As promised, these are a few photographs taken at our Grand Exhibition.

The last night's variety show was a roaring success, with music, magic and comedy in equal measure. Both shows had a full turn-out, and at the end, when all the entertainers, lecturers, craft tutors and show-team all took to the stage for one last song, the atmosphere was fantastic, with barely a dry eye in the house. Everyone stood, linked arms and belted out 'Auld Lang Syne' like they were about to say farewell to a bunch of dearest friends... all very moving!

I have to say that the final few sea-days were extremely well managed, with lots to do and rarely a dull moment, which meant that they passed very quickly.

We arrived at Tilbury at about 7am on Friday morning, and most people had disembarked by 11 o'clock. It's a long wait, as passengers are disembarked off the ship in deck order, starting at the top and working down. I was on the road by 11:30, and back home in Richmond by about 4:45pm.

As I've said before; different cruise ships do things differently to one another. Ultimately, the Marco Polo is a small ship with a big heart; working on there was like being part of a big family. I missed having kettles in the rooms, and not having a launderette on such a long trip was inconvenient (and expensive). These are minor considerations, though, when set against the experience as a whole. This year's itinerary beat last year's (on the Boudicca) hands-down by having more, and a wider variety of, Amazon port-stops, and Iles du Salut was an absolute gem... turns out, there was a rocket launch from the European Space Centre only a week or so after our visit. As cruise ships are not allowed in the area when this takes place, we were lucky to be able to visit it at all.

Even the electrical blackout, when viewed in retrospect, was all part of the same big adventure.

By the way.... I've since googled the precise meaning of the Black Plastic Ball signal, and it doesn't signify that a ship is in distress at all, but is simply a signal to other ships that you are at anchor. Which just goes to show the unreliability of information bandied around on board ship. Rumours often run rife, and despite well-meant intentions, people do seem to go off on flights of fancy, with facts that often turn out not to be facts at all.

Have I enjoyed it?

You bet!

The Marco Polo rocks!

It's been a busy and exciting day, and it's not over yet.

This is just a quick post to say that the exhibition was a storming success. At 11am, it was all hands on deck, with some folks cutting masking tape, some folding it, and applying it to the backs of pictures, and others sticking them to the corridor walls outside the Craft Room. By 11:30am, the exhibition was ready, and hordes of passengers started turning up to look at them, despite it being advertised in the Daily Blurb as being on from 12 noon until 4pm.

Photos will follow....

At 3pm, when there was a lull, I went along to see the Shanty choir that had been put together by Steve Magnall, one of the lecturers. It was an excellent hour's entertainment, with sea shanties being sung by a full choir of passengers that have been rehearsing for days, accompanied by a video and slide presentation, providing information about the meaning of many of the shanties. Quite extraordinary!!

At 4pm, the exhibition came to an end, and folks started to collect their work. It had been a vibrant few hours. The paintings looked absolutely fantastic all 'hung' together, randomly, and the general feedback by all that attended was overwhelmingly good...

Mission accomplished!!

At 5pm, I was asked to go along to the Marco Polo Lounge for a rehearsal...

Being the last night, there's going to be a variety show, culminating in all the entertainers, lecturers and show hosts being on stage for 'Auld Langs Syne' (two shows, so we have to do it all twice....)

A full account and summary will follow, but tomorrow at 7am, we arrive back home in Tilbury, bringing the cruise to an end. In case I don't get add another post until I get home, I'd just like to thank all of you that have commented on the blog for your contributions, and to all of you who have been reading, I hope that you've enjoyed the adventure as much as Tracey and I have done.

Over the last six and a half weeks, I've done many workshops; not just once, but three times a day. That many workshops produces a large amount of work, and I was in a quandary as to what to do with it all. I decided, after much deliberation to simply offer them to the students who have attended the workshops, for a small, nominal fee. Having selected about half a dozen of the best ones and finished them off in the cabin, in preparation for tomorrow's grand exhibition, I announced that I would bring the remainder up to today's classes and offer them for sale. Yesterday's 2pm class were very wary of this; after all, being the last of the three groups, wouldn't this mean that the best of them would be picked over, leaving little for them? I reluctantly agreed with this scenario, and suggested that they might want to come early, to the 11 o'clock group, to enable them to have an equal chance of picking out paintings they liked most...

Well... talk about misjudging something... Remember that these are, largely, unfinished pieces of work, that have been painted under classroom conditions, at speed, and under a certain amount of pressure. I wasn't sure anyone would particularly want them that much. How wrong was I?

In retrospect, I could have organised it better...

At quarter to 11, when I arrived at the craft room (where Pam's class was still in progress), I was met by a large group of eager students, waiting to get their hands on the demonstration paintings. I held them off for as long as I could, but once Pam had cleared the room, it was time to let them in. I'd randomly scattered the paintings across a group of tables, so that everyone could get easy access to them...

What followed can only be described as 5 minutes of madness. It was like a manic jumble sale, with folks piling in like their lives depended upon it... and it was all over very quickly... every single one gone. On reflection, what I should have done, at the very least, was to limit people to no more than a maximum of one, or two, pieces each. Several people left with 4 under their arm, leaving some quite disappointed.

The second group, of course, wasn't happy at all; when they turned up, several people looked around and asked me if I'd remembered to bring the paintings up with me... when I explained what had happened, they clearly felt they'd been left out.

Lessons have been learnt.

Interestingly enough, following on from the discussions yesterday, about fights breaking out, there was an incident this morning, right next door to the craft room, in the Card Room. Two Bridge players actually came to blows - by all accounts, it wasn't over a Bridge game, but over something else. The incident was made worse by the fact that it happened between an English guest and a Dutch guest; witnesses say that the Dutch guest grabbed the arm of the Englishman, who responded with blow to the face. I can honestly say that I haven't seen any aggro on the ship, personally. Apparently, though there has been a bit of tension brewing between a few people, most markedly regarding the smoking areas... There are specially-designated areas on the outer decks where smoking is permitted. Although these are well-signed, and in the main, the rules strictly adhered to, there have been a few reported incidences of aggression. Maybe some people are just ready to go home.

Today's lessons were my last for this trip. The 12:30 group presented me with a lovely card signed by them all, made by one of them in the Card Creation sessions, and the art stuff was packed away for the last time.

All the paintings are in, ready for tomorrow's big show... I can't wait!

Apparently....

- The reason we didn't leave Ponta Delgarda until 2am was because they had to change a piston, a job which is said to take at least 10 hours. A part had to be flown in by helicopter to complete the job (accompanied by a Director of the cruise line, by all accounts, who is still on board).

- To fix the electrical fault that we suffered in the Amazon, caused by a water leak after the heavy rain, required 3 new parts. Only one of those parts was available as a spare - the other two were manufactured on board ship by the Chief Engineer. Nobody knew for certain that it would all work properly after it was restarted, so contingency plans were being put into place to fly everyone home.

- There was a fight in the gym, early on in the cruise, resulting in one man being put into solitary confinement overnight.

- There have been a couple of incidents in the restaurant, where punches have been thrown.... apparently, they have a naughty table, where disgraced passengers are put as a punishment.

These are all revelations that were talked about by students in today's lesson. How factual or apocryphal they are is not for me to say - suffice to say that someone asked me how it was that I didn't know about such things (I just don't). The job of getting people to hand in their work ready for Thursday's grand exhibition has continued, resulting a a huge pile of work, that's going to take hours to put up.

Tonight is the last of the Formal nights - urgh! I really can't be bothered to get dressed up in full dinner suit annd dickie-bow, but because I'm mildly interested in going along to watch the showteam's version of 'We Will Rock You', I've compromised with blue suit and sheep-tie.

Today has felt like a Monday. It's felt a bit hum-drum, where only work matters, and the end of the cruise, being only days away, actually feels only days away. The weather has been cold, and the sea steely grey and quite rough with no-one, but the most grittily determined, sitting out on the windy deck - how quickly things change.

It's business as usual inside, of course, with lectures and workshops still in full swing. The first of my final three sessions had everyone painting a swan - a subject that seemed to go down well, and produced good results right across the board. I told my students today that this week is our big week; our big exhibition has been set for Thursday afternoon, so the job of cajoling paintings out of everybody has begun in earnest. I sold another painting today, which has cheered me up no end, and the DVDs have been going steadily, too... it makes it all the more worthwhile. I had three mugs of tea brought me today... all at the same time.

After the workshops had finished, and I'd stuffed my face with sandwiches at 3:30 teatime, I spent the rest of the afternoon in the cabin catching up on work stuff; something I'm more than happy doing, instead of fighting for a space to sit in the lounges.

It was blue tablecloths in Marcos tonight - last night, they were pink; clearly, they're alternating between sets, and wanting to send everyone home with a pleasing, and warm, impression of the informal eatery.

I was surprised to see a few suitcases standing on the stairwell earlier - talk about packing early (either that, or they've just found some from embarkation). The weather seems to be occupying the thoughts of many; I think many are worried about what we're going back to, and for those who have had their cars stood parked in the open for the last six and a half weeks, I suspect they're worrying about whether they'll start okay - one only hopes that Tilbury will have jump-leads at the standby - I'm not worried because mine is parked inside (there have to be some perks to being a tutor).

