When arriving in port, as soon as the ship’s thrusters engaged to ease the MSC Preziosa into its berth, the vibrations invariably woke us up. Today, that was at 6:30 a.m. Looking through our cabin windows, we could see very little; the fog was so thick it was a wonder we had docked successfully. How the crew at either end of the ship managed to see each other to tie up remains a mystery.

We had booked an 11:30 a.m. trip to Bruges and wondered whether we would see anything of this picturesque medieval city through the dense greyness.

We duly boarded our coach to the city, but the surrounding landscape was hidden beneath a heavy, thick blanket of moisture. Our guide provided a commentary, but we had to take his word that we were passing through a busy manufacturing zone and vast car parks containing tens of thousands of vehicles shipped from around the world. We tried to imagine the Polders, with their fields bare of crops and stark, idle windmills. Gradually, as we neared Bruges, buildings began to emerge like ghosts, sliding wraith-like into view through the mist.

We disembarked next to a park and entered the town via a cobbled path. It was bitterly cold, and the air was alive with fine droplets of moisture that froze our fingers and made our noses run. There were no distant views to enjoy; the tops of churches dissolved into the fog. Removing gloves to take a photo required careful calculation to limit exposure to the biting cold.

Our guide, a local fluent in five languages, was excellent. He brought Bruges to life with a commentary that added warmth to the icy scene around us. We followed him for two hours, gathering as needed to hear his descriptions, historical insights, and often amusing anecdotes about the sites we visited.

After exploring much of the city centre, with its cobbled streets, churches, and buildings, both public and private, hugging the many watercourses that thread their way through the town, we parted ways with our guide. Giving us a couple of hours to explore on our own, he would meet us again later.

Sue and I sought out a welcoming café, where we sat by a roaring fire and sipped hot chocolate accompanied by a small bar of

Belgian chocolate. Once the chill had been driven from our limbs, we wrapped up again and ventured into a few more of the tourist-packed streets.

We were surprised to hear distant singing and chanting, which grew louder as its source approached. A tightly-knit group of darkly dressed people came into view, their mostly male voices harmonising but sounding intimidating. These turned out to be Juventus supporters, in town for their team’s European match against Bruges later that evening.

Feeling the need for more warmth, we ducked into a nearby bar, where I sampled one of Belgium’s famous beers (8.5% ABV). Time soon ran out, and we made our way back to the meeting point.

Amazingly, no doubt due to the cold, everyone returned on time, and the coach departed promptly. On such a freezing day, no one wanted to risk being left behind and having to find their way back to the ship.

The thick fog that had obscured our outward journey had thinned just enough to offer fleeting glimpses of a damp, wintry Belgian countryside. It was not particularly inspiring.

Back aboard the MSC Preziosa, we relaxed for an hour before changing into the prescribed white attire, as announced in the ship’s magazine, and headed to the buffet for our evening meal.

The evening’s entertainment in the theatre was titled Rock Nation. It requires no elaborate description; it was excellent.