Wednesday's chocolate

Wednesday 15th May, Continued

We woke up this morning to slightly choppy conditions – actual wind = fresh gale, apparent wind = strong gale. We therefore eased back on breakfast: toast with yeast extract for me and porridge for Matt. It was too cold to sit out on deck (I had even put socks on today) but we had a walk around the prom deck and watched the crashing waves. The power of the sea really is immense.

 

I went to the library before lunch today (as well as going to the £7.99 “sale” where I got a lovely fuchsia pashmina). Usefully there was a book about the wildlife of the Mediterranean. It doesn't feature any humming birds but I managed to deduce that what we had seen in Gibraltar was probably a humming bird hawkmoth. Additionally, one of the lizards wasn't a lizard at all but a Moorish gecko.

 

After lunch (nice but not notable apart from the giant feta samosa that I'm hoping to recreate some time and that some of the people we sat with were raving about last night's Phil Collins tribute and that some other people who were were sitting with get a new caravan every year – so they're the people who keep the caravan salesmen employed) we positioned ourselves on the sun loungers by the covered pool. The sun was coming out a bit now so it was pleasantly warm but easy enough to find a slightly shaded spot to avoid the need for sunscreen application. We spent an hour or so reading – both of us are on target to finish books today – and then headed off to the chocoholics buffet. I was bad influence here – Matt claims he would happily missed it. But the queue to get into the restaurant was massive. I like chocolate, but not that much. Matt loves chocolate but has somehow started showing a new display of will. So instead of going to the buffet we wandered around a bit.

My thighs were aching from yesterday's hike so we cheekily used the lifts (or elevators as Matt has mysteriously taken to calling them). Everyone in the lifts seems to be very subdued and Matt has taken to holding forcefully cheerful conversations with them. As we wandered around we happened upon the “galley walk through”. They open up the kitchens so you can have a peak behind the scenes (not the full behind the scenes tour which I was not about to fork out £75 for – that's a lot of tea-towels).

 

It was staggering just how big an operation it is – over 13000 meals a day for the passengers and crew. And the amount of food that is consumed is huge – disgusting almost. In particular I have contributed to the 3.5 tons/tonnes (I'm not sure whether imperial or metric!) of cheese and 4000 litres of ice-cream that are consumed in a typical fortnight. But not at all to the 40 tons/tonnes of meat, or the 7200 cans plus 4908 litres (draught) of beer. Lentils and beans to not feature on their list of consumption but I have probably had more than an average quota of the 80 tons/tonnes of fresh fruit and veg.

They'd done some watermelon carvings to decorate the galley as we walked through which I was really quite taken with. And lo and behold the galley walk through ended up at the chocoholics buffet – no queue at all. It was impressive to see it all but I was quite restrained and had a small piece of swiss roll and a slice of black forest gateau (I actually would love to go to the Black Forest to eat this type of cake in situ) – delicious. Matt continued with his newly discovered will power, didn't take a plate and had just the chocolate lattice from the top of my gateau.

Tuesday's choices

Wednesday 15^th May

Dinner last night was a mixed affair. One of the couples we sat with was older and both man and lady were impossible to engage in conversation despite the best efforts of Matt and I and everyone else on the table. They left before pudding to “catch a show”. (They could at least have stayed and ordered puddings which the rest of us could have shared.) The conversation flowed freely amongst the rest of us – one recently retired couple (Jackie and Ian) and another (shock horror!) still working (Janine and John). Janine is going to be 50 next year – she didn't didn't look a day over 38, and I didn't just say that to be nice, she really didn't.

We discovered that John's Aunty and Uncle used to own the pet shop in Hythe (very close to where I grew up). We talked lots and lots – I can't remember what about. We also laughed a lot. It was a really relaxed evening.

After dinner there was no dancing – a night off for our dance hosts. And after our day it was probably good that we were giving our feet a rest too. Our choices for this evening's entertainment were:

• A Phil Collins tribute act – eliminated. Vetoed by Matt
• A comedian (a different one to before) - possible
• “An evening at the races” - eliminated. It sounded a bit complicated
• A vocalist from the ship's theatre company – eliminated. Risky
• The ship's orchestra playing “east listening jazz” - possible
• The syndicate quiz – eliminated. Not likely to be successful in a team of two, especially when that team of two is Matt and I and we know next to nothing about sport and great swathes of popular culture
• A cocktail pianist – eliminated. We'd seen him already, he was excellent but was playing until late so we could always catch him after

We came to a consensus to try the comedian. He was very good and as a bonus the venue was our muster station – the captain had warned us that it would be getting a bit choppy so we would already be in place should we need to evacuate into the lifeboats.

