stuff, same as we do, it just wasn’t as common or as cheap. But why would you limit your life in this way? It sounds like a miserable existence! What could you possibly hope to achieve? Where’s the benefit? There must be one, somewhere, otherwise they wouldn’t bother, but I’m sure I can’t find it. I know for a fact* that you cannot die of spaghetti poisoning, so it’s not a safety issue. I daren’t ask at the table. So I’m asking you, my miniscule but loyal readership. Any ideas?

*Prove me wrong, I dare you.