26th March 2013

The alarm was dutifully set for 6:45 am, but we managed to beat it by waking at 6:15 am. Clearly, our body clocks were already braced for the joys of travel day. The suitcases had been surrendered to the corridor the previous night and had mysteriously vanished by morning, hopefully into the bowels of the ship rather than into the hands of a particularly ambitious fellow passenger.

In our post box, we discovered the final cruise account. All was shipshape apart from a rogue mini-bar charge, which prompted an early-morning queue at the accounts desk. At 6:55 am, the line was already long, proof that disgruntled cruisers take their finances seriously. Thirty minutes later, the charge was found to be erroneous, and we were triumphantly reimbursed, victory for the honest traveller.

With that minor drama resolved, we returned to the cabin for hand luggage and set off for a hearty breakfast. As we tucked in, the ship glided into port under glorious sunshine. Just a few miles inland, the mountains were capped with snow, the wind howled along the deck, and the whole scene looked like the opening credits of a particularly frosty travel documentary.

By 9:10 am, we were installed in the theatre, waiting to be summoned ashore. Being on the transfer list to Nice Airport meant we were in the first group to disembark. Everything went smoothly, and soon we were on the coach, cases safely stowed, seated behind Jonathan and his mum for the final leg.

The two-hour journey traced the coastline, darting in and out of tunnels. At one point, as we skimmed past Monaco, we even spied a cruise ship below us, quite an unusual angle. Monaco itself looked splendid, the sort of place where it’s always sunny, nobody carries their own shopping, and even the pigeons probably have bank accounts.

At Nice airport, we needed to shuffle across to Terminal 2. Jonathan and his mum had an earlier flight, so we parted ways with handshakes and best wishes before settling in for a leisurely three-hour wait. Our BA flight was uneventful, with a pleasant snack to pass the time, before we descended into Heathrow’s traditional welcome: damp and miserable weather.

Bags arrived promptly, but the Hoppa bus made us shiver in the cold before it deigned to appear. Eventually, we reached the Holiday Inn, reclaimed the car, and pointed ourselves homewards. By 9 pm, we were through the front door, radiators on, hot water bottles filled, and a restorative cup of coffee in hand. After a week of sunshine, seafood, and shipboard serenades, Blighty welcomed us back with grey skies, frost, and a reminder of why we booked the cruise in the first place.