Tuesday's walking

Tuesday 14th May, continued

I would say it was the hottest day of our trip so far, and definitely the most humid. Therefore it was probably not the best day to be on an epic march around a double-sided cliff, but that's just the way things turned out. The Mediterranean Steps were marked on our awful touristical map with a line which, based on the distance we had covered so far, might (obviously there was no scale) be about 800m. They turned out to be an immense zig-zag path, up and down and roundabout. Under normal circumstances I would probably have dawdled a lot, but we had a boat to catch so had to take it at quite a pace, since we didn't know how long the walk actually was. We didn't want to be the Felicity and Terence of Gibraltar.

We made it to the end of the path and had to decide whether to descend to walk into the town (via “Engineers Road” - that looked about as scenic as it sounds), or ascend back up to the cable car station and take the down trip to the town. We had two hours to make it back to the ship. Some local men came to the consensus that it would take about an hour to walk to the cable car station. We decided to risk it, we had after all bought return tickets. So we started our march – this route was at least tarmacked which was an improvement on the Mediterranean Steps' shrapnel.

We'd not long been going when I was driven into by a mini-bus. This could have been really nasty, I was right on the side by the cliff edge and it was going reasonably fast, but fortunately I was only clipped by the wing mirror. I was lucky that I was able to keep my balance and come away with just a bruise. Matt, who is usually the most mild mannered of men, was livid. I was just a little shaken and sore and crossed over to the other side of the road – maybe I could get a matching bruise on my other arm.

We made it to the bottom of the cable car line with about an hour left to return to the ship, and I was now feeling slightly heat stroked. We'd been walking fast (we made it to the top cable car station well ahead of the one hour estimate we had been given) and I hadn't drunk enough. Plus the downwards cable car ride had left me feeling a bit wibbly.

I revived myself with an ice-lolly and we were left with just enough time for a little bit of shopping on the way back to the ship. Having started the trend for souvenir tea-towels in Ajaccio I got another in Gibraltar and, to really make my day, a souvenir hand towel too. Gibraltar is famous (well my mother-in-law told me) for cheap duty free. Neither Matt nor I are big drinkers but if we were going to buy any spirits any time soon now would be the time to do it. I inspected a one litre bottle of quality branded vodka priced at £5.95. Matt wondered what the difference between this one and the one next to it was – other than the price and the colour of the label. The difference was about 10% proof. We've now got a litre of 50.5% vodka – it was only 80 pence more which seemed like good economics. I also picked up a bottle of Angnostura bitters, a dash of which seems to be required in lots of cocktails.

Once we were back on board we had to endure the spectacle of the “Great British Sailaway” - everyone with their Union Jacks doing bacd karaoke to various well known tunes from around the British Isles. Lewis the cruise director was in his element. I was tempted to stay to enjoyed a Pimms but Matt and I grabbed a pizza and chips and headed to the relative sanctuary of the Ocean Deck.

Moored opposite was a French cruise ship – many passengers there waving cheerfully at us. I'm sure they must have wondered what was going on. Matt and I resisted the temptation to do a rendition of Les Mis for them. I had the misfortune to spot a not young, not slim Frenchman (at least I assume he was French) on his balcony in a white thong (the pant type, not the flip-flop type). The “why does he have to do that” level on a par with the not young, not slim, British men who insist on frying themselves on deck in only a pair of branded sporty swimming trunks. They don't look like they've done any sport recently. The not young, not slim, French man would be higher up the disgusting scale were it not for the (thankful) fact that he was situated at a more reasonable distance from me.

Tuesday's apes

Tuesday May 14th

Today's port was Gibraltar. I did not have particularly high expectations and was therefore extremely pleasantly surprised. We didn't dock until midday and were prepared to be in the first wave of disembarkation. I had even packed my anorak as the captain had warned us that there might be a shower later in the afternoon – this might be my opportunity.

Matt had visited Gibraltar several times before but had never been “up the rock”. This was surely a prime example of Something High To Go Up, and he was determined not to miss out this time. Unimpeded by age, girth or impractical footwear (or a combination of these impediments) Matt frog marched us through the town centre towards the cable car station – he was committed to beating the queue that he predicted would form.

There was no queue at all and we even secured prime position at the front of the cable car. Most cable cars appear to be built in Switzerland (at least European ones – I can't speak for other continents). The origin of this one wasn't obvious which made me slightly nervous.

