6th February 2016

After breakfast, we took a leisurely stroll around the top deck. Another cracking day: blue skies, balmy temperatures, and the ship slicing through the steely blue Pacific, leaving a shimmering wake behind. Not a care in the world for anyone onboard, except for the age-old dilemma: “What shall I do next? “And, perhaps more crucially for some, “What shall I eat?” Priorities, right?

Our wanderings brought us to the climbing wall. We admired it from a safe distance and mutually decided, “Not today, thanks.” Next up was the wave surf machine. This contraption pumps an eye-watering 30,000 gallons of water per minute across a shallow pool, forming a man-made wave for passengers to ride on what can only be described as a snowboard’s rebellious cousin.

We watched as some brave souls took to the surf, with varying degrees of success, ranging from “professional surfer” to “human tumble dryer.” It looked like a right laugh and something I’d love to try… just not today. I’ll save that for when science finally gifts us the ‘Regeneration Pill’, fingers crossed it’ll be on the NHS by then.

This morning’s lecture on the fine art of manipulating people was both fascinating and surprisingly practical. The real highlight was meeting our first English couple, straight out of Leeds. There are 130 Brits on board, though spotting them is like finding a decent cup of coffee in a motorway service station. Of course, some of those “Brits” are likely passport-holders clinging to their Britishness while living in sunnier climes.

Post-lecture, we popped into the café for a coffee and a bit of fieldwork. Our test subjects? A lovely Australian couple we joined at their table. The wife was an open book, happily flipping through her life story for us, while her husband clammed up tighter than a jar of Marmite with the lid glued shut. He eventually caught on to what we were doing, muttered something about “getting some air,” and disappeared.

By the time his wife finally went off to track him down, we had her entire life story, family, hobbies, the lot, while she walked away thinking we were the most charming, fascinating couple she’d ever met. Mission accomplished.

At lunch, we decided to test our newfound skills again, and this time, we absolutely smashed it. Midway through our meal, we were joined by another Aussie couple. They were a bit hesitant at first, but soon warmed up, chatting away about home, family, and all the usual. A couple of times, they looked ready to leave but somehow stayed put, clearly basking in the glow of our irresistible charm.

Then came the jackpot. I casually asked what their plans were for the afternoon, and ‘bingo!‘ Turns out they were Gold Card carriers and proud members of the Crown and Anchor Club. They’d been invited to an exclusive sneak peek of a brand-new ice show at 2 p.m.,  a hush-hush affair for VIPs only. Naturally, they couldn’t resist showing off their invite cards and glitzy name tags, which were practically dripping with status.

Once we returned to the cabin, Sue had a lightbulb moment: “Why don’t we crash the show?” Brilliant! At 1:55 p.m., we hovered near the venue, watching the Gold Card elite parade past, flashing their invites and lanyards like medals of honour. Sue had a quiet word with security, sprinkled in oodles of charm (or manipulation, depending on your perspective), and next thing we knew, we were in. Another non-Gold Card holder managed to sneak in too, and surprise, surprise, it was someone I’d seen at our morning lecture. Clearly, the student has become the master. Watch your back, David Cameron; your job’s looking shaky.

The performance? Top-notch. No flashy costumes like the regular shows, just pure, raw talent. The skaters explained that, for once, they weren’t following a coach’s rigid choreography. Instead, they were skating to music they loved, performing moves they’d created themselves. You could tell they were loving every second of it, and honestly, so were we.

Afterwards, Sue retreated to her favourite reading spot somewhere on the upper deck by one of the pools. It’s her secret hideaway. Every time I’ve tried to find her, I’ve ended up lost, muttering about the ship being the size of a small country. I, on the other hand, kept things simple: I parked myself by a round window in the Schooner Bar. Easy to find, decent view of the sea, and most importantly, it serves beer.

Later, Sue tracked me down, and we lingered there for a while, enjoying some beautiful music played by a talented oriental duo, violin and acoustic guitar, a perfect combo. Every bar on this ship seems to have live music, so it’s a case of finding the one that suits your vibe. I stick with the Schooner Bar for the view, the tunes, and, let’s be honest, the beer.

The evening meal was a formal affair, so out came the DJ for me, and Sue donned her finest glad rags. We dined alone again, as the dining room was noticeably sparse. It seems the Aussies aren’t big fans of anything involving a suit or a frock; shorts, T-shirts, and a steady supply of food from the barbecue are more their style. Can’t fault them, though; they’re a cracking bunch despite their wardrobe rebellion.

After dinner, we ventured into a new bar, lured by the promise of karaoke. Big mistake. Three “singers” in, and it was less ‘The Voice’ and more ‘The Noise’. Each performance was an audio assault on well-known songs, so we gracefully retired before our ears filed an official complaint.

Seeking refuge, we ended up in Studio B for some rather adult entertainment, a game show called ‘The Quest’. Let’s just say it wasn’t exactly family-friendly. By sheer luck, Sue and I found ourselves in Team 2 of six teams. Without delving into the scandalous specifics (this blog isn’t rated for such content), I’ll just say we triumphed. Champions of questionable decency, if you will.

By 12:30 a.m., we were snug in bed, reflecting on a day of manipulation, mild law-breaking, and musical butchery. All in all, another eventful day at sea!