This evening, I got a bit of a shock when I went down to dinner, to discover that I'd been changed to a different table. I sat down in my usual seat and a waiter came and announced that it was no longer my seat. I wasn't alone, it seems, as other people had also been moved around, so I didn't take it personally, and the table I was moved to was populated by Peter Fisher, the violinist who had been amongst the group who went ashore after the New Year fireworks and is a great laugh, and Anthony, a larger than life welsh opera singer who performed for us last night, so I wasn't entirely unhappy with the move. The talk was of agents and contracts; all very entertaining. It does seem rather odd to me, however, to be moved with only 2 more full days of the cruise remaining. Despite my misgivings when I'd first joined the table, I'd got to know my fellow diners and even grown to like a couple of them (in fact; as Margot had shared her wine with me on more than one occasion, I had planned to return the favour tonight, but it wasn't to be).

After dinner I joined in the quiz night with a group of ladies I'd never spoken to before but they seemed happy for me to join them, and we scored 15 out of 20. The joint-winning teams scored 18. their tie-break question was: what year did John Gielgud die?

Then it was showtime in the Grand Ballroom, and what an event that was! Tonight's performance was a musical tribute to 'Les Miserables', which I'm in no way familiar with, but enjoyed what I heard. All through the evening, the ship's movement has gradually got more pronounced, with some serious rolling from side-to-side. So much so, that the Polaris Club is closed (I've had to find my way into the internet room, which is above the Polaris club, to type this, through a back way, and I can tell you that we are experiencing some serious rocking!!) Anyway, about half way through one of the numbers, the ship took a particularly big lurch. It was wierd, really because you could feel it coming. The whole of the ballroom started to sway towards the right; curtains swayed with it, and for a strange moment, the entire Saga Rose Orchestra slid about two feet across the stage. Music stands fell over and unoccupied chairs fell over, and the poor lass that was singing just kept on going, until there was a crash over in the far corner as two people went flying out of their chairs and there was a kind of communal gasp as several glasses smashed to the floor, and then someone called out 'cut!' and the house light came on, after which there was pandemonium for several minutes as the damage was assessed. The couple who had fallen over were quickly attended to and taken out to see the doctor, but thankfully no major injuries had occurred. Within about 5 minutes the show resumed, with the house lights going off again and the singer taking off from exactly where she left off, to wild applause and shouts of "Bravo!". Ironically enough, her first lines when she started singing were 'There are storms we cannot weather....'

Both Peter and I had moaned a little bit over dinner how the promised bad seas hadn't really transpired yet - certainly not to the extent that was predicted. Both he and I rather enjoy the severe weather and the rockier the ship, the better. At this precise moment in time, though, I can honestly say this is the worst I've known it - wooah, there we go again - and I can hear things falling to the floor as I type. I must stop thinking of 'The Poseidon Adventure'....