Our table (141) enjoyed an exclusive meal in The View, where many nice things were said, including how well we'd all get on if we were all cast away on a desert island, and what our appointed tasks would be. There's me, Anne (beauty & fashion lacturer), John (scientist), Elizabeth (teacher - retired), Ruth (doctor of theology) and Bert (motor tradesman - retired) - for three weeks we've shared dinner in the Dining Room and got on like a house on fire. Our conversation has been eclectic and stimulating, and Bert, who has been on several cruises admitted that this was the nicest group of people he's had the pleasure of sharing a table with. Elizabeth said she doesn't mind having to be stuck on a desert island with us as long as she can have her own little island that she can retreat to. Ruth would definitely be the leader amongst us, who would keep things in check and tell the rest of us what to do. Anne would be responsible for maintaining our sense of fashion (and promised to cut our hair), and it looks like my job would be to build the big SOS sign on the beach!

After that, it was a final variety extravaganza in The Ballroom, with comedian Tony Stevens and singer Lorraine Brown, culminating in a mini 'Last Night Of The Proms' with everyone wearing silly Union Jack hats, waving little flags and singing Rule Britannia at the top of their voices. Indoor fireworks completed the scene, with staff marching down the aisles in a grand pyrotechnic display.

Then there came The Preview bar, where the same people that have supported The Starlight Trio night after night gathered together for the very last time. As the bar closed at midnight and the Trio packed their instruments away until their next cruise, there was barely a dry eye in the house. Friendships old and new seemed to come to a critical point where hugs and kisses just didn't seem enough, but they would have to do, because tomorrow morning we disembark, for the first time in over 3 weeks, onto English soil, and back into reality. Business cards were swapped and addresses written on little scraps of paper, with promises to keep in touch and to look after one's self until the next time.

And so my Christmas in The Mediterranean cruise comes grandly to an end.

It's 1:30am, and I should be in bed. The alarm is set for 6am - I have to settle my account at 7am and receive my sales money at 8:40.

I would like to thank everyone who has taken the time to read this blog, and hope that it has been, in some way, informative or entertaining. Thanks to all of you who have contributed to the experience by writing comments and helped, for me at least, to maintain some semblance of reality (I can't believe I just wrote that!).

Ships Log. Star date 7/1/07. 1:30am

To you all; I bid you good night.