17th March 2013

We sailed through yet another time zone last night, which meant yet another hour of sleep stolen from us. Miraculously, we still managed to stagger into breakfast by 9 am, slightly bleary-eyed but victorious.

The morning’s entertainment began with another quiz. We came second this time and were rewarded with Costa wristbands, though what they entitle us to remains a mystery. Free cocktails? Priority lifeboats? I’ll let you know if we ever find out. As luck would have it, we bumped into the winning contestant later in the bar. She was all smiles, but I pride myself on being a good judge of character, and I’m fairly sure she cheated; she had narrow eyes. Probably smuggled in an encyclopaedia under her sunhat.

Later, during the morning, we crossed the Tropic of Cancer. This momentous event was marked with more music, more dancing, and an excessive quantity of glitter being hurled skywards. For reasons never fully explained, it was also declared to be St. Patrick’s Day. When the compère asked the two Irish passengers on board to reveal themselves over the sound system, they didn’t. Sensible call.

After lunch, Sue and I went to a seminar on ‘Life Aboard for the Crew’ and the history of the cruise line. It was rather interesting and, best of all, didn’t end with a pop quiz, the wearing of a compulsory name badge, or an evaluation form. A rare educational triumph at sea.

In the afternoon, Sue attended something called “Elegant Tea,” where she met Jonathan and his mother. They bonded over dainty cakes and exotic blackcurrant tea. I, on the other hand, stayed in the cabin with my book. They weren’t serving coffee or cheese, so frankly, what was the point?

Dinner that evening had a black-and-red theme. Sue looked stunning in her red outfit, while I dutifully donned black. Sadly, very few fellow diners bothered with the dress code, so we looked like the cruise ship’s lost tango duo.

Entertainment came in the form of “Roman Night,” a talent show where the passengers played Caesar, Cleopatra, and lions, deciding which acts earned a thumbs up or down. There were five acts, none of which would have survived Britain’s Got Talent auditions, but since everyone’s technically on holiday, generosity was the order of the day. Only one poor soul was metaphorically fed to the lions, which, in my opinion, was a missed opportunity.

We rounded off the evening with coffee in the bar, chatting with our dining companions, who (as always) arrived fashionably late.