There's a Rock n' Roll Show on tonight, by the our UK guest act, Richard Sykes, for which I simply can't muster the enthusiasm (Rock n' Roll isn't really my thing). Until recently, Richard was the Cruise Director on the Marco Polo, and has now taken up the full-time mantle of entertainer. He, along with all the other in-house entertainers have worked exceedingly hard on this cruise; the Cruise Director himself has performed several shows and cabarets, along with his Assistant Director and others in the entertainments team. This is the first cruise I've worked on where personnel working from the office and running the day-to-day activities are also the primary performers in the shows. I have to say that I've heard nothing but glowing testimonials from passengers when they've discussed the entertainments on board, so I guess they must be doing something right...

It'll be another in-cabin movie for me tonight, and an early night. I have to do 'The Rules of Reflection' three times tomorrow, and talk the more reluctant students into giving up their work for our big day on Thursday.... not long now...

Today, we arrived in Ponta delgada, on the island of San Miguel, which is the largest of the nine islands that make up the Azores.

I set off from the gangplank after breakfast with little idea of how I was going to spend the day. We arrived at Ponta Delgada at 8am this morning and don't leave until 2am tomorrow morning. That's a long time to be in port; many are planning a wild evening out on the town.

I've been here before, having visited it last year on the Boudicca, and as predicted, I hadn't been called up for tour escort duty, so I anticipated nothing more than a leisurely potter around the town...

As I reached the terminal, though, I found myself chatting to a couple who were waiting for another couple to see about chartering a taxi to take them for a drive. When the other couple turned up, it was none other than the two that Tracey and I had shared a taxi with in Macapa, and had got that extraordinary deal of $30 both ways for the four of us. They all asked if I would like to join them, and I said I'd be delighted to, so we went to see what was available...

The first taxi driver we came across quoted 120 euros for a trip to see the twin crater lakes at Cete Cicades, but wouldn't take all five of us. He told us that all the taxis in Ponte Delgada would only take a maximum of 4 passengers. We thanked him and walked on; I told the other four that if it was to be an issue, then I would happily drop out, since they'd originally only planned for the four of them anyway. They wouldn't have it, though, and insisted that we look for other taxis, believing that there must surely be larger vehicles. It wasnn't looking good, however, and I was about to drop out when a young man in a bright yellow jacket approached us. He asked if we were looking for a vehicle for 5 people, and went on to say that he had a van....

Without any further discussion, we started to follow the young man out of the terminal. As we walked, it occurred to us that he probably actually meant a 'van', and visions of three of us rolling around in the back of a Transit Van started to come to mind. We needn't have worried, though; he took us to a Sales booth on the sea front that bore the sign 'ANC Motos'. He went inside and started to speaking to a chap there, who appeared to be in charge. I noticed that they hired out quad bikes, motor scooters and push bicycles. The other chap introduced himself as Andre, and told us that they have a small minibus-van, in which they would be happy to give us a ride. We asked about the price, and he told us it would be 25 euros per person. I explained that I only had 20 euros in my pocket, and Tony asked Andre if he could possibly make that 20euros per person... He didn't take much persuading, as it happens (in fact, I'm convinced we could probably have knocked him down to 15 euros per person, but that might not have gone down very well), and we all headed for the minibus. Another passenger, whom the others knew, approached as we were about the get in the van, and asked if there was room for another; we were happy about that, at Andre was happy to make a further 20 euros, so everyone was happy, so our little tour began...

Actually; it looked like it wouldn't begin, because Andre couldn't get the back of the middle-seat down to let people into the back seats. He pushed and pulled, and cursed at it, but the thing wouldn't budge. Eventually, he managed to get the back down on the opposite side, which wasn't perfect, because climbing over them was a little awkward, and he apologised profusely. We weren't bothered about such a small detail; the trip should continue...

So, with Andre driving and his young helper (who he told us was on his first day in the job) in the front passenger seat, our first stop was at a Grapefruit plantation just on the outskirsts of town. After this, began the long climb up into the mountains. San Miguel has three distinct mountainous regions, each with its own volcanic crater. We were heading to the southern end of the island and the twin lakes of Cete Cicades.

From high up, the crater is nothing short of impressive. It's twin lakes, divided by a small bridge are subject of a legend, whereby a princess met a lowly shepherd and fell in love with him. Because she was a princess and he was just a shepherd, they courted in secret, until the day her father, the king, found out. He summoned the shepherd and told him that they must never see each other again. The lakes are the result of the floods of tears; a blue lake for the princess's tears, and a green lake made by those of the shepherd. The different colours of each lake weren't noticeable today because it's all down to the sun. One is more open than the other, and therefore reflects the blue of the sky, whilst the other is more enclosed, and reflects the trees that clothe the hills.

After seeing it from high up, we were taken down to the level of the water, and finally, to a small village that bears the same name as the crater, built on the shore of the lake. Here, we wandered around briefly, and had a drink in a small cafe there, before setting off back towards Ponta Delgada. The whole trip took just over four hours, and we were back just in time for lunch on the ship.

Whilst we we out, we came across several other passengers who had chartered taxis in a similar way (all voiced their opinion that the £45 per person charge for the same trip, if bought on the ship, seemed a little excessive). The best deal we heard about was four passengers who had hired a car on the terminal for only 37euros - for the whole day! I maintain that they could have made a killing, sub-hiring themselves out to other passengers for trips up the mountain...

After lunch, I wandered into town for a look around and shoot some video. As it is Sunday, the place was, like Horta, very quiet, and most shops were closed. I had heard tell of a shopping centre on the opposite side of town, however, which would be open, so as I walked, I made sure I drifted in that direction. With thoughts of Blue Tack in my mind, I eventually discovered said shopping centre, which reminded mme of the one in Darlington. There was a large B&Q-type store in one corner, and umpteen shops on two levels - mostly clothing, mobile phone and shoe shops, it has to be said (just like Darlington), with a large supermarket, similar to Morrisons or Sainsburys taking up one whole end of it...

I scoured high and low, but to no avail.... Blue Tack clearly hasn't found its way to this part of the world.

I finished my walk around town and headed on back to the terminal, where free wi-fi was available in several of the bars there.

Tomorrow, we'll be back at sea and only a few days away from home. It's been noticeably cooler today, with most passengers wearing fleeces and coats. It's going to get increasingly colder over the next few days, so it's probably just as well that we bceome aclimatised gradually.

I like the Azores. Once again, it's charmed me, and I look forward to returning here again sometime in the not too distant future.

Today, we arrived at Horta, on Faial Island, which is part of the Azores central group.

As we weren't due to arrive until lunchtime, I spent all morning in my cabin-studio painting, and listening to podcasts. It was a pleasant morning, and very productive, from which I didn't resurface until just before 12 noon, as we approached the islands. I packed my stuff away and went up on deck eagerly; the wind was blowing hard and it was chilly, but the view was clear, and the islands could be seen in all their glory. Apparently, someone told me that, the Azores are notorious for having a preponderance of low cloud, often spoiling any hope of clear views.

I had a quick lunch and was one of the first off the ship; with a short shopping list, I was a man with a mission - someone has borrowed by rubber and not given it back (The Craft Room is a bit of a black hole like that - I have brushes that have gone missing, and both Pam and Michelle have reported stuff going walkies), so first on my list was a new eraser. Second on the list was some more masking tape, and finally - Blue Tack.

Horta harbour reminds me a little of Funchal, in its layout, with the Marco Polo berthed way out on one of the furthest quaysides, making for a 20-25 minute walk into town, around three sides of the harbour.

The time was about 1:45 when I got into Horta itself. On Saturdays, it turns out, everything closes for the day at 1pm. Hmm. Typical.

I wandered around Horta like many people, looking at its quaint little streets and black and white houses, with the stepped roofs, so typical of the Azores (I remember Ponta Del Garda, which is where we are tomorrow). So, it was extremely quiet, and mostly deserted but for the passengers of the Marco Polo wandering around with cameras in hand, snapping anything that looked vaguely interesting. I found a small shop where they had a small collection of stationery, and instantly found a rubber - one down, two to go. On one of the shopkeeper's shelves, behind the counter, I spotted a roll of masking tape, and pointed to it in a querying manner...

He seemed to understand what I was inferring, and managed to explain that they didn't sell masking tape. I asked if he knew where I might get some today, and he drew me a little map; there is a place down near the dockside, he told me, that would be open until 6pm. I thanked him, and on leaving, asked if he knew what Blue Tack was. He didn't.

I wandered around the streets, videoing, and gravitating slowly back towards the quayside, until I came to where I thought the shopkeeper's map was meant to be leading me. A shop selling yachting supplies alongside groceries. I showed the map to the girl behind the counter and asked if I had the right place. She told me that it wasn't, and on further enquiries, no; they didn't sell masking tape. What she did do, though was to lead me outside and point in the direction of where I should go... she agreed, I should be able to get masking tape there... and no - she didn't know what I meant by Blue Tack.

My next destination was perfect. It was like a B&Q, with everything that B&Q would sell, including power tools, timber, adhesives, you name it. I had no trouble finding the masking tape section, and picked out four rolls. They also had a stationery section, from which I picked up two A4 envelopes to put a couple of paintings in (there are a couple of people I intend to make a gift of them... one being the cabin stewardess, and the other who must remain unidentified, but has been a true guardian angel). I looked high and low, and couldn't spot any Blue Tack, so I took my goods to the counter and asked the assistant there if he'd heard of it. He hadn't, but a lady sat at a desk in the corner understood exactly what I meant. Unfortunately, she said, the shop where I would most likely be successful in my quest was now closed for the day, but they both told me that there was another place, backing onto their shop, and upstairs (opposite side of the block, in other words) - "See the Chinese man", they both said....