I was amazed to spot apes (the fabled Barbary Macaques) on the way up. I thought that this would be a disappointing fauna based touristical trap; often when you are told that a certain species lives somewhere and you go to spot it there is no trace (e.g. marmosets on an Island just off of Dubrovnik).

Once at the top we had a good look around at the view. I could see that this was going to be one of those days that if I didn't take control of the camera we would not be going to get much exploration done. Matt agreed so once I was tooled up with the photographic equipment we set off to walk around the nature reserve. Unlike Gibraltar town (which was full of British style signposts), the nature reserve was not well way-marked. Coupled with a particularly useless touristical map we would mainly have to rely on an innate sense of direction, an asking other people (and hoping they told us the right way).

Nature report 4

• 
  The Barbary Macaques were truly amazing – the only “wild apes” in Europe. They are clearly not totally wild as they seemed to be quite used to the tourists and someone seemed to provide food for them. Raw potato appeared to be a particular favourite and I can't imagine that tourists take this up the cable car to feed them. I assume that the £500 fine for feeding the apes does not apply to whoever dishes out the raw potato and vegetable peelings.
  
  
  
• I have been fascinated by monkeys (although these are referred to as “apes” they are in fact taxonomically monkeys) since I was little. I love to watch their behaviour and expressions. Today we saw some who were quite vain and seemed to enjoy posing for photos. One little one was a right bully and was terrorising a slightly older one for food. I would have liked to have thought that they were just playing but the bigger one really did look annoyed and looking at others who clearly were playing this little one really was a menace. (Sorry about the anthropomorphism but I think it can be excused with primates.) I saw one who was scratching his head in just the same way that Matt does in the morning. The old men of the tribe just laze around watching what's going on.

• The Rock of Gibraltar is effectively a double-sided cliff. Having not been troubled by seagulls at any of our previous stops it was inevitable that as soon as we were back on British Territory they would become an issue. I used to tolerate seagulls but ever since a particularly unpleasant experience in St. Ives on our first wedding anniversary when one stole my yeast extract sandwich I have positively disliked them. I am now wiser than to eat in their presence (which can limit the locations for ice-cream enjoyment). But today's challenge would mainly involve avoiding being dive-bombed. I suppose this was understandable really because our walk around the double-sided cliff took use very close to their nests, but their swooping was quite scary and I was convinced that the best I could come away with would be seagull poo on my lovely new hat. Fortunately we both avoided the dive bombing, or a more vicious seagull attack, and the closest I came to seagull related injury was when I took a little stumble whilst trying to avoid one that was coming right for me.
• We took an exceptionally scenic route around the “Mediterranean Steps”. The wild flowers were stunning. Apparently there are over 600 species of plant in the nature
  
  reserve. Some were familiar – thistles, cow parsley, those things with dandelion-like flowers but that aren't dandelions (smaller flowers and longer stems) – but lots were unfamiliar. The smell was gorgeous and the whole scene spectacular. Sorry about the density of use of complimentary adjectives but it really was beautiful.
• The flowers were obviously a great attraction for insects. Having been troubled the whole of the previous day by a midgie bite on the back of my leg (which I managed to just about keep under control with more frequent than recommended applications of steroid cream) I was a bit worried that I would acquire another insect bite / sting today. I needn't have been concerned as the insects were much more interested in the real flowers than the ones on my dress, and I think that the yellow and black buzzers were bees rather than the more malicious wasp. There were loads of pretty butterflies – mostly ones that I had not seen before but there was occasionally one of the ubiquitous cabbage whites (I think they might be the grey squirrel of the butterfly world).
• We might even have seen a humming bird. Even if it was just a big insect that looked like a humming bird it was very impressive. Unfortunately it was very camera shy but I'm planning on going to the library to try to identify it.
• There were lots more lizard sightings too.

Sunday's colours

My unexpected trip eastwards had ended up being much less sombre than I had anticipated. Apart from the semi-planned part of the weekend (involving venturing as far east as Southend) I had time in London “at leisure”, as they might describe it in a holiday tour brochure. My friend Alex had kindly put me up on her unexpectedly comfortable sofa at unreasonably short notice and I spent a lovely Friday night catching up with her (and drinking the best de-caf tea in the known universe). There were a few options for Sunday but number one on my list of things to do would be to see friends. So I sent my friend Char a short notice message and incredibly she was free. We made no plans apart from that until Saturday, and then came to the conclusion that, based on the time I was likely to leave Alex's (Alex enjoys a lie in) and the time I had to catch a coach, we would be wise meeting for lunch in a south London location.

