14th March 2013

The clocks went forward last night, and despite making it to breakfast, I still felt exhausted. It’s remarkably hard work putting on weight. Tonight promised Carnival festivities aboard ship, so at 10 am, Sue and I joined a mask-making class on Deck 10. Blank masks, paintbrushes, blobs of acrylic paint, and boundless optimism were provided; the rest was up to us. The results were… creative, though had we still been teaching, our efforts would almost certainly have landed in the “tries hard but has little talent” pile.

While we daubed away, a sudden tropical downpour swept across the deck. We were safely under cover, but those lounging in the pools and spas panicked, leapt out and sprinted for shelter. Odd behaviour, really, last time I checked, water is wet whether it comes from above or below. There’s nowt so queer as folk. As quickly as it came, the rain stopped, the sun reappeared, and all was back to normal.

At precisely 11:54 am, we crossed the Equator. Most passengers had gathered on Decks 9 to 11 for the traditional “Crossing of the Line” ceremony. Hand-holding, daft antics, Italian songs, and glitter cannons filled the air as Neptune and his wife made suitably solemn remarks (again in Italian, naturally). Afterwards came dancing and canapés, before Sue and I retreated to a quieter spot to finish our books. Later, we discovered certificates in our cabin commemorating our Equator-crossing achievement, an addition to my CV if ever there was one.

Books replenished from the ship’s library, we made our way to lunch, then later to coffee. I indulged in my usual quota of panini and ice cream while gazing at the endless horizon. Suddenly, the calm was broken by leaping shapes, a pod of dolphins, at least a dozen, escorting us with effortless grace before veering off into the open sea. A magical moment.

Sue dutifully attended a Pilates class in the afternoon before settling on deck to watch an albatross lazily circling the ship. Later, she joined the evening promenade on Deck 11 with the rest of the sunset strollers. I, meanwhile, made the more strenuous choice of lying on the bed and watching the telly.

Dinner was enlivened by our waiters, who broke into a Bollywood routine mid-service. Our waiter joined the fun, balancing two forks on a toothpick before fashioning a bird out of someone’s bill. You don’t get that sort of entertainment at KFC.

There was no theatre show tonight, so we settled into a bar where the resident dancers shimmied to music from the 40s and 50s. The real entertainment, however, came from watching large single Italian men and women making the most of any opportunity to grope the youthful dance crew. The poor performers had to smile bravely while being mauled, but the spectacle kept us chuckling for the rest of the evening.

Carnival proper kicked off later in the main bar. It began with a procession of children dressed as pirates, followed by the entertainment crew in their fairytale costumes. Then came the grand parade of mask-makers. Being British, and therefore allergic to unnecessary flamboyance, Sue and I kept our creations safely in her handbag. The audience judged the masks with gusto, and I am convinced ours would have earned an OFSTED verdict of “Overall Satisfactory”, with “Outstanding” for special needs provision.