I didn't understand what they meant until I left the 'B&Q' and walked around the block. Here, I found the place they had tried to describe to me; 'Mega Hong Kong' it was called...

It was an awesome shop; quite large, and sporting just about everything you could possibly think of; it was bursting with stuff from floor to ceiling, from clothes and shoes to fishing tackle and pots and pans... a bit like 'Yorkshire Trading' in Richmond. I started to look, but realised I didn't quite know where to look, because, unlike Yorkshire Trading, nothing seemed to be in any logical order, so I approached a little chinese lady who appeared to be standing, not doing much...

Imagine playing Charades, and being asked to act out 'Blue Tack' - that's what I did, along with sound effects, that had both her and her son rolling around in uncontrollable laughter. They thought my little demonstration was hilarious.... and, no... they didn't have any Blue Tack.

So; two out of three is as good a result as I'm going to get. It's Sunday tomorrow, so I'm expecting Ponta Del Garda to be shut also. The exhibition is just going to have to be 'hung' with masking tape.

As we'd entered the harbour, I'd noticed a couple of hills, that looked interesting. One of the first things I'd noticed about the Azores was how green they are, and these two hills, near the harbour, looked very green, and climbeable. Faial Island isn't very large; it only has a population of 15,000, and in its centre is a volcanic hill standing at 3422 feet, nearby which is a large crater, which was the destination for the only excursion laid on today. I'd seen pretty much everything I wanted to see, and it was only about 3pm. The ship would be not be leaving for Ponta Del Garda until 8:30pm, so... I decided to go climb a hill...

Monte da Guida is a protected nature reserve. As I headed in its direction, I discovered a lovely little beach and harbour, on the opposite side of the promontory, from the main marina. This was a good start; it reminded me of a Cornish coastal village - very quaint, and very quiet (the majority of passengers had all headed in the other direction, towards town). Next, I found a road that wound its way up the hill. I stopped often, and filmed the view as I got higher. I found an old fort, and saw a number of small rat-like creatures scuttling away from me. Every so often, taxis, carrying passengers from the ship, would pass me; I had absolutely no idea how far it was, or how long the trek was going to take me, but I was determined to get get to the top.

As it turned out, the very top was out of bounds. At one final turn in the road, I came across a widening of the road signifying a parking area, which gave excellent views over the coastal crater below, known as the 'Caldeirinhas'. There was also a small church there, which you could walk around the outside of, but which wasn't open. The views were awesome, in all directions... but particularly across to Horta town far below. The road continued on upwards, but was blocked off by a large gate. On the summit, could clearly be seen a large satellite dish-type structure... I figured it might be possible to walk up the hill, by-passing the road entrance, but closer inspection of the gate revealed a warning sign. I knew it was a warning sign because it was printed in red. I had no idea what it said, but two words sprang out; 'Crime' and 'Militaire'. That was good enough for me - I decided crashing in on something military would probably not be the wisest move - I could see the Daily Blurb reporting my arrest in my mind's eye... At that moment, a car bearing official-looking insignia turned into the car park area. I suddenly became very interested in the flora and fauna of the hillside immediately around me, and kept my video camera trained very resolutely on the view away from the installation... The car remained motionless for a few minutes then turned and headed off back down the hill. Phew... I don't think they noticed me...

As I sat there, I became aware of movement on the rocks around me. On closer inspection, I realised there were lots of little lizards moving about on them... wow!! I filmed them as best I could, then started to make my way back down the hill... I've seen Jurassic Park, and don't fancy being overpowered, and devoured, by millions of tiny lizards....

I saw lots of wildlife on my way down, and even found a shortcut that took me through an old abandoned farmhouse, and dense undergrowth that briefly brought back memories of the Amazon forest. Soon, I rejoined the road and was back on the quayside, heading back to the ship. My legs ache, and I'm tired, but am glowing with the smug self-satisfaction of having created my own little adventure.

Today, I made a few changes to the workshops itinerary; I gave the 11 o'clock group the session that I did with the later groups yesterday (Stone Walls & Sheep), the knock-on effect of which is that from Monday, all three classes will be in synch with each other. There are only three sessions left to go now; on Thursday, we'll be having the Grand Exhibition. I checked in the office today how much Blue-Tack they have...

They have none.

So, my task tomorrow, when we arrive in Horta, is to try and find some Blue-tack. It's been agreed (but needs to be verified with the Cruise Director) that the exhibition can take place in the corridor outside the Craft Room.

It's been a long, hard, week, and I'm ready to step foot on land again. I remember The Azores from last year, and that both Tracey and I liked it there. I don't expect to be offered any escort duties at this late stage, so I'll be doing my own thing (just as well, as I need to find that Blue-Tack).

This afternoon, after my last class, I went to the Marco Polo Lounge, where Gareth was running a sort of sit-down, 'Parkinson'-type show, where he was interviewing Andy Ford, Steve Smith, who's been giving musical lectures on comedy songs, and Richard Sykes. It was an entertaining hour, where they told stories and jokes, discussed their favourite comedians, and swapped anecdotes. One of the best bits of the show was where they told stories of passengers, highlighting the funnny things they say and do...

There was the couple who were seen to be standing around reception, by the Tour Excursions desk. When asked if they were alright, they say they were fine, thanks. About a half an hour later, they were still there; the ship was in port, and the gangway was down on Deck 5, and most people were going ashore, and when asked again if everything was okay, they told the Cruise Director that they were fine, thank you... Ninety minutes later, they were still standing in the same spot, by the Shore Excursions desk. The cruise Director couldn't stand it any longer; he went up to them and asked what they were waiting for. They explained that they were waiting for the Shuttle Bus.

Another lady was seen to be trying the lift, which was out of order, so she went up one floor and tried it there... "No", she said, "it's still out of order..." She apparently went up 2 further flights of stairs, unsuccessfully trying to find a lift that worked.

They discussed how tough it can be for a comedian if they don't go down very well; Andy Ford explained that one of his worse experiences was on a Saga ship, where no-one liked his act, and he spent four days down in the cabin, not coming out at all (and hasn't worked on Saga since)... 

Apparently, a whale was spotted today. Unfortunately, though, whales can break the surface once and not be seen again for another half an hour; the chances of spotting the blooming things are therefore very slim... I've stood for ages looking and not seeing a single thing. We're in the Northern Atlantic now, of course, so there are aren't even any flying fish to watch. A handful of people report having seen a few dolphins, but they're just the lucky few. It's a little warmer today, and the sun's been out, so many have been out on deck making the most of it while they can; the sea is still quite calm, so the conditions for whale and dolphin spotting are good... with just two minor ommissions...

Tonight, they're doing the re-scheduled 'Disney' Show, which I'll mosey along to take a look at, and the clocks will go forward one more hour, putting us only one hour behind UK time.

Interestingly; the tablecloths have appeared in Marco's again... only this time they were pink.

Numbers attending the workshops have remained bouyant, though, despite there being a Sea-Shanty Club just started up, which also clashes with my 12:30 session. The sun did come out briefly later in the afternoon, but not for long; as the rain started coming down again, there was a mad dash to get inside, and a fight for the best seats in the lounges. I took this as an ideal opportunity to disappear back to the cabin to do a spot of painting.

With our arrival back back in Tilbury only just over a week away, preparations need to be made for our traditional end-of-cruise art exhibition. I have a whole stack of half-finished demonstration paintings that need tarting up ready to go on show. 

Someone appears to have discovered a stash of tablecloths, as this evening, Marco's Bistro looked resplendent, dressed in blue; even the cutlery was rolled in blue napkins. This caused much of a stir amongst passengers coming in for their dinner - no-one is still quite sure why they've suddenly appeared. It doesn't make much difference to me; if I'm honest, I think getting a little bored with the food, and am struggling to maintain an appetite - unlike some people who still seem to stuff it away like it's going out of fashion.

This evening was the turn of Andy Ford, our guest comedian. As far as I know, tonight was his last show, and he was sizzling! I have to say; he's the best thing that I've seen on this ship, as far as entertainment is concerned, and will be checking out his website when I get home.

There's just one more sea-day to go before we arrive at the Azores - just in the nick of time, I'd say, with a hint of bordeom creeping in. A change in the weather means everyone is stuck inside, and that means people getting all precious about their favourite spots in the lounge - a perfect recipe for tension. Tomorrow night, the clocks will advance yet another hour, and we'll be into our final week.

After the choppy waters of the last few days, the sea has been strangely smooth and silken today. We've still got the swell, so the ship is rolling, but it's a far more gentle roll. There are no white horses at all, which makes it ideal for whale and dolphin spotting; sadly, I've seen neither, despite spending quite a long time at the front of the ship, after my classes, with my video camera at the ready.

The last hour and a half were spent on the top deck listening to the first of four Film-Review-podcasts (I have four weeks to catch up on). At that time of day, the sea of bare flesh is mercilessly depleted, and it was quite pleasant staying up there, watching the sun finally set.