That was until this morning when Char texted me to ask if I'd like her to “do my colours”. For about the last 18 months Char has been running an enterprise doing colour (and more recently style) analysis, mostly around south west London. I would generally place myself in the very unstylish and unbothered category (apart from on very special occasions) so this is something that I would never have considered of my own volition. But, I'm generally open to new ideas and this was not only a new idea but seemed like a good idea. Char is after all an award winning colour consultant so I would be in good hands. She's undergone extensive training so hopefully some of her memorable teenage “fashion” statements would not be an indication of what was in store for me. (In fairness I would now class her as the best dressed of all my friends.)

I don't know what being prepared for a colour consultation would involve but I didn't feel it. I was feeling pretty gross from travelling across London in high humidity conditions and had failed even to brush my hair this morning (well all weekend as I had forgotten a brushing implement). But Char, as always, made me feel at ease. This was achieved in no small part by the offering of a beautiful platter of sandwiches – food will usually make me more relaxed. I learnt something that I didn't know about Char before (despite being friends for nearly 20 years) – she doesn't really like crusts. (But she has curly hair so that disproves that theory.)

Char started by explaining to me a bit of the history and theory behind the colour analysis. It's based on Munsell's theory of colour, which will probably be familiar to anyone has started art. This was developed in the 1900s and states that there are three elements to a colour: clarity, depth and tone

The first step in the process is to determine your dominant colour type: soft, clear, deep, light, warm or cool. Char showed me pictures of celebrities typical of these and I correctly guessed that I was a “deep”, although I was also sort of thinking clear, until I saw Colin Firth and decided that I quite resembled him – he's also a deep. Char then worked out the rest of my theme by some fancy work with squares of fabric. It turns out that I'm deep, warm and clear.

Then we moved on to make-up. Most of the time I don't wear make-up (unless it's a special occasion) and when I do I am not particularly confident with it. I tend to stick to what I know and play it very safe with mostly brown colours on my eyes (with the notable exception of my Strictly Come Dancing make-up for relevant occasions) and nothing more than a subtle lip gloss. So I was both nervous and excited about what Char would do. I was keen to find out something new to do with my eyes. I didn't have anything very glamorous planned for the rest of the day (a 5.5 hour coach trip would be anything but) so I wanted something that I could carry off without feeling too conspicuous. Char did an amazing job. Possibly the best make-over I've ever had (admittedly I've not had many). She created a gorgeous look in just the right shade of green with my eyes. Apparently I've got very flickery eye lids which impedes the application of eye-liner, but she did an excellent job and didn't poke me in the eye at all (unlike if I put my own eye-liner on). But the wow factor really came from the lipstick. As I said, I'm usually a lip-gloss only person – I don't even own a lipstick. Char was more than happy for me to go for this option today but if ever there was a time to try lipstick out now was that time. She got out “Sheer Nutmeg” - in the stick it looked horrific. On my lips it looked stunning.

Char then spent some time showing me all my best colours, starting with my neutrals. Apparently I'm one of the few lucky ones who can get away with black – which is useful. I can't imagine trying to shop without being able to put black in my wardrobe. But there were some other rather lovely neutrals in there like chocolate (mmm) and charcoal which I'm going to keep more of an eye out for. Char also had some really useful tips about whites – I'm better off in ivory and soft white. Which might explain why I generally looked so dreadful in my school uniform.

As we went through my colours (with the assistance of a huge array of cotton swatches) I was pleased it included quite a few that I favour at the moment, like true blue which I liked so much even before I'd been analysed that I bought a matching hat, dress and bikini. My colours also included lots of reds which I was very happy about as I really enjoy wearing red. But even more exciting was finding out about some colours that I could try that maybe I've shied away from before like watermelon (the inside colour) and emerald green; and some great combinations like dark navy and clear salmon, and lemon and charcoal. Best of all was finding out my “wow” colours including mustard (yes really, so now I can wear it as well as cook with it), true blue (so I got something right), scarlet (hurrah) and the purple + pumpkin combination (it's going to take some guts to go out with that on).

We finished off with some scarf action. Char showed me how to tie the “twisted necklace” with a red scarf and then gave me a tutorial on the “pretzel” with a purple scarf. I felt amazing and really enjoyed my “after” photo shoot – it was an absolute transformation, but I was still me.

The make-up lasted all the way back to the South West. Matt, my husband, seemed to quite like it but very tactfully he said that I was hard to improve!

