Roy Walker,a TV personality,performed several nights ago.

The picture showed a middle aged dapper man.What came on stage was an old man in an ill fitted suit.But if there is one thing life has taught me,it is never to judge a sausage by the skin.His memory-enviable.Wit-razor sharp.Jokes-wonderfully amusing.My favourite:Bill Clinton came no Ireland.Hundred women were asked in a poll,if they would ever sleep with him.99 answered -never again.His song VIAGRA got a standing ovation.I loved him.Frequent cruisers get some internet minutes free-I myself get 240.Of all the places in the world I love writing on Cunard ships the best.It is the position of the computers, that is a stroke of genius.The writing in these surroundings becomes therapeutic.The magnificence of the constant yet ever changing horizon-the waves playfully chasing each other,the sun disappearing behind the clouds and then coming out again, bright and life giving.The mighty ball of heat and light gracing us with its presence on this as if godforsaken spot,yet ship making its purposeful strides ahead knowing where it is going, where the same sun will shine brightly,or not, again.How can this be?Is it the hand of God? On Dec 8 we docked in Praia da Vitoria,Terceira,Azores,the ship's maiden call.As Horta, the original port,was too dangerous to dock in,this tiny island was chosen instead.Why we couldn't have gone to one of the Canary Islands,is beyond me.We were carted off to a dumpy little town on a dumpy little island.The natives in a shock.Never before has anything so mighty been seen here.We were welcomed by singing and dancing ,but majority of shops remained firmly closed-they must have heard of the British shop-lifters!No bank was open.How do these people live and prosper? There is supposed to be an American base 3km out of town,the Yanks must bring enough trade in the evenings.I took a few photos and returned to the ship.But at least we were not subjected to the nightmare of tenders as would have been the case on Horta. Tenders are little boats, that ferry us from the ship to the mainland, if the water by the mainland is too shallow. There was a moment I will treasure for ever-a tiny solitary boat circling, looking at us quizzically as if saying- what are you doing here,you blot on the horizon,you are intruding,go away...Too many people smell on this ship.Good 40% have probably not had a shower since leaving Soton.It is because they are too fat and the shower cubicles too small.The smell is not so noticeable on a 7 night cruise, but 24...This morning the sun popped out again and we could sun-bathe.There was a great big whale in a speedo resplendent on a deck chair.I have seen him several times in the company of a woman.Can't quite make out what their relationship is - daughter,mistress,wife?Clothed he looks my kind of a man -well built, a little belly,smartly dressed.But what possesses an almost 70 year old man to done on that airtight monstrocity! And why doesn't the woman put her foot down.Some men not only look questionable,they have a personality to match.At breakfast today I popped a slice of bread into the toaster.A man with a stubble and a shirt that badly needed ironing,his socks a strange muted white,popped 3 slices of bread into the same toaster.We stood there and waited. I never expected him to turn to me and say annoyingly-you know you can use the other toaster and pointed his finger.I looked at the ugly face,his dirty fingernails, so wanting to say-you idiot,am I standing here like a lemon, waiting for a a dumbo like you to tell me which toaster to use? Instead I smiled sweetly and said - I know.He kept on looking at me challengingly. Then my toast slid down into the holder.He looked startled,he was not expecting that.