13th January 2014

Well, what a night! I’m grateful we’re on such a massive ship, and for the Captain’s decision to steer us some 250 miles south of our intended course to avoid a Force 10 storm. Even so, the constant rocking of the ship, with the odd thud here and there, made for a restless night. Around 1 am, I ventured onto the balcony to get a glimpse of the storm. Mistake. Whether it was the rain or the sea spray lashing across the deck, it didn’t matter; I was instantly soaked and chilled. I beat a hasty retreat to the comfort of my pillow.

Curious about my little balcony escapade, Sue asked what I’d seen. With a mischievous smile from my cosy haven, I replied, “It’s great, you should have a look.” Like a fish on a hook, she took the bait. After a loud “Whooa,” she scurried back to the bathroom to repair the havoc the wind had wreaked on her hair. A few moments later, I heard a faint cry. Sue couldn’t find the door handle or light switch to escape our en-suite. Heroically, I left my linen cocoon to switch the light on for her.

The rest of the night was equally restless, with the ship’s tilting rocking us from side to side and our bodies involuntarily rolling left and right; it felt like we were doing the hokey-cokey all night long.

At 8 am sharp, from a deep sleep, I heard Sue open the balcony door once again. The ship was still rocking and rolling, though not quite so violently. We dressed and made our way to breakfast. Unsurprisingly, there weren’t many others around. We found a table with three gentlemen from the North East and chatted about the weather. Our table, positioned by a rear-facing window, offered views of the sea, which, though calmer now, still displayed mountainous waves.

After breakfast, we returned to the cabin to peruse the day’s programme of events and decide how to pass the time. Our first idea was to take a bracing walk along the deck. However, the decks had been roped off as unsafe. Undeterred, we stepped over the flimsy tape barring our way; if the crew were truly serious about keeping us off the deck, they could have done better! The cold and wind were biting out there. After snapping a few photos, making significant adjustments to Sue’s windswept hair, and losing feeling in our extremities, we retreated to the warmth and sanctuary of the inner decks.

After a warming coffee and feeling rather chuffed for resisting the mountains of food surrounding us, we browsed through the photos taken of us on board. We selected one where we were both smiling, had it framed, and I also picked up a new dickie-bow, as my extended neck girth had snapped my favourite one.

Our first activity of the day was a lecture on the Dutch influence in Manhattan. Surprisingly interesting! After another coffee to warm up, we attended the sequel to yesterday’s ‘Whales and Dolphins’ talk. This was especially engaging, as I was among the lucky few to witness yesterday’s dolphin sighting.

For lunch, we headed to the Golden Lion Pub. Sue opted for fish and chips, while I chose steak and ale pie, washed down with a pint of ‘Speckled Hen’, which tasted suspiciously like lager to me. While I caught the Manchester City v Newcastle match on the bar’s screen, Sue went to watch ‘White House Down’ in the cinema. I’d already seen it and wasn’t in the mood to see the President save the world again! Afterwards, I retired to the cabin to keep my pillow company.

Around 3:30 pm, I trotted down to the theatre to catch up with Sue for a coffee, but as luck would have it, she’d dashed off to another gemstone seminar, and I missed her. Unaware of this, I assumed she’d made her way to the Lido for tea and cake (a favourite pastime of hers), so I went to surprise her. She wasn’t there, so I made myself a coffee, which, in her absence, turned into a plate of pasties with an assortment of side dishes that guilt prevents me from listing. Fully satisfied, I returned to the cabin, where I found her. She reported that the film was rubbish, but the seminar was wonderful (her exact words). With that cleared up, we went for coffee together, searching the waves for whales and dolphins as the sky darkened.

Back at the cabin, we caught up on BBC News 24 before changing into formal attire for dinner. The seas were growing rougher by the minute; I hadn’t staggered so much since my last round of half a dozen pints of strong beer!

At dinner, we chatted with our fellow tablemates, but it soon became clear that Sue wasn’t feeling her best. She managed a bowl of soup and part of her main course before having to return to the cabin to lie down, before things got worse. I joined her shortly after the cheese course. By that time, the waiters were beginning to struggle, and the other passengers, dressed like penguins, waddled down the corridors, bouncing off walls in their attempts to stay upright. As with the night before, I was relieved not to have chosen the 9:30 pm dinner sitting.

The evening performance of ‘Vanity Fair’ was cancelled in favour of a stand-up comedian. Oh really? The Entertainment Director clearly has a sense of humour.

Sue felt well enough to rise from her bucking bronco of a bed and join me on an equally amusing pinball-style walk to the theatre. The comedian was brilliant; despite the ship’s violent lurching, he kept up his impromptu repertoire of classic English jokes, playfully sending up the various nationalities in the audience. By the time the show ended, the ship’s erratic movements had everyone clinging to the railings and bannisters as we left the theatre. We decided against coffee or any other treats, as they were at the other end of the ship, and Sue wasn’t sure she could hold onto what she’d already ingested on such a perilous journey.

Back in the cabin, I believe my pillow was genuinely pleased to see me. The clocks go back again tonight, and tomorrow, we’re promised a view of the Azores and a right turn (so the Captain says).