I can't wait now to have a root through my wardrobe and get rid of all those things that I haven't worn for ages. I knew there must have been a reason that I didn't wear them and maybe it's because subconsciously I knew that they are the wrong colour for me. The charity shops are in for a treat (as long as it's not deep people hoping to pick things up). But getting rid of clothes means making space for new ones and for the first time in ages I'm actually looking forward to going shopping (usually an activity that comes from necessity rather than pleasure for me), armed with my hand bag colour wallet an adventure in colour awaits me. Maybe you'll even spot me in purple and pumpkin before too long. With some sheer nutmeg lipstick.

http://www.chicbycharlotte.com/

Monday's black and white

Tuesday May 14th

It was black and white night last night. Which means there are a lot of people wearing black for whom it doesn't really suit, and a lot of people wearing white for whom it doesn't particularly suit (I have learnt this from my very chic friend Charlotte). Neither colour goes well with the lobster skin colour which is the look that a lot of people were going for after a day in the sunshine (obviously without sufficient factor 30); but you've got to be especially wary of men in white tuxedos.

We had dinner with a lovely middle-aged couple called Trevor and Patty (I got excited initially when I thought it was the people left behind in Cartagena) and a difficult-to-age lady travelling on her own. She was almost the opposite of Susan from the night before. I imagine that this lady (who shall remain nameless) got “rich” (she cruises a lot and has that “considerably richer than you” air about her) from an acrimonious divorce. She was very bitter towards a lot of people. She left the table early as she had to get back to the casino. Which left us to have much easier conversation with Trevor and Patty.

Hythe Pier

Patty is a big fan of online group deals and they had recently spent a night in a hotel in the New Forest. As coincidence would have it they had visited Hythe – just a mile or so from where I grew up. She had loved it and was thrilled that my mum is currently the lady mayoress of the parish. I gave them a bit of insider information (where they can park for free) and I think they plan to return to visit the pier and take the ferry and maybe go to the market. I hope the market's still going.

The meal was notable for two things in particular:

Pina Colada Soup

• Soup: There is always a choice of two (between starter and main, it's not compulsory) and today's choices were roasted plum tomato or chilled pina colada. I can eat tomato soup anywhere so went for the pina colada. It was interesting and not at all unpleasant but I'm not sure it's something that I'll be trying to recreate.
• Cheese: A cruise is potentially hazardous for a cheese lover such as myself.

  

  Cheese and biscuits

  You can have cheese and biscuits every evening of you want but I've tried to limit this to formal nights only. They bring out a board with lots of choice and it's just too difficult to pick one or two so I invariably went for a bit of everything. The waiter piled my plate high with biscuits too. The goat's cheese was fantastic, as was the stilton (served with a spoon from a whole stilton about a foot in diameter).

As if that wasn't enough, the lady who had dashed off to the casino had given me her shortbread biscuit. She didn't like shortbread. If you don't like shortbread what biscuit do you like?

As of last night I have worn every pair of shoes that I brought on holiday with me. All 12 pairs.

Monday's sea legs

Monday 13th May

After 5 busy port days, it was relaxing to have a day at sea to recuperate. Fortunately yesterday's storm had abated. I spent most of the day on the deck with a good book, interrupted only for frequent re-application of sunscreen and a longer break for lunch.

In the morning Matt kindly set off to do some laundry while I went to the “ladies fashion event”. This was a disappointment as it largely consisted of larger-sized middle-aged ladies barging around looking at clothes that (even to my untrained eye) clearly would not suit them. I was neither apologised to when I was trampled into, nor thanked when I made way for, the larger-sized middle-aged ladies. I did not stay long but my escape route up the stairs in the atrium was blocked by larger-sized middle-aged men spectating on the larger-sized middle-aged ladies.

Once I'd made my way through this obstacle course I had a clear run (well, trot) up the stairs to the Ocean Deck – by now our preferred outside location. I passed the time of day about the hammering our knees were taking with a man also going upwards. We agreed that going downwards was much worse. At the top of the stairs something really great happened to me. A kind Scottish lad said (to me), “ooh, here's the lady with the lovely long legs; the legs that just go on and on”. It's a special kind of compliment that comes from a stranger. Particularly when it's a compliment that makes you forget the pain in your knees. I'm going to try to compliment strangers more.

After an hour or so on deck I began to get a bit worried about Matt. I contemplated going to look for him but thought better than this because I figured that the chance of us crossing paths was very small. I tried calling the cabin from the phone on deck to see if he was hiding from the sun there – no answer. While trying to use the phone I ran into the our friends from the deck from a few days earlier – the chap who was going to be an unofficial tour guide in Rome. Apparently it had been a great success.

