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.