11th March 2016

Cruise ship musing: Four days adrift on an endless ocean of blinding, unforgiving sun and relentless blue. Our water stores are dangerously low, and the meagre catch of fish does little to sustain either body or spirit. The horizon remains heartbreakingly empty, no sails, no land, just the vast, indifferent sea. And always, the fear of pirates lurks, an unseen menace stalking the edges of our thoughts.

Young Tom, the cabin boy, has taken to his bed with a fever. It’s been days since anyone has seen him, his frail cries barely audible over the ceaseless whisper of the waves. Each hour stretches into eternity, and the question gnaws at us all: when will this hell finally end?

As you’ve likely guessed, life aboard the ship has settled into a predictable rhythm, and our fellow passengers have become creatures of habit. For some, it’s a simple cycle of eat, sunbathe, eat, sunbathe, eat, sunbathe, eat, bar, bed. Others follow a more varied routine of eat, lecture, eat, activity, eat, activity, show, bar, bed. Each has its own slight variation, but by and large, they stick to it, and the ship obligingly accommodates every preference.

There seem to be relatively few of us who scour the daily magazine for the day’s offerings, cherry-picking activities that take our fancy. Yet one activity unites all passengers, regardless of their chosen routine: eating. Each meal is the one guaranteed opportunity to encounter something new. That said, there are times when what you’ve selected vanishes, much like poor Young Tom!

What is there to write about today? We ate, attended a lecture, read (I finished my book), went to the gym, and then we watched a show. That’s pretty much it.

The highlights? Watching a chef skilfully carve vegetables into various creatures, chatting with a German couple over dinner, Sue is convinced they’re lesbians, though I wouldn’t know about such things, and listening to a fantastic Argentinian guitarist. Despite his resemblance to a young Maradona, his Spanish guitar skills were extraordinary and far exceeded any footballing prowess.

P.S. Sue insists I add that the lecture we attended, “Oman: The Incense Route, Once Upon a Time…”, was excellent.