I read a few more chapters of my book. I tried calling the cabin again – no answer. I asked one of the stewards for the number for reception. I don't know quite what I expected reception to do: send out a search party to the launderette? Put an announcement out over the tannoy? I hadn't heard any lost person announcements the whole time yet. Now I could understand why I've seen some passengers walking around with walkie-talkies. Matt turned up just before I made the phone call to reception so I never found out what they would have done.

We had lunch with 2 fairly jolly middle-aged couples. One of the men insisted on telling us that the secret of a happy retirement is a good pension; maybe he thought we should be saving and not cruising.

The afternoon was punctuated only by further copious application of factor 30 (factor 50 for Matt) and I also took the opportunity to walk from one end of our deck (12) to the other – 334 paces. I had had to return to the cabin because I got factor 30 in my eyes. I tried to deal with it with a wet wipe but if anything this made the situation worse and I needed running water. It's not as painful as getting chilli in your eye. The cabin area was very quiet in the middle of the afternoon so I could walk the whole way along counting the steps without attracting too much attention.

Sunday's evening

Sunday 12th May: continued

It was still stormy: I was still feeling fine, Matt was still feeling a bit unwell. He challenged me that I would feel unwell after having a shower. I didn't. We were a bit delayed in getting out to dinner as Matt insisted on moving around the cabin with his eyes shut in an effort to avoid the development of unmanageable nausea. I made a concession to the whole gale and wore flat shoes and we took the lift rather than risking the stairs. It amazed me the number of women tottering around on ill-fitting high-heels. I mean, style's all very well (although a lot of them weren't even stylish) but this was just plain stupidity.

I have also been amazed by the number of doddery old ladies going around with various mobility aids (sticks, frames, those terrifying fold out frames with wheels) who also attire themselves in high-heels, surely their travel insurance should preclude this. I got poked by an old lady with a stick this morning and I'm not entirely sure it was an accidental poke.

Dinner was a lot quieter than usual – I guess that a lot of people were weathering the storm in their cabins. We sat with just one other person, a fantastic lady called Susan who was on her first holiday post-kidney transplant. It was her first cruise and she described it as her branded yeast extract cruise – love it or hate it. Fortunately she loved it. She worked in logistics and was impressed with the slick running of the ship. It was a great evening; none of the conversation staples that we're becoming over familiar with when people don't have anything interesting to say (their opinions of various cruise lines, the next cruise they've got booked, how proud they are of their grandchildren who – with a few notable exceptions – sound quite unremarkable). We talked about entrepreneurship and economics. Susan was a lady who had worked very hard to get to where she was today, and clearly still worked very hard. I had a lot of respect for her, helped I suspect by her fantastic sense of humour.

None of us felt remotely ill at the end of the meal (I think there's a good deal of mind over matter and the good food and good company took Matt's mind off the storm) but the boat was still listing in all dimensions so ballroom dancing was definitely off – even in flat shoes.

Sunday's storm

Sunday 12th May

We had spent most of the breakfast period arguing about the size of Corsica. Matt claimed it was the biggest island in the Mediterranean while I was adamant that it was about the same size as the Isle of Wight. I knew that at least it was smaller than Sardinia, Sicily and Cyprus. Today's port was Ajaccio – capital of Corsica. I don't think it's the most beautiful part of the island but we didn't have enough time to venture into the mountains so spent our time exploring the town.

It's typically French including:

mmm Palmier biscuit

• a market selling lurid coloured underwear, beach towels, cheap jewellery, ugly bags etc
• numerous boulangeries / patisseries (we didn't even try to resist)
• copious amounts of dog poo on the pavements

As it turns out Corsica is indeed smaller than Sardinia, Sicily and Cyprus, but considerably larger than the Isle of Wight.

We enjoyed exploring the city and made our way towards today's Something High To Go Up which was a statue of Napoleon. I think I managed reasonably lady like clambering to make it to the top.

The main produce of Corsica (or at least that which was most conspicuous for us to buy with our tourist Euros) was:

• a strong cheese – we tasted a bit in the market and although I love cheese I didn't fancy my chances getting a kilo home
• knives – potentially risky given the security procedures you have to go through every time you get on board
• dome shaped tea-towels – with or without a miniature donkey affixed. We had been commenting on the poor state of repair of our tea towels so parted with a few tourist Euros for one of these

We got back on board in time for a late lunch, along with a chatty middle-aged couple who told us that they were thrilled to be sat with some younger people. Unfortunately the other people on the table didn't seem to be so thrilled. Maybe they were worried that we'd start talking pop music, club drugs and reality TV (we refrained on this occasion). I couldn't help but wonder if this is how miserable they are on holiday what they must be like to live with.

