I changed my mind last night about The Da Vinci Code. When it came to it, it seemed daft to give over the best part of 3 hours to watching a movie that not only had I seen before, but didn't particularly like. So, after dinner I sat and listened to a classical music recital given by three very talented musicians, in the Brittannia Lounge. This was followed by Will Allenby in the ballroom, a baritone who sang opera and songs from musicals. Very nice... but...

I found myself drifting off slightly during his performance, looking around me at all these passengers and crew and the environment in which I find myself and thinking how slightly bizarre it is to be cooped up in a ballroom on a boat in the middle of the mediterranean sea listening to a bloke singing. The reason I find it a little wierd is this: it occured to me that this is like a microcosm - it's a self-contained existence - everything is done for you - I heard someone say that the difference between being on the boat and being at home is that if you drop a towel on the bathroom floor and leave it there, the next time you go into the bathroom it's gone; at home, it would still be there! Cabins are cleaned three times a day - everytime I go back there it's been tidied up, and things put away in their proper places! There is no money on board - everyone carries a card with their name and cabin number printed on it, and all you do if you want a drink from the bar is hail a passing barman and he'll bring it to you and give you a chitty to sign. Of course, this doesn't mean you don't pay for it, but the illusion is a powerful one. I discussed this last night with a chap called John, from my dining table, and he agreed with me that it's very much like being in a virtual reality.

Something that Will Allenby said when he came on, after being preceded by two dancers (can't remember their names offhand); he said they'd been asked to stay on for the world tour. World Tour! The Saga Ruby follows this cruise by embarking on a 4-month world excursion. Now, I know for a fact that there are people on board who have not only done that tour before but are planning to go off and do it again after finishing this one! Will Allenby himself announced that he would only be on board this ship until Christmas Eve when he returns home, only to be flying off on late Christmas Day to be joining another cruise in Antarctica!

Now, I'm only 5 (or is it 6? I'm starting to lose track already) days into the cruise and I'm looking at almost 3 weeks still stretching ahead of me, and I'm starting to think several things. Firstly, how strange is it going to be to go back to 'reality'? As I've already said - this is a self-contained virtual existence - from where I'm sitting, the real world seems a long way away. There's no doubt that some people - not just passengers, but crew and instructers alike - seem to live almost permanently on board ship. From the passengers point of view, does going on cruises become addictive? I think so; the few people I've spoken to most definitely live for the next tour! From the crew's point of view, do they see ship-life as the norm and everything else as being outside their own reality?

What must it be like to do a 4-month tour? I'm really having trouble visualising it.

The day-to-day routine, whilst very pleasant and enjoyable, as I see it, could possibly send me stark-raving bonkers. It's for this reason that I've offered my services as tour escort on any forthcoming excursions (despite my baptism-by-fire in Cadiz) - apart from giving me the opportunity to make the absolute most of the trip and keep my expenses to a minimum, it provides a diversion from the monotony of ship life. I spoke to a lovely old lady at breakfast this morning, who is from New York City. She's come across the Atlantic for this trip, and yet she's been told because she's an American citizen she'd not allowed off the boat at any point on the trip - and she wasn't told this until they'd taken her money! She's not even permitted to step onto the dockside!