This evening is a Formal Night, which is a bit of drag when you're by yourself. I'll reluctantly indulge, though, and grab an early dinner - this evening's showtime was meant to be a collection of Disney's greatest hit songs, with multi-media extravaganza (it says in the Daily Blurb), which I'm mildly curious about - it would be noticeable if I wore anything less than formal attire...

All dressed up... and they've just announced that Amy Street is ill, so tonight's Disney Extravaganza will be delayed for 2 nights... AAARGH!!

Tonight, we put clocks forward another hour, which will make us only 2 hours behind UK time, and it is also the last night that they'll be putting on entertainment out on the open deck - all signs that we're heading to cooler climes, and home sweet home.

In 'the Hitchiker's Guide To The Galaxy', Douglas Adams states that time is an illusion - teatime even more so...

Sea days can be long and slow, with time seemingly stretching endlessly before you; yet time seems to have slipped through my fingers like sand today. It's been 'Line & Wash' Day, which meant sorting out ink pens for everyone, and printing off something from the trip for students to have a go at. I wasn't up particularly early this morning, mostly because I stayed up watching a movie on the in-cabin TV, called 'Unfaithful' with Richard Gere, which I hadn't seen before. Earlier, they'd showed Tom Hanks' 'Castaway'... I'd forgotten what a good movie that is...

After a quick breakfast, then, I sat at on deck with a cup of tea, and found myself getting into conversation with one of my students. Occasional glances at my watch reminded me that time was getting short, and that I would need to get moving soon, because I still had lots to do in preparation for the workshop. To many of the passengers, though, part of the nature of cruising is that time becomes slightly irrelevant, and having long conversations is just one of the many pleasurable ways of passing it. My watch-glances became more frequent, until, eventually, I reached the moment of critical mass... the point when sitting talking to a passenger was no longer an option - if I didn't move and be somewhere else very soon, then things that needed to get done wouldn't get done...

Needless to say, ten minutes or so later, I'd passed the moment of critical mass; I hurried downstairs to get my stuff together, and, of course; more haste equals less speed...

I dashed to the office to get a photo printed off for the class, but there was no-one there to do it for me... slick operations can only be slick if everybody works as a team... where on earth was everybody? Fortunately, at the last minute, I found Andy, one of the entertainments team who was able to do my printing for me - setting the room up had to be done at superhuman speed, however, to be ready for my students... I don't know how I did it, but I did... amazing.

Despite the rush, classes went well, but all the ink pens that I'd brought with me were sold, so I'm not going to be able to do Line & Wash with the 11 o'clock, remedial class (which is about 3 sessions behind the other two) - which is just as well, really, because I still have to lose a couple of sessions to get them to catch up.

The good news is; someone brought me in a cup of tea today - huraaaaaah! I was offered a roll, too, but time was getting short between classes, so I declined and just stuck with the tea.

Another fascinating conversation I had today was with another of my students. It turns out that he works as an extra in TV and movies. Regular work involves working on shows like Casualty and Eastenders, but I got very excited when he started talking about his work on films such as 'The Dark Knight', the two 'Sherlock Holmes' movies, and 'The Bourne Ultimatum' - how cool is that?

My last class finishes at 3, which means I'm usually out of the room, handing it over to Michelle, for her scrapbooking, at about 20-minutes past. Teatime is at 3:30pm, when they serve cakes and sandwiches - which constitutes my lunch. I stuffed a bunch of sarnies down me and hastily drank a mug of tea because I was keen to get to a lecture in the Marco Polo lounge starting at 4pm. It was a talk by our guest comedian, Andy Ford, in which he talked about his life in the business, and then about the nature of comedy itself. It was a fascinating talk which, although programmed to be only 30 minutes long, stretched on to just over an hour. The talk was fascinating, and, of course, very entertaining. He talked passionately about comedians he's worked with, about different styles of comedy and the construction of jokes, and finished up with a question and answer session. He could easily have talked on for another hour at least, and the packed audience would have listened on, but time moves on...

We're now only 3 hours behind UK time, and tomorrow, we'll be halfway towards our last two stops. The sea remains choppy, and the wind is stong, although the sun is still out, and burning hot - maybe tomorrow I'll get some time to lie on the top deck and even out my tan (I've downloaded several podcasts to listen to, specifically for the job - to stave off the boredom).

Today was the first of 5 dea-days, and it's been rough; my first workshop was a bit thin on the ground, with only 7 people turning up, but things picked up for the other two classes (portraits - which was hilarious)...

I've missed my helper, of course, and it was a bit of a struggle at first to get all the tables laid out ready for the students. I reckon I'll have it off pat by Wednesday, though...

By 3 o'clock, I was starving, and quite drained. When Tracey was here, she'd bring me a ham roll and a cup of tea at the halfway point; definitely missing my partner in crime...

It's been a busy day, though, and because of that it's gone quickly. We've left the Caribbean behind, but the ship has very quickly slipped into sea-day routines. The Azores are 5 days away, but I get the feeling we'll be there before we know it.

There's a show on tonight, and a cabaret later, but I think I'm too tired to be bothered. Tonight, the clocks are going forward an hour, so tomorrow, we'll only be 3 hours behind the UK.

Today, we arrived in Bridgetown, Barbados... and it was shut. It was Sunday, of course, so the town was very, very quiet. I chose not to do very much at all today; after breakfast, I went for a walk into the town and back, photographing the inactivity (although there were some workmen repainting the zebra crossings, which was quite interesting), and dodging the taxi drivers desperate to take me around the island for just $20 per person - providing there was more than one of me - they soon back off once they realise I actually don't have any money in my pocket..

Heroes square is the centre of downtown Bridgetown, previously named Trafalgar Square, on account of having a statue of Nelson, on a column, that pre-dates our own Nelson's Column (it was erected in 1813). Around the perimeter of the square are various parliament buildings and further statues to local dignitaries and heroes, and a fountain commemorating the first clean, mains water to be be brought to the town.

I walked over the bridge to an area they call Independence Square, videoing along the way. There really wasn't much going on at all. A few bodies lay in shaded areas, presumeably sleeping, although they could have been dead - I didn't want to get too close; even at a distance, they reeked of something not very nice.

Wandering back along the promenade, back towards the cruise terminal, I stopped to film the waves rolling in and crabs on the rocks. The sea was so blue that it seemed almost unreal. This is a pleasant area, lined with trees and bustling with noisy birds. Across the opposite side of the road, I could there were several craft shops, but even they didn't appear to be open. Sweet Sunday.

The cruise terminal, on the other hand, was quite busy. Duty Free shops seemed to be doing a roaring trade, and the fact that the whole area is a free wi-fi hotspot attracts hordes of passengers with laptops, netbooks, ipads and smartphones.

Parked just behind the Marco Polo, today, was a vessel that attracted much attention, and justly so; it was a brand new ship - I guess it might be called a large yacht, but it had a funnel and decks, and wasn't that much smaller than our own ship. One could imagine it being the property of a James Bond villain, or an international playboy - it really was quite extraordinary. Many were speculating on who did actually own a ship like this - a film producer's name was bandied around, but the concencus of opinion, from some, apparently reliable sources, was that this ship, named 'Rising Sun', and registered in George Town, is in fact owned by the owner of Chelsea Football Club, Roman Abramovich. I've googled it, and can now confirm that it is in fact classed as a 'Motor Yacht', full specs of which can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rising_Sun_(yacht). It isn't owned by Abramovich, but is, in fact owned by David Geffen, a Record Executive and Film Producer, noted for creating Asylum Records and being of of the three founders of Dreamworks Pictures, along with Steven Spielberg and Jeffrey Katzenberg (a chairman of Walt Disney Pictures)... so there! The yacht is the 8th largest, of its type, in the world, and is reputed to have cost over $200 million to build.

Anyway; it really was a beautiful vessel, and clearly brand new, hardly been used, if at all. The furniture on the open-air lounges were still wrapped up, and the chrome railings gleamed; the majority of the ship was a dazzling white, with large, tinted windows throughout. No deck swimming pool, though (a bit of an oversight there, methinks - although it does have a private cinema with giant plasma screen, so I might be prepared to forgive it for that), and when I walked to the front of it, to photograph it, I noticed it was displaying one of those 'ship in distress' black ball symbols, which just goes to show... buying a new ship must be like buying a new car... I hope this wasn't a 'Friday Ship'. I walked past it, filming and taking much interest, and rather hoped that, as I walked past the open gangway, someone might invite me in for a good old look around... no-one did... how rude is that?

We left Barbados at 6pm, to the sounds of a fantastic steel drum band who'd come aboard to entertain us. Steak and Chips had been laid-on in the Pool deck, and the Rum Punches were flowing... quite a party!

We've now got no fewer than five consecutive sea-days ahead of us as we sail towards the Azores; no sooner had we left Bridgetown than the going started to get a bit rough, and the sickbag fairy has been out doing her rounds. My biography and photo are featured on the front of tomorrow's Daily Programme, so it's back to work in the morning... bring it on!

Today, we arrived in Castries. I've been here a couple of times before; last year Tracey and I escorted a tour to the Mamiku Gardens, famous for its huge collection of rare orchids, and, previous to that, in 2009, I visited it on a wet and manky day that didn't show it in its best light, and simply walked into town and back (and got very wet).

