Well folks I'm a little rough this morning. My voice has all but gone, but the cold seems to be loosening, if you know what I mean. Sorry if that seems like a little too much information, but I like to keep you up-to-date.

So, last night the Saga Ruby saw the new year in in style. From about 11:30 onwards, passengers and crew started congregating out on open deck. We'd left port but remained anchored just off the coast of Sicily, where the lights of Palermo could be clearly seen. I stood on one of the upper decks so that I could look down on proceedings and take photos. With all the activity going on, I soon realised what I really needed was my video camera, so I dashed back downstairs to my cabin and returned ready to capture it all on film. We had the traditional countdown and cheers and everyone went loopy, as they do. At the bottom end of the deck, several crew stood with long boards that had these great white fireworky-type things that flared to life upon the stroke of midnight, and many people had their own individual bangs and streamers, and of course the booze flowed freely. The coast also came instantly to life, with fireworks lighting up the sky, and everyone started singing Auld Lang Syne, as you do. The bagpiper who had earlier heralded the grand entrance of the haggis let rip, and that was that. 2006 became a distant memory and 2007 was here, with whatever it has to offer. I've often thought; if I could go forward in time and see the future, would I want to? And I think the answer has to be 'no'. What I've learned in the last 12 months (apart from never leave your lunch unattended in the Dining Room) is that you absolutely never know what is around the corner. No matter how much you plan and dream and put faith in the things you believe in, things can turn on a sixpence at the drop of a hat, to use a rather poor double-analogy. Your life can change in an instant, and you never saw it coming. So to glimpse the future would almost certainly confuse me - I feel I need to watch everything that happens in the here and now, as it happens, in order to try and understand, as fully as possible, what happens next, if that makes any sense at all. I'm occasionally confronted with people who want to learn watercolour, but want some sort of fast-track to success, and what I have to tell them is that it doesn't exist. Success in painting comes through hard work and perservance - but even that doesn't guarantee success (every time at least). Watercolour is a very unpredictable beast, which can often surprise you and frustrate you in equal measure - a lot like life, in fact. End of lecture.

So the dancing, that had begun downstairs in the Ballroom had finally spilled out into the night air, and the Starlight Trio started playing in the Preview Bar. Last night, the Preview Bar looked fantastic. It had hundreds of streamers hanging from the ceiling and balloons absolutely everywhere (so much that you literally couldn't see the opposite side of the room), and the atmosphere was electric. It was like a geat, pulsating grotto. Also the place was full to bursting, which is not something that happens regularly; it's usually very low-key, 10 or 15 people sat around round tables in deep armchairs just drinking and chatting and occasionally dancing on the small dance-floor there until about 1:30am, which is when the band finish playing and the barstaff start locking up the bar for the night. Last night it was heaving. People crammed onto the dance-floor, the band just kept on playing and the barstaff just kept on serving, and all this was still going on at full pelt when I finally threw the towel in and left at 3:40am.

Tomorrow night there's going to be a passenger talent show, so I've put my name down for it (well, why not). I collared the organiser, Lauren, who is the Assistant Cruise Director, and asked if it was okay for lecturers to participate, and she said yes, so at some point between now and tomorrow night I'm going to be invited to a rehearsal; they're going to sort me out a guitar and capo, and I'm going to sing and play to possibly the largest audience I've ever sung to (that's always assuming my voice comes back in time). I hope I'm not going to regret this!

It's a sea-day, so I have to give a workshop this afternoon. Today I'm going to try and teach them about water and reflections, and have them paint up a scene from Alanya, Turkey, where the old walls reach the harbour and the floodlit arches of the old quayside are reflected in the sea. It'll be interesting to see how many people turn up, actually, since it partly coincides with a grand New Year's Day 'brunch', taking place in the ballroom. I think I'll be lucky if I see my usual number.