Afterwards we went out on deck and enjoyed a large cocktail of the day (pina colada).

The wind was picking up and it was getting a bit choppy but we had a lovely quiet spot shielded from the worst of the elements by glass screens. We were going to go back out once we had used the facilities in cabin but by this time the wind had picked up even more. According to the weather log (which Matt mainly watches on our in-cabin TV) there is actually a fresh gale, but due to the direction of travel versus the direction of the wind the apparent wind speed is a “whole” gale. This causes a “danger” sign to flash on the screen, which is slightly disconcerting. But the captain put out an announcement that we needn't worry and, apart from some dramatic water splashes around the pool, life on board carried on as normal.

Lots of people were heading for afternoon tea but Matt decided that the only thing for it was to sleep through the storm and I tucked into some prophylactic crystallised ginger. If I was sick it would just serve me right for eating so much pudding the other day.

I ended up falling asleep in the cabin too. It must have been the swaying motion of the ship, or maybe the large pina colada. Either way I was rudely awoken at 7pm by an in-cabin announcement. This was it, I thought. I would have to get my life-jacket on and make my way to muster station A. I thought about the old people and how they would struggle to get into the lifeboats.

But no. It was Lewis the cruise director announcing that the evening's singer (a semi-finalist in a 2007 TV talent show) was sea sick (he put it rather more euphemistically than this) and informing us of what other entertainments would be available, including a 60s and 70s night which he assured us was the era of the music not the age restriction of the passengers (this is just a taste of the poor quality “jokes” that we had to endure from Lewis).

Saturday's pirate dance

Saturday 11th May, continued

Having only consumed one of the little packets of biscuits that they put in your cabin and an ice-cream (all be it a very delicious ice-cream) since 9am we were rather peckish when we got back on the ship. Everything was gearing up for the evening meal but we legged it up 10 decks (we have been trying to avoid the lifts in an effort to burn energy, plus they are a bit temperamental and time was of the essence) to make it to the poolside pizzeria 10 minutes before it shut. I really enjoyed my hungrily eaten pizza (we were in Italy after all) and chips (it was only a little pizza). 

We'd have to wait a while for that to go down to make space for dinner. There were lots of other cruise ships in Civitavecchia so we took a walk around the deck to look at them all - I was particularly excited by the one with loads of waterslides at its stern. 

The captain's disdain of the Italians became apparent. He'd announced the previous evening that there would be quite a few cruise ships in Civitavecchia that day and due to the lack of "control" that "Port Control" ever exerted he would not be able to guarantee our docking time, even though it was booked for 7am. Then, this evening, he said that we would have to have a tug out of the port, even though there was no need, and insinuated that this was just for "jobs for the boys". 

We had the pool to ourselves for another vigorous pre-dinner swim. Again, on a ship with 3000 passengers this amazes me. In preparation for dinner Matt decided that his beard had got long enough and took his clippers to it. Unfortunately he had an accident with them on the back of his neck and I was thus entrusted to even things up. Hair dressing is clearly not one of my natural abilities but I was trusted enough to sort it out. I saw this as my perfect opportunity to adorn Matt with one of those little rat tail tufty bits popular with small Dutch boys (at least this was the case on French campsites in the early 1990s). Matt didn't like this style so I was benevolent and did my best to give him a straight hairline.

Dinner was a peculiar affair. We were on a table of 8 which is a difficult size to have a conversation involving the whole table so Matt and I mostly chatted with a lively older couple who had been engaged for 18 years. Also on our table were:

• a miserable looking middle-aged couple. He perked up a bit when talking about football. She didn't perk up at all.
• an older couple - Gladys and Glen. I think that Gladys was one of those older people who is deaf but doesn't realise it. She became very animated when talking about the potteries, the evils of drink and the unnecessary use of mobility scooters. They both became animated when talking about the gym. Gladys was also disproportionately excited about fountains. In this respect (rather than that of the potteries or the gym) Matt had found a like-minded traveller.

We were very late dining this evening and observed the waiters counting cutlery as we finished our coffees. I presumed that this was a safety precaution (to make sure no-one had removed a knife to use as a weapon) but our fellow diners suggested it was more likely to be to check for losses from an economic perspective.

I instructed Matt to be careful in his leading of the dance tonight as I had a rather short dress on; but we were quite successful, especially to my request of the Pirates of the Caribbean Tango. I particularly like this music because you can really get into character with some well placed ooh-ahh pirate noises. 