So far, on this trip, I've not been offered any tour escorting duties at all. Clearly, they do things differently on the Marco Polo, and tour escorting has, so far at least, been handed out only to members of the entertainments team and lecturers who are well-known to the shore excursions staff (I'm a bit of an outsider, having never been on the Marco Polo before, so it's looking increasingly unlikely that I'll get the chance). Not that I'm that bothered; we've enjoyed some fantastic tours in the Amazon, and when we've not been on an excursion, we've managed to arrange plenty of other exciting ways to discover a place.

This morning, though, it was looking like I'd be spending the day walking into Castries and back, and not much else. As passengers come off the ship, into the cruise terminal, they are bombarded by tourist information, guides and taxi drivers, all trying to drum up trade. I knew where it was I'd like to visit on the island, but I wasn't sure how I was going to make it happen. I had a couple of conversations with other passengers who were arranging trips with taxi drivers, but they were mostly to the North of the island, which is famous for a few forts, and although a couple of people invited me to join them, it really wasn't what I wanted to do....

St Lucia has two great natural features that I'd hitherto only seen from a distance; they're called The Pitons. They are two huge, tree-clad, 1000ft-high promontories on the coastline, several miles south of Castries, at a place called Soufriers. I'd seen photographs of them, and would really like to see them, but not many people seemed that interested. I spoke to a couple of different taxi drivers, who quoted 120 dollars to take me there - if I could find someone else who was interested, then it might be possible....

But it looked like I wasn't going to manage it. Despondently, I left the port area, heading towards the town. A taxi driver hanging around the gates there asked me if I wanted a taxi; I told him that there was no way he would take me to where I wanted to go for the money I had in my pocket (I had $30 in my pocketses). He agreed with me... $30 wouldn't cover the cost of his fuel, not to mention the long drive to get there. The best he could offer me was $100, for a minimum of 3 passengers...

I thanked him, and carried on walking, then changed my mind and started walking back towards the terminal building. The taxi driver saw me, and called to me, to clarify his price; "come to me... I'll do it for 100 dollars..." I thanked him again, and assured him that if I found someone willing to share, then I'd be back.

But it looked like I was going to be out of luck. Many passengers had already made decisions on how they were going to spend their day, and were departing, either with taxis of their own, or on foot into town. Once again, I became slightly despondent; it looked like a walk into town was going to be my only option, and started towards the gates again....

At the last minute, I spotted a group of four people who I knew, haggling with another taxi driver. I went over to them, and soon realised that they were negotiating a trip to see the Pitons. The price being quoted was 25 dollars per head for about a 4 hour round trip. I made it known that I was interested in joining the group, and they were happy for me to join them. I tried to tell them about the other taxi driver, who was offering to do the same trip for only $100, but it started getting complicated - the taxis nearer the terminal are 'officially approved', and work to a fixed rate (and they really don't like 'non-approved' drivers muscling-in on their act)... despite the fact that I felt the other guy seemed genuine enough, and was offering the better deal, I eventually gave in and said that I would be more than happy to pay $25 for my share of the trip.

I'm glad I did; our driver, Philip (pronounced fill-eep), gave us good value for money. He stopped off at endless viewpoints along the way, and regaled us with stories of the island and about himself - he looked good for 55, a father of 8 and a grandfather to 8 grandkids...

The scenery was marvellous, and the Pitons were everything I'd hoped they would be; two stunning natural monuments that form a part of one great volcanic crater. He took us as close to them as is possible while still appreciating their magnificence; right down to the sea front at Soufrieres, where the view just seemed like all the elements had been placed there for maximum impact.

After this, he took us to a waterfall nearby, which reminded me very much of Hardraw Force back at home, and then he drove us back to Castries. Finally, he took us to a beach were we had a couple of drinks and a swim. On the way back, we all opted to be dropped off in the town, so that we enjoy looking at the colourful market and would only have to walk the one way back to the ship.

Wonderful stuff!!

My first impression, when stepping off a ship in the port of St John's in Antigua, is always the same; it reminds me of a movie set. There is something slighty unreal about the place - it's extremely colourful, with colourful characters walking about the streets, and loud music everywhere... mostly of the Bob Marley variety...

Today was Tracey's last day on board ship. Her flight wasn't until late afternoon, so we took the opportunity to have a wander around St Johns. There are craft shops galore, of course, and lots of bars with free wi-fi. We meandered our way towards the southern end of the town, where every Friday, they have a farmers market. Colourful stalls were everywhere, and in the centre of the market square is a huge, life-like upper-torso statue of one of their most popular eminent politicians. It's a boisterous, bubbly place - I can't imagine anyone not liking it. In one shop we went in, the lady in there was happily singing to herself. She had a beaming smile right across the whole width of her place, and when I said to her that I noticed she seemed very happy, she nodded... "Oh yes," she said "I'm verrrrry happy." "It's because you live in such a beautiful place," I suggested. "Oh no", she replied, "It's because the Lord is with me....."

I maintain that her happiness comes mainly from the fact that there were no fewer than three cruise ships in port today - it would be imprudent of me to repeat where Tracey suggested her happiness came from...

We enjoyed our little wander, buying a few bits and bobs (including a couple of bananas, which we devoured hungrily in the market square). We caught up with the other craft lecturers, and as we enjoyed a glass of beer, we also caught up on the gossip concerning Mystic Malcolm...

Apparently there was another huge scene last night, when Michelle was sat doing some work in the conference/craft room by herself, and Mystic Malcolm let himself in with a key.

I think the whole thing has been resolved now, but I'm not entirely sure. Gareth, the Cruise Director, has reluctantly allowed Mystic Malcolm use of the conference room for a morning session only, on the understanding that he is clear of the room by the time the craft sessions start. He isn't allowed to use it in the evening; they're going to try and find him an alernative space for him to leave his 'aura' in. Why on earth, the Reception keeps handing him the key is beyond me.

Nothing is every easy is it?

We figured there was plenty of time to do everything that needed to be done. We went back to the ship and had lunch, then went to Reception to check Tracey out. We've asked several people, several times, what the procedure for checking out is, and was told that all Tracey had to do was clear her on-board account, collect her passport, then leave. We'd checked out in the morning how much a taxi fare to the airport would be ($15), and how long the journey would take (approximately 15-20 minutes), to make sure that we'd covered all bases.

I should scroll back a few months here, and recap the fact that we'd decided Tracey couldn't do the whole cruise, because she didn't have enough leave, and would have to join at Lisbon and fly home from the Caribbean. Originally, she was to be leaving the ship in Barbados, but we discovered, about a week into the trip, that the itinerary had been changed, and Barbados and Antigua had been swapped around. Fortunately, she hadn't bought the air ticket at the point, so buying tickets online to fly from Antigua instead wasn't a problem....

Bearing in mind the fact that everyone concerned has known about the arrangement since August, the first hitch came after checking-out at Reception and collecting her passport. We got all her stuff together and headed for the gangway for her to leave the ship for the last time. Only - Security wouldn't let her go... because she wasn't on the leaving list. A few anxious moments passed, as the Security Man rang through to confirm Tracey's departure. It was all very anxious because there was only one guy on the gangway, swiping passengers on and off the ship... and eventually, he told us we had to go back to Reception, because he didn't have her on the list... We told him that was where we'd just come from, but he wasn't having any of it. I started getting a bit shirty with him (as is my way), mostly because I was watching the time; Tracey's flight was due to leave at 17:30pm. She was supposed to check in two hours before, and it was now well gone 2pm. We'd both seen the heavy traffic in the town, and was worried about delays...

So, we went all the way back up to Reception, just for the girl there to tell us it was all sorted, and that Tracey could now disembark.

So; we disembarked, found a taxi, and I waved Tracey off as she disappeared into the hubbub of traffic.

Feeling at a bit of a loose end, I wandered the streets briefly again, took another look at the farmers market, and headed back to the ship. It was hot outside, and I didn't feel very sociable, so I went back to the cabin to download my videos from camera to laptop to do a bit of editting....

We'd agreed that Tracey would text me as soon as she was at the airport, and to let me know that everything was okay. I got a text from her at quarter past 4... telling me to meet her at the immigration building by the quayside.... she needed 30 dollars for taxi fare. I was confused; why would she come all the way back from the airport, where there are ample ATMs, to get more dollars from me for a taxi fare???

It turned out, this wasn't the problem...

The problem was; what NOBODY had told us, despite our constant requests for clarification of what the disembarkation and checking-out procedure should be for Tracey, was that she hadn't been cleared by Immigration at the Port Authority.... AAAAAAARGH!!! Virgin Atlantic wouldn't let her on the plane until she'd been cleared... which meant she had to come back to the port, receive clearance, and then return to the airport, hopefully in time for the flight (hence the need for a further $30 for an unexpected two-way trip).

I hung around for her at Immigration and waited anxiously for her to arrive. Fortunately, the clearance procedure only took about 5 minutes... then the taxi driver whisked her off again, in the direction of the airport. Tracey had been told that they'd need her there for 4:45pm at the latest.... It was gone 4:30...

She made it.

I received a text from Tracey at 4 minutes to 5, with those very words.

Talk about cutting things fine....

