Friday,3 June 2016,at sea en route to St.Peter Port,Guernsey.

The day is dull and grey,it is unlikely the weather will improve in the next few hours The ship provides activities to suit every age and taste. As every morning there are numerous fitness classes in the gym,two chairobics sessions during the day,fitness body sculpt boot camp late afternoon [this is for the very devoted only] and a gentle sundown stretch at 6. You can line dance, fence,knit, do needlework,even make a hat for tonight's Royal Ascot. [Yes, it is another formal attire tonight ]. There is something on the agenda called FRIENDS OF DOROTHY and FRIENDS OF BILL W,but I have absolutely no idea what it is and have absolutely no intention of finding out. As I am writing a fruit and vegetable carving demonstration is taking place in the Grand Lobby,a feast for the eye,always very popular. And as I am writing am sitting by the window in the most glorious Library,[to me the nicest place to sit on this ship], surpassed only by that on the Queen Mary,I can see people walking by the window,some hurriedly,some taking a more leisurely stroll,clockwise or anti-clockwise,at times almost bumping into each other.I may go and join them but it looks rather windy,may have to go up to my cabin and put on something warm. How I love this life.

Dinner in the Britannia restaurant on 2 June,2016.

Prawn and salmon cake - the best starter to date. Utterly delicious,with a smothering of chilli sauce. Perfection. Chicken consomme equally commendable. Tender,succulent venison could have been served at any banquet for the Queen of England. The parsnip a bit too strong for the delicate dish,liked by some, but not by me. Orange pound cake as light as a feather and scrumptious. And for the first time I had some cheese,too. But not for the last, It will be on my plate tonight and tomorrow evening.

Roly-Poly.

When I saw it on the lunch menu yesterday,my heart jumped with joy. Oh, what anticipation,oh,what disappointment. Hard, tasteless dough with a smattering of jam, smothered with awful smelling and tasting custard. Quite unpalatable. Too much roly and not enough poly.

03/06/2016, Jazz.

A band played last night almost by the door to the Britannia restaurant.After dinner I stopped,sat down and listened. Jazz gladdens my heart more than any other music does.

02/06/2016, VIGO.

You walk the streets and soon become aware that nothing makes sense here. As if put together by a blindfolded child. No character, no history,just sad old age. The old is old and ugly and awful,the new is even uglier and more awful. The port terminal is shocking,dreadful,it  matches the rest of this unloved city. In front of the terminal there are two statues of people marching into the building. How fitting. If the residents could,I am sure they would all want to run away from here. Unfortunately Vigo has one of the best natural ports in Europe,so many ships dock here and I know I will come many times yet, hoping against hope the city will grow on me,knowing only too well I leave as disappointed as after every previous visit. To me this gormless city is the ugliest city in Europe.

02/06/2016, WONDERFUL OPORTO.

I love it and wish we had stayed overnight in the port,as sometimes the ships do.Parts of Oporto are quite run down,paint peeling on so many buildings,old and new. I have heard a lot of people say how awful it is letting this lovely city go to rack and ruin.But to me there is great beauty in the shabbiness. The clothes waving in the wind on the clothes lines and on some strange contraptions hanging out of the windows .That to me is life. There are beautifully designed buildings,simple,stylish,elegant, in very exclusive parts where the rich and famous live, but nothing can compare with centuries old houses,they breathe joy and life,and sorrow and death,the natural order of things. I love you, OPORTO, I love you in all your shabby, grey, lived in glory.

01/06/2016, Frog legs.

Jeremy Paxman may not think much of the French language, I may not think much of the French people,but the FROG LEGS are a different French matter  altogether. Had them for the very first time ever. Had I not known what they were, would have thought I was served anaemic chicken.A la Provencale,they were deliciose, Then a raw spinach salad needing nothing more than a few slices of uncooked mushrooms,red onion and a drop of blue cheese dressing. Where are the cooks hiding a vegetable garden? Veal scallopini a la Milanese as soft as a Hungarian feather down. The only disappointment was fruit Pavlova,probably loved by all,but not by me, for me it was the lesser of the five evils of the moussey variety. Would an apple and cranberry strudel have had thumbs up? I will never know now. Still,the kitchen produces meal after meal so delicious,I never stop marvelling how they manage to do it, feeding well over 2000 passengers and 1000 employees. I cook for one and in comparison....