Saturday's slight loss

It was our first weekend in a while without anything in particular to do (apart from the usual DIY based activities) and we spent a considerable time debating what to do. The fine weather was holding for now (although a strong breeze was evident as one of the plants had fallen off its shelf in the garden), but the forecast into next week wasn't looking so good. So it seemed sensible to make the most of the outside world. The obvious choice would have been the beach but a few things put me off this:

• Social media would suggest that a lot of other people were headed there
• The wind would potentially be a problem
• One of my favourite things to do at the seaside is to bodyboard, with the current high pressure there are insufficient waves to make the wetsuit application, removal and cleaning worthwhile.

Instead we decided to go for a walk. Coastal walks would be afflicted with the problem of the car parks being full of the aforementioned beach-goers. So we would go for something inland. The moors would be afflicted with a lack of shade. So we would go for something countrysidey. There are good walks that would have fitted the bill very locally but as we didn't have any time pressure we could go a little further afield. Going further west into Cornwall would be afflicted with the problem of lots of other people going west into Cornwall (it being a Saturday in the school holidays). So we would go for something in Devon.

Starting out at Totnes

I found just the walk I was looking for in a book of Devon walks – along the river Dart from Totnes. This book has a lot of nice walks in it but is very light on both directions and maps. For example on undertaking a previous walk from the same series we were instructed to “go right at a rock that looks like a shark”. And today's particular walk had no map at all. Still, it was basically along the river so surely wouldn't be too challenging geographically. Once we had worked out what side of the river we were supposed to be on, the first part of the walk was indeed straightforward. It wasn't looking promising as we started off walking past some light industrial units but we soon hit rural paths. I ran into a bit of trouble with some stinging nettles but did my best to resist the urge to scratch and the pain soon subsided.

An undulation

For a walk beside a river it was remarkably undulating. Our first geographical dilemma arose when we came to an “undulating field with parkland trees”, the book's instruction was that the route continued around the bottom of this field, the sign suggested that the path was up one of the undulations. Given our previous experiences with the book we opted for the sign option so duly marched up the undulation and joined the path here.

River Dart, looking back to Totnes

The next geographical dilemma occurred when we came to a point with 2 signs to Ashprington, one suitable for bikes the other not. We knew that we had to get to Ashprington as part of our route but the instructions said that we shouldn't change paths until we got to a gate with a no entry sign and then that we would walk through a larch grove. There was no sign of a gate, let alone a no entry sign and although I couldn't be sure what a larch grove looks like I assumed it involved trees and there was no sign of this either. Additionally, according to the book, we should have passed a disused quarry and neither of us had seen any evidence of this. We'd hardly seen another soul so didn't want to chance waiting to ask someone; so we continued, enjoying more of the beautiful South Hams scenery.

When we arrived at the Sharpham farm shop and restaurant we knew we must have gone too far. It was busy with (mainly very posh) people lunching but we had no time to rest ourselves as we had just about hit the halfway mark with our car parking allowance. The lady in the shop (clearly disappointed that we were not buying wine) confirmed that we had indeed gone too far and helped out by giving us vague directions that you had to go up The Hill to get to Ashprington. So we retraced our steps a little bit until we got to the first path that looked like it was going up The Hill. This looked hopeful as it followed along beside a road, so if it didn't go to Ashprington maybe it would go somewhere else with some sort of amenities, or a bus.

But it did get us to Ashprington. This turned out to be an absolutely gorgeous place – exactly what you might imagine an English Village to be like, only with more parked cars. If I was going to live somewhere out of the city it would be somewhere like this (although a later investigation of house prices indicates that maybe I wouldn't live somewhere like this barring a lottery win). We were now back on the suggested and route and reviewing our schedule decided that we were well back on schedule to avoid a parking ticket, so we could stop off at the pub for a drink and a loo visit. It was a proper pub and one that we'll try to get back to for a meal sometime.

Ashprington

15th century church

 Suitably refreshed from one of my favourite types of ginger beer we returned to the book. It instructed us to “simply retrace” our steps. This would have been disappointing had we not taken such a major detour on the way (I am generally a fan of more circular routes) but since we had gone wrong we could aim for the right path on the way back. This was actually quite easy and we even experienced the larch grove. There was the added excitement of keeping an eye out for a lost buoyancy aid. We eventually rejoined our original path where there were the 2 signs to Ashprington, but there definitely wasn't a gate with a no entry sign. We walked back along the river and this time did see the disused quarry – quite obvious so unsure how we missed it on the way, maybe we were too engrossed in some other view. 9  miles (approximately), three and a half hours later (approximately) and a nice mix of sun and shade we avoided a parking ticket by a whole 25 minutes and were really, really hungry.

On the way back