Yesterday (Wednesday), we visited St. George's, in Grenada. The last time I visited it was in 2008 - it was New Year's Day, and it was shut. This time around was very different. There were two other cruise liners there already; a Princess Lines and a Celebrity Cruises ship, but they were docked in the larger of the two quays - we were docked nicely in the old town. St. Georges is very much a town of two halves, with a population of only 8000 (smaller than Richmond, in Yorkshire); on one side is the quiet, old town, surrounding a quaint harbour fronted by many bars and restaurants. The other side is much busier, with a market square, a massive cruise terminal building, and a couple of large churches. The two halves are divided by a hillside on top of which is an old fort; another way to get from one to the other is via a short road tunnel...

We began our day by walking around the harbour edge to the road tunnel. It's a one-way passage used by both cars and pedestrians, but with no clear distinction between the two (ie. no pavement). In other words; you take your life into your own hands if you choose to walk through to the other side of town this way...

We ambled around the market and managed to pick up a repacement pair of sunglasses for me, for only $8. It's a friendly place, where you're constantly being hit upon by traders trying to sell you stuff. They do it in such a friendly manner, though, that it sort of doesn't matter.

We'd taken 30 dollars with us into town. After buying my sunglasses and another couple of small things, we had exactly $16 dollars left - exactly the price that had been quoted to us by one of the water-taxis, drumming up business in the old town harbour. The nearest beach is only a couple of miles away, but with the heat and the hills, we decided that a water taxi would be a fun way to get to it. On top of which, the car taxis had all quoted $20 (£5 per person, each way). When we got back to the old harbour, however, the water taxi was nowhere in sight, so we just headed towards the Marco Polo, thinking we were going to have to get back on ship to change some more money in order to get to the beach. As it turned out, we got hassled by one of the car taxxi drivers, asking if we wanted a lift to the beach. We pointed out that we literally only had $16 on us, and that, yes we would love to go to the beach if he was prepared to accept the lower rate, which he did "It's not always, de money," he said, "it's about you guys having a good time on our island".... awwwwwww!

So; our taxi driver took us to the beach, and asked us how long we wanted to stay there. We agreed on an hour and a half, and he promised to pick us up then. We had a fantastic 90 minutes, swimming and chilling.... wonderful!

When our 90 minutes were up, we made our way back to the appointed place, and our taxi driver took us back to the ship. Because we hadn't got into port until 1:30pm, it was getting to be quite late on now. The ship wasn't due to leave until 8pm, though, so we went back on board, changed some more money, changed into some dry clothes, and went back out to enjoy St. Georges Old Town. The sun was going down, and the light was beautiful - producing some perfect photo opportunities. We found a German Bar with an upstairs open balcony looking out over the harbour, and watched, with drinks in hand, as passengers made their way back towards the ship. It was a glorious evening in Grenada.

Today (Thursday), we arrived at Mayreau, one of a group of islands known as The Grenadines. It's a small island, meaning we had to drop anchor and go ashore by tender. We've had quite a swell for the last few days and, today, it showed no sign of abating. In fact; after arriving there at about 7:30am, and letting the tour parties off first, they made an announcement that they'd decided to move us to a different anchorage position, in the hope of finding somewhere a little calmer. Getting people off the ship and into the tender boats can be quite hazardous in these conditions, and one announcement over the tannoy encouraged people to look over the side of the boat and check out the way the tender boats were being thrown about before obtaining a tender ticket.

The process of moving the ship took about an hour, which Tracey and I decided to use to top up our tans on the top deck. I've caught the sun, but, because I've been wearing t-shirts, the tan stops just below my armpits and below my neckline. With my top off, I look like a brazilian wearing a white t-shirt... Having made the mistake of lying in the tropical sun for too long and suffering later for it, in the past, we decided that 15-minutes each side should be strictly adhered to, and used a mobile phone alarm to remind us when to turn over - it was just like preparing a meal in a microwave.

Mayreau is a tiny island, with only 300 inhabitants (I'm sure we have more people than that living on our street). When I say tiny - I really mean 'tiny'; I'm sure 850 cruise ship visitors was a nice little boost to their economy. There isn't a huge amount to do there except walk up the one road on the island to the tiny, unnamed village (which had some impressive views over the Tobago Cays, and a lovely little church), drink in the bars, and swim in the crystal clear waters off its white sandy beaches. As Andy Ford said, as we were waiting to reboard the tender boat at the end of our visit "I don't know about you, but I've had worse days!".

There were a couple of people for whom remembering a worse day might be a problem. There were two excursions today, both catamarran trips to view the surrounding islands, and the local uninhabited islands known collectively as the Tobago Cays (many used as film locations for the Pirates of the Caribbean films). As is customary; there were ample amounts of free Rum Punch on offer to all passengers on said trips...

One chap was so paraletic after his excursion that when he went in the sea for a swim afterwards, he'd been spotting crawling out of the sea, because he couldn't stand up. His poor wife didn't know what to do with him; he sat in a chair by the bar blathering and swearing, and everytime she tried to encourge him to take the walk to the tender boat, he slipped into incoherent mumbo jumbo, in which words pertaining to the fact that he wanted the loo (or words to that effect) were somewhere embedded...

Despite well-meaning words from fellow passengers as to how the poor chap might improve his sense of well-being, and several glasses of water from the bar, he was finally transferred to the tender boat on a plastic chair, carried by two burly blokes from the ship. How they were going to get him into the tender, and more intriguingly, how they were going to get him out of the tender onto the ship at the other end provided endless spectulation for the nearby passengers, who were also waiting to board a tender boat (but none wanted to share the same tender as the inebriated one). By all accounts, he was lifted out of the tender to the ship by two other burly blokes, rather like a roll of carpet. The last thing I saw of the incident was one chap rinsing out the plastic chair in the sea...

Sun, sea, Rum Punch and No Breakfast.... a lethal combination...

Tonight is Tracey's last night on board. Tomorrow, we arrive in Antigua, from where she will be flying home. It's a sad moment, but we're trying to be upbeat about it. She'll be missing a whole stack of sea-days and the Azores, and has enjoyed the best bits of the cruise - The Amazon, and Iles du Salut.

Today's been a very sleepy day. I put it down to a combination of the energy-sapping heat and the constant rocking of the boat. Even on the noon-day navigational information announcement, the sea was described as 'rough', and by gum, it has been indeed. Not 'very rough', but a rythmical up-and down of a fairground ride that just sends you to sleep.

Despite all that, I've had a good turn-out again for my classes; the remedials were doing 'skies', and the advanced groups were doing 'white water'. I'm certainly very happy having sold a fourth painting from my current 'Amazon Collection', and there's only one 'Woolley's Wonderbrush' pack left...

Tracey did her last workshop with me today. Starting tomorrow, we have a run of 5 consecutive port days, the third of which (Friday), she'll be leaving on a flight for home. I don't know what I'm going to do without her; doing three workshops means I miss lunch, but today, she brought me a Beefburger and chips between my 12:30 and 2pm class - mmm mmmmmmm!

After the classes finished this afternoon, we had a cup of tea/coffee on deck before retiring to the cool of the cabin for a two hour snooze - it wasn't meant to be that long, but that's just the way the day's been; the double bleep of the in-cabin tannoy preceeded Garth's early evening round-up of the evening's entertainment, and woke us up.

Last night, they did a Marco Polo version of 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire', in the Marco Polo Lounge, which was very entertaining, and this evening, we were treated to a pantomime - 'Cinderella', which was predictably brilliant, and very funny.

There's also an early evening disco, tonight out on deck, for everyone to strut their funky stuff and get on down with their bad sounds... tonight, the clocks go back an hour again, which will put us 4 hours behind the UK. I suspect the disco will be popular, too, with everyone having had a sleepy day, and an extra hour to kill - otherwise, no-one's going to sleep properly tonight.

Tonight is the last time we had to take the Malorone (yeeey), and tomorrow, we are due to arrive at the first of our West Indies ports: St. Georges, in Grenada - it's a place I didn't think I'd been to before, but I've just checked back, and realised that I was there on New year's Day in 2008.

An interesting thing happened tonight on the way to the panto....

As we walked past the conference room (our craft room), I noticed there was someone in there. It was a bloke - a passenger, in fact. He appeared to be rearranging tables for some sort of a meeting, and I was curious, so I popped my head around the door. I asked what he was using the room for, and he said to me that this room was used for meditation throughout the day. This confused me... he clearly didn't realise that I'm the painting tutor, and that I spend 5 hours of every sea day in the room, and that Pam and Michelle each spend a further 3 to 4 hours in there... My confusion started to show, but there was something very strange about his manner... which confused me even more... and I left...

I should say at this point that all the craft tutors were told right at the start of the cruise that that particular room had been designated the craft room, and would be used for that purpose only, and no other. Not only that - strict guidelines regarding the use of the key to that room were carefully laid out to all of us; were were told that the key is a master key and must be signed out from reception, and signed back in by the same person. At no time must the key be handed over or held on to. All three of us (but Pam and Michelle in particular) keep gear in the room... expensive, and irreplaceable gear... so making sure the room is never left unlocked without supervision is of paramount importance...

It turns out, both Michelle and Pam have had a few run-ins with him, at the opposite ends of the day. It turns out... this chap has taken it upon himself to use our room for meditation, and has signed out the key without any prior consultation with, or agreement from, the Cruise Director. It turns out... the Cruise Director is furious...

This chap has decided that the craft room is the perfect room for him to meditate in... in fact; it's the only room he can meditate in (apparently). It's something to do with his 'chakra'... He just sits there quietly by himeslf... crucially; he leaves his aura in that room...

