DAY SIX- Stockholm

We both wake (late, didn't even have the opportunity to greet the Pandas) feeling sluggish and fat, resolve to reign it in a little bit after our excesses to this point. Liz promises to only have fruit Spanish night, Rupert wonders wherever 'Atkins' would be a suitable one day debloating technique; both decide to omit bread, cake & pastries. 

Fairly uneventful day as we arrive in Sweden's Capital; the port is about five miles from the city centre, so once again we hop on one of the complimentary shuttle buses provided by P&O to take us to where the action is. We explore the centre on foot, before catching another bus tour. For two hours it pootled round the city, but I must admit I know little more about Sweden and it's capital than I did when I got on.

Stop to grab a drink, I secure a seat and Liz purchases the coffee from the counter. I am disappointed to report that she returned to me not just with two mugs of coffee but also two very large muffins (one chocolate & one banana) I often feel that 'cause I am the fatty of are relationship blame is frequently left at my feet in regard to bad behaviour and inappropriate influence. Perhaps often it is; in many ways I am completely lacking in will-power and restraint ... but not today. Today Liz's resolve crumbled in a mere few hours and in the face of a muffin with a foam (marshmallow) banana on the top.

Again Rupert's Record Store Radar crackles into life, but on this day of topsy-turvy events it is not Mr. Todd who buys something but Mrs! Taