4th February 2015

We hit rough seas last night, with the cabin lurching around in every direction, quite the adventure when you’re cabin is perched right at the bow, way up on deck 8. Not ideal for those, like Sue, prone to the inevitable queasy spell. Luckily, we were spared a usual green-tinged morning. I often find the ship’s unpredictable rolls rather soothing, but now and then, a hefty wave would wallop the bow, sending shudders right through us. We had four of those rude wake-up calls last night! Still, Sue and I both managed a fairly decent night’s sleep, cocooned in our duvet fort.

The morning news on the cabin telly brought us right back to reality; an aircraft had crashed into a bridge in Taipei just hours earlier. The footage was as gripping as it was shocking. Miraculously, some people survived.

By 8:15 am, we were at breakfast, taking our pick of the buffet while the early-bird crowd of stick-wielding passengers were still gearing up for the day. Later, I joined the atrium’s reading brigade by the window, a book in hand but periodically distracted as the ship carved through some especially theatrical waves.

The day’s first lecture was a tour of the 1960s, hitting all the major events year by year. Mildly interesting, good for passing a rocky morning in one piece. Unsurprisingly, all deck-based fun was called off due to the choppy waters.

Later, I attempted a quick photo of the dramatic seascape, but to my horror, the camera wouldn’t click. I soon realised the battery was still on charge in the cabin, classic geriatric error! Worse, it seemed the tiny cover holding the battery in place had vanished. After a frantic retrace of my steps (and a few muttered oaths), I conceded defeat and prepared myself to fork out for a new camera onboard. Then, miraculously, Sue walked in from her coffee with a mischievous smile and that tiny piece of plastic in hand! My own personal Pocahontas had spotted it in the corridor. Panic averted.

Camera back in action, I captured the turbulent scene and met Sue in the theatre for a rousing performance of ‘Jersey Boys’. Lunch was in the Plaza, where we perched by the window, watching white-capped waves race past while Sue struck up a lively conversation with two ladies from Shropshire. Afterwards, we took a deck stroll, although the bow section was cordoned off, so we had to cross through the ship to complete our circuit. We ended up at the stern, basking in a bit of sun, watching the foamy trail from the propellers fade into the horizon.

A bit too comfy by then, we skipped the day’s events, piano recital, bingo, talent show, the works, and lounged with our books. When Sue’s wrist started acting up, she returned to the cabin, leaving me to my own devices with a bottle of ‘Old Thumper’. Eventually, I joined her, only to find our steward in wait, questionnaire in hand, clearly hoping for a stellar review. I reassured him he’d done brilliantly.

With it being a formal night, we donned our finest for the last time this trip. On the way to dinner, we picked up a photo taken a few nights back, and once at our table, we were all swapping notes on the truly abysmal singer from the night before. As we left, Jerry caught us to show off a painting he’d bought, a rather garish, oversized frame and all. Oddly enough, it was the same one we’d looked at earlier and passed on, at £6475; perhaps it’ll look better with some squinting.

To top the night, the Headliners put on a tribute to Queen that was leagues better than last night’s fiasco. I even got a chance to tell the lead singer her rendition of ‘The Show Must Go On’ was absolutely spine-tingling. And it was a far cry from last night’s dud. All in all, not a bad day for one spent navigating Poseidon’s temper tantrum.

We were in bed by midnight, and the seas were still choppy.