Well, needless to say; this hasn't gone down too well with the craft tutors. It's a free country, of course, and it takes all sorts, but it seems like Mystic Malcolm is getting ideas a bit above his station. He's muscled his way into the room after Michelle's class on more than one occasion, and let himself in there very early of a morning, before Pam's class, and has still been there when she's turned up on more than one occasion (I'm sort of in the middle, so I've not really had to deal with him). It all came to a bit of a head this evening when all three of us went to check to see if he was still in the room, meditating... between you and me, we were planning on gawping at him through the window and distrupting his chakra by having to check our stuff.... he wasn't there... but the door had been left unlocked...

Complaints of the highest order have been lodged with the Cruise Director about this situation... watch this space!

We didn't know quite what to expect today. Our stay in Iles du Salut was to be a short one, arriving at 8am, with a leaving time of 2pm. After reading all the info we'd been provided, though, on paper at least, it seemed like it would be ample time.

Iles du Salut actually consists of three small islands; Ile Royale, Ile St. Joseph and Ile du Diable (Devil's Island). Collectively, they are infamous for one one thing; their use as a Penal Colony between 1852 and 1953. The conditions in which prisoners were kept and the horrific treatments they were subjected to is well-documented - two of its most famous prisoners were Captain Alfred Dreyfus, who was falsely accused of treason, and Henri Charriere, who eventually managed to escape from the islands on two sacks filled with coconuts - His exploits have been immortalised in his novel and film, 'Papillon' (starring Steve McQueen and Dustin Hoffman).

Ile Royale was our destination; what was originally the administrative centre for the colony, but also housed many of the solitary confinement cells and courtyards, where prisoners were forced to witness exectutions by guillotine, of inmates who where caught trying to escape. What we'd been told to expect was a small island that can be circumnavigated in about half an hour, and one that doesn't have roads or much to speak of, except a small museum and gift shop...

I think they'd grossly under-sold it to us.

What we discovered when we finally got there, via tender, (at about 10am, for us) was an absolute gem of a place. It's all overgrown now, of course, and nature has largely taken over; palm trees are everywhere, and as we walked around the perimeter of the island, we saw turtles swimming in the shallow waters, agoutis-a-plenty (a kind of palm-rat - very large and brightly coloured, and tame as anything), and a colony of small monkeys. Also; within minutes of being on the island, we wondered about a loud buzzing noise that seemed to be coming from the trees, that sounded more like some sort of mechanical saw, echoing through the forest, but was told that it was a sound made by small beatles... it was a spooky sound that could easily drive one quite batty.

Everywhere you looked, there was something to photograph; Tracey even spotted a couple of humming birds. Despite its grizzly past, the place is now like a tropical paradise, and, as we followed the tracks slowly upwards, to the centre, and highest point, of the island, we came across the old buildings that now stand as a monument to its history. Here, were the remains of cell-blocks that one wouldn't want to spend two minutes locked up in, never mind the 2-year, and 5-year solitary confinement stretches that Papillon endured. Bodies of dead prisoners were thrown into the sea around the islands, and the blood from executions ran down drains to the sea, encouraging sharks to hang around the area, and deter potential escapees. In its time as a penal colony, Devil's island was totally deforested to prevent convicts from building boats; it's all now completely overgrown and bursting with palms - the sharks still remain, though, and we were warned, before leaving the ship, not to go swimming because of sharks.

Everyone we spoke to agreed on one thing; we all wished we'd had longer there. There is a restaurant and bar in the centre of the island (at which we were charged the princely sum of 7 euros for a small bottle of beer and a can of sprite - it felt like being mugged in broad daylight), but there was so much more... We could easily have spent the whole afternoon meandering, watching the monkeys (which were very tame and clearly used to visitors), and watching the turtles. I've always been a huge fan of 'Papillon', and so, for me, it brought it all alive. It was slightly frustrating that we didn't have longer, but the few hours we did have there are something that I'll treasure.

These days, the islands are controlled by the Guiana Space Centre, which was just visible on the mainland, at Kourou. When rockets are launched, the islands and surrounding seas are evacuated. It's interesting to note that, if you look up the islands on Google Earth, you'll find they are pixelated out.

I've had a busy day of workshops, and sold another painting - woo hooooooo!

Tonight was a formal night, and the show company put on their rendition of 'Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat'. I only know one song from that, but was generally impressed with what was quite an ambitious production.

Tomorrow, we are due to arrive at Iles de Salut - very excited!

We've spent our last day on the Amazon River. For most of the day, the forest has been visible from both sides of the boat, but the expanse has got slowly wider as we head towards the Atlantic Ocean. Having said this; by early evening, we were still on the river. so I can only assume that we'll hit open sea sometime in the early hours of the morning.

This morning, the wind was blowing so hard, it whipped the sunglasses off my face and into the river... I'm a little reluctant to spend £13 on a pair from the ship's shop, so replacing them will have to wait until we reach civilisation, and I'll just have to squint. At this point, I should say that £13 is the cheapest pair on offer - there was a pair with a designer label on them, which cost £150 - frankly, they all looked a little girlie to me... just as well, really. It looked like it was going to be turning into a bad sunglasses day, as sometime soon after my incident, Tracey started looking anxiously for her own sunglasses, which had mysteriously disappeared - my loss is relatively small, since they only cost me a fiver in the first place - Tracey's are a prescription pair which cost about £300 to replace - makes the Ray-Bans seem quite cheap in comparison. The good news is; they'd been handed into Reception, so panic over.

One thing which was noticeable this morning was our speed. Heading downriver, we have the current behind us, but the captain also seemed to be putting his foot down rather. We seemd to be fair chugging along, and the funnel was chucking out a light, occasional smattering of ash, which was falling onto the open Pool Deck. One chap was quite annnoyed at this, and called one of the officials over to complain in no uncertain terms; "How can we be expected to eat our breakfast and drink orange juice out on deck with this ash falling? It's just not good enough"... I'm not entirely sure what other chap was supposed to do about it - go and ask the captain to slow down, or stop the engines altogether, I presume. Best solution was simple; go and eat breakfast somewhere else...

It has been noted that some people will complain about anything - and agressively so. Our electrical problem, a few days ago, brought out the complainers in force - one assumes that they're out for some sort of compensation, and that a free glass of champagne and free wine with dinner on the following night, just wouldn't be enough to appease some folk.

It's been back to work for me. The good news is; I've sold a couple of paintings - one of an Egret, and one featuring boats and a stilt house... needless to say; later this afternoon has been spent in the cabin painting more to replace them - gotta strike while the iron's hot...

Today we arrived at what is, sadly, our last Amazon port; Santarem.

The day began early because we were booked on an excursion - Maica Lake and Piranha fishing. It turned out to be a popular choice amongst the passengers, with 5 large river boats waiting to take everyone on their trip, and similar numbers booked to do it all again in the afternoon. Compared to many of the ports we've visited, Santarem seems quite small, but it is still extremely busy, with boats preparing to take passengers on their long trips to the other cities and villages in the region (some taking 3 or 4 days). Regular travellers in this part of the world carry their own hammocks with them, which are hung up for the duration of their journey. One of the boats we saw had loads of hammocks, of all sizes and colours, all ready hung up, and many occupied by their owners. On the deck below them, a truck-load of new motorbikes were being loaded - folks like their bikes around here...

Once aboard our own boat, we were taken to see the meeting of the waters, where the Amazon meets the Tapajos River. As is customary, our guide explained how the bizarre spectacle comes to be, with the two rivers being of differet temperatures, speeds and densities (the Tapajos is clear, while the Amazon is full of sediment carried down from its source in the Peruvian Andes. the two water courses travel side by side for several miles, creating a discernible line between the two. It was at this point that we also saw several grey dolphins. We've actually seen quite a number of dolphins on this trip, but my attempts at videoing them have been quite lame.... you simply don't know where they're going to pop their heads up next - consequently, I have lots of footage of water, where the dolphins have been but aren't now, and little else.

The water way became narrower and more interesting as we made our way to Maica Lake. For me, this was the best part of the excursion, with the river bank being only a few feet away from us. We saw loads of birds, and several large Iguanas.

When we finally reached our destination, it was time to do a spot of fishing. They pulled the boat into the bank and handed out lines, ready loaded with a lump of fresh meat. Everyone cast their lines over the side and jiggled them about in the hope of atttracting piranha. Several people had a few nibbles - myself included - but it looked like it simply wasn't going to happen for us, so we moved to a different location in the hope of finding some fish that weren't vegetarian. In the half an hour or so that we fished, a grand total of 2 piranhas were caught, to the rousing cheers of everyone on board. I have to say, they were much bigger than I expected them to be, and it was fascinating to see them up close and personal, wriggling away as photos were taken as proof of our expertise. All-in-all, it was a relaxing half hour, and the couple of nibbles that I got on the end of my own line provided a bit of a buzz, but I don't think I'll be taking up fishing any time soon.

We were back at the ship for about 1:30. just in time for lunch. After a bit of a power nap (both Tracey and I were completely exhausted, mostly from the intense heat, and the excitement of the piranha fishing), we spent our last afternoon walking into Santarem. We were approached by two students who turned out to be quite charming, and wanted to just talk to us, ask us loads of questions, and try out their English. We said farewell to them somewhere near the fish mmarket, taking photos and Tracey promising to keep in touch through Facebook.

