Cruise day 4

Awake to find the ship has stopped bouncing about – good, we must be out of The Bay of Biscay. At breakfast we meet some other Scots. They tell us they travelled down by train from Edinburgh and were pampered all the way – breakfast and lunch provided, big comfy seats, and only a seven hour journey. Bit pissed off that we didn’t know about this. Tut.

Off to book our excursions. We opt for the Panoramic Barcelona tour i.e. it’s a couple of hours on the bus. Mum’s done it before and I point out that we have the wheelchair this time, so could try something different, but she reckons this is still the best bet and she really just wants me to see The Sagrada Familia. We book Cannes and Nice and ‘the little train’ for Sunday and Rome for Monday. Looking at the tickets later, I realise that the Rome trip is nine hours long. Not sure Mum will be able to cope with that, but we’ll see. We decide to leave booking Corsica until later and are going to give Gibraltar a miss as Mum says it's not worth the bother unless you're after lots of duty free.

Get the crossword first then head up to sunbathe. The weather really is spectacular for the time of year. It gets too hot and Mum decides she’d rather just sit out on the balcony at our cabin because it’s got more shade. We haven’t used the balcony much – the man in the next cabin seems to be on his balcony all the time, smoking cigars that choke us, so we haven’t really been able to go out there. Sitting there we hear him on the phone – it’s like having a cabin next to Foghorn Leghorn. The person he’s talking to could probably hear him without the aid of the telephone.

‘Yes, yes – I’ll try to see you in Barcelona tomorrow. Can’t wait to get off this ship – it’s awful. There are people everywhere. We’re not leaving the cabin at all – having everything delivered to the room. The excursions are the only days we’ll venture out. It’s terrible. So crowded. Just can’t believe how many people there are.’

Eh, it’s a ship that takes over three thousand people and one and a half thousand crew – what the hell did he expect? We already hated him because of his stupid cigars. Now we hate him because he’s an idiot.

I decide to go to the gym. I’ve been and looked at it before, I've thought about it, I've talked about it, now it’s time to give it a go. If you’ve never been on a treadmill on a ship before, may I suggest you give it a miss? Although the ship isn’t bouncy anymore, it’s still shifting about a bit, so being on the treadmill is really unnerving. I’m holding on to the handles, sure I’m going to fall off, and I’m only walking. I give up and decide to just walk around the promenade deck until I feel like I’ve had a bit of a workout. I start walking and pass other people walking in the opposite direction. After I’ve passed them several times, I realise that they are walking for exercise too, but I’m the only one walking this way – apparently the wrong way. Nothing new there, really – if there’s a wrong way to do something, I’ll find it.

I get back to the cabin. Mum has come in from the balcony because, ‘That bloody idiot kept smoking cigars and talking rubbish, very loudly, on the telephone. I think there’s something wrong with him. He’s probably here with his carer.’

Time for tea and then Countdown. Check hair and height of waistband. All normal. Same woman wins Countdown again. There may be a riot. Entertainment officer announces that there will be no more Countdown until after the following four days of excursions. Anger is replaced by horror and disbelief. Someone wants to know why – after all, not everyone is getting off the ship. That’s just the way it is. Waistbands are hoisted up a notch further and they leave, dragging the toes of their brown leather sandals along the carpet, totally depressed.

It’s another formal night for dinner, but we decide to avoid the photographers – hands looking very fat tonight, and there’s the jowls, so no point in wasting time. As we get out of the lift, we see two women pushing two men in wheelchairs and another woman walking by their side. They all stop and point at my mum and go, ‘Ooooooooh. Stroke?’

Mum nods. ‘Yep – twenty years ago.’ The men in the wheelchairs look horrified, so I assume they have been affected only recently and were hoping for a complete recovery.

The woman who wasn’t pushing a chair comes up to Mum, pats her on the shoulder and says, ‘Aw, you are lovely. You’re doing very well, dear. Are you on holiday?’

Mum looks at me and tries not to laugh, then turns back to the, clearly mental, woman. ‘Eh, yes.’

‘Aw, good for you.’

They go off into the lift and we fall about laughing.

Mum’s hanging on to me. ‘Are we on holiday? No, we live here. On this cruise ship. All year round. And what the hell was all that about anyway? Did they want to start a bloody club or something? The stroke club? What a great laugh that would be.’

Definitely the most stupid question we’ve heard in a long time.

No general knowledge questions from the lads tonight, but the patter is good, as is the food. Richard and John are going to Barcelona on the same tour as us, but are more concerned about how they’re going to see the rugby match on the Sunday morning and are doing the rounds of the ship’s bars to find out if anyone is showing it. Yes, that’s why they’re doing the rounds of the bars. They head off to the casino and to their rugby quest; we head for mad Laura and her daft quizzes. No word of Delia Smith still releasing her godmother.

Back to the cabin – we have to be up early and plan to have breakfast in the restaurant so we’re ready in time for the Barcelona tour.

‘Is it Barcelona tomorrow?’

‘Yep.’

‘So we’ll have to be up early?’

‘Yep – I’ve set the alarm for 7 am.’

‘That should be fine.’

3 am. ‘Is that …’

‘It’s just the noise of the ship.’

It’s going to be strange getting off the ship – I’m used to it now and it feels … well, normal. But looking forward to Barcelona and going crazy... oh, and having our first cooked breakfast of the cruise. Oooooooh, will we cope with changing the routine?