Santarem is reputedly the third largest city in Amazonas. You wouldn't think it, though; it is nothing like Manaus or Belem, with a character more in similarity to Parintins or Almeirim. It's colourful, and vibrant, and slightly whacky; a cyclist rode past with an enormous speaker (I'm talking easily 3-foot square) strapped to the back of it, blaring out music... why? And what was powering it? We have no idea. Another chap took our eye, as he struggled to drag a reluctant goat off one of the many boats that were moored up by the quayside. At the same time, we also spotted a very old, and quite battered, Volkswagon Beetle pulling up to the side of the road, being driven by a wizened old man. The man with the goat pulled, and the goat dug its heels in, quite comically; the old man in the Beetle sat patiently... to our amazement, the young man with the goat and the old man with the Beetle came together, shook hands, exchanged money, and the goat was shuffled into the back of the Beetle and driven off... I wondered if this was a kid-napping...

We like Santarem. Come to think of it; we've loved all the places we've visited on this trip. They've all had their own character and all have been extremely friendly, and quite welcoming - one wonders what this area is going to be like in 50, or 100, years from now - will it retain its ecological stance? Or will it be unrecogniseable? Our guide today pointed to an area on the outskirst of Santarem, which had been badly flooded quite recently. The old buildings that had been there previously have been washed away, or damaged beyond repair and demolished, to make way for a new estate to be built. I know that progress has to be made, but the new estate looked quite ugly to my eyes, and not entirely in keeping with the area. Is this a sign of things to come? I hope not...

Tomorrow, we leave Brazil and head towards Isle de Salut, in French Guiyana, which is famous for its penal colony. To help set the scene for this visit, the Marco Polo Lounge was turned into cinema mode, showing 'Papillon', with Steve McQueen and Dustin Hoffman. What a classic! I can't wait for our visit to Devil's Island...

Being at sea tomorrow means back to work... three classes starting at 11am. 

I got my days mixed up - in my last post, I said that today we would be in Santarem - I was wrong; today we arrived in Boca do Valeria (it's piranha-fishing in Santarem tomorrow).

Boca do Valeria is as close to the genuine Amazon experience as I think it's possible to get from a cruise ship. Ships can't actually get to the village - they have to anchor out in the river and approach it in tender boats.

Even before the lifeboats had been prepared, the first boat from the village had come out to take a good look at us. By the time the first bunch of passengers have been ferried across the short expanse of water to the tiny inlet leading to Boca do Valeria, people from all the surrounding villages have started to descend on the place, bringing crafts to sell, and dressing the young girls up in their very best native regalia, in an effort to extract as much money from the wealthy tourists as possible. As passengers alight from the tender craft, they are surrounded by eager native children, taking the hand of the unwary, on a bid to guide them around the village, hopefully pose for photographs, and charge the going rate of one dollar for the privilege.

This may all sound rather dubious, but there's another side to Boca do Valeria that makes the visit special. After wandering around the craft stalls and photographing the sloths, capibara and lizards that constitute pets in these parts, we teamed up with Louise and John Bonner, two of the other lecturers on board, and hired one of the $5 per person boat-rides on offer. From our previous visit, last year, we knew this to be extremely good value for money; mostly because it provided us with a ride in a small boat, along some less-visited waterways, but also because the boatman took us to his own village (the same one we were taken to last year, as it happened), which was a total delight. He showed us their well-appointed school, and the village church, and the few villages there, who hadn't dashed off to Boca do Valeria, came out to greet us in a superb display of hospitality; the best $10 we've spent!

On returning to Boca do Valeria, we had a welcome drink in the bar there, and then went for a walk along a forest track that took us deeper and deeper into the jungle. It was an extraordinary stroll... once the sounds of the village had died away, the only sounds to be heard was a cacophony of birds and insects. The heat was stifling, and the midges were biting... hurrah for Deet! We walked as far as we felt we needed to; the track was becoming more and more dense, and the odd few people who had managed to walk further, all said that it didn't get any better, and that fallen trees had eventually stopped them from proceeding any further.

All in all, it has been an excellent day. We both love Boca Do Valeria, and despite the fact that the culture shock has a tendency to divide passengers, I think the experience was largely enjoyed by the majority. Money changes hands for many reasons, and those natives that have very little, benefit from our visit in all sorts of ways. They are as curious of us as we are of them, and the over-riding feeling is one of overt friendliness. A flotilla of local small boats vied for position at the rear of the Marco Polo, ready to take any items thrown to them; food parcels, made up of left-over cakes and sandwiches were thrown to them, along with items of clothing and toiletries. In an effort to promote 'responsible tourism', the ship had collected items for the local school from the passengers, and presented them to the village leaders early in the day; we happily paid $15 dollars for a hand-carved wall-hanging...

Excellent Day!!!

Then the wi-fi kicked me off, and I lost it... (my own fault - save often!!!)

The gist of it was that, after dinner, we went looking for the crazy, bustling, throbbing night-life of Amazon's largest city, and failed...

It is, by all standards, a massive conurbation, that does throb and pulsate, long into the evening, but we, like many others off the ship ended up not going very far, and ending up back at the terminal bar, watching out for the cockroaches that occasionally scuttled across the floor and under the tables, perilously close to our feet.

Today was a good day.

We went on a river tour that we did last year, and enjoyed it just as much a second time around. First, we were taken to see the 'Meeting of the Waters', where the brown Amazon (actually, more like Raw Sienna) meets the Negra River (Dark something-or-other). Because the two rivers are of different temperatures and densities, they create a visible line between them, which is quite remarkable to see. After this, we were taken to Lake January, a small village on one of the local tributaries, were we were transferred to small motorised canoes for a trip deeper into the jungle. It was thoroughly enjoyable, with lots of great photo opportunities, and tons of wildlife (birds mostly) - a real taste of the life in this part of the world.

We were back at the ship for about 1pm. After a quick lunch, we returned to the city to enjoy our last few hours seeing whatever was to be seen. We returned to the Opera House area, via the busy streets, which are chock-a-block with market stalls. It's all rather difficult to describe, actually. I suppose in a strange way, they resemble the souks of North Africa, but in a thoroughly modern setting. Imagine a busy modern city centre with market stalls overlayed and morphed onto almost every street length. It is extremely busy, and has a good atmosphere... but... mostly because of many reports of thefts and muggings, I don't feel too comfortable about whipping my video camera out to try and capture it all - Tracey took a couple of photos, though, so I'm sure they'll be appearing on her blog soon.

Alongside the Opera House is a large building called the Palace of Justice. We decided to take a look - half, because we knew it was free entry, and half because the rain was starting to come down again... we were mightily pleased that we'd made the diversion, because it was a beautiful building inside, and a young lady who guided us around the upper floors was so enthusiastic, and energetic, it didn't matter that she didn't speak much English - we managed to understand each other somehow, and the tour around the courtrooms and magistrates offices, that were still used up until 2006, was a thoroughly satisfying one. It's now a cultural centre - the ground floor rooms were being used for a photographic exhibition, which we also thoroughly enjoyed... all for free (my kind of price!).

We've just spent out last hour in Manaus taking advantage of the free wi-fi. t's all about in just over half an hour, and we set sail for Santarem at 6:30.

Tomorrow, we're booked down to do some piranha fishing.....

I say hobbled because the electrics haven't yet been fully restored. There are still many people who haven't got light in their cabins, and until they're able to do a full, controlled, restore at half-past midnight tonight, there are may areas of the ship going to remain in semi-darkness.

The problems we've had had meant a delay, which has had a knock-on effect on planned excursions. We'd originally planned to be on a city tour of Manaus this afternoon, and a river tour tomorrow. When they announced that this afternoon's tours would not be going ahead as planned, we were faced with a decision; we couldn't do both - so, we opted to take our names off the city trip and stay on the river tour tomorrow. this was a bit of a gamble, since the primary reason we wanted to do the city tour was to see the inside of the Opera House here, which we missed out on last year. We decided that we could make a dash for the Opera House once clearance had been given to go ashore, and, if not get a guided tour today, at least check out costs and available times to come back tomorrow...

We were in luck...

An English-speaking tour was literally about to start, just as we entered the building. We'd absolutely legged it from the port, up past the Cathedral, along Manaus's busy main street, thinking we'd missed the last tour (it was approaching 4:30pm at this point).

Legging it meant we got to share the tour with just two other people - a young American couple, who are currently on a massive tour of South America, from new York, and commented on the fact that ours were the first English-speaking people they'd met inn two days.

The Opera House is pretty amazing, and more than worth the 10 Reals (about £5) each.. the ship's tour was going to have cost us about 80 quid!!

Our guide was struggling with his English, and admitted he was new to it all, but what he lacked in language, he more than made up for in enthusiasm, and the look around one of Brazil's most famous crown jewels was an excellent experience.

We're currently enjoying free wi-fi in the Terminal building, allowing us to update blogs and check email etc. before heading back on board ship for dinner.

We're here until 6:30pm tomorrow evening, so any available opportunity we'll get to come ashore, I'm sure we'll be taking. Hopefully by the early hours of tomorrow morning, the Marco Polo will be back to its old self again, and we can continue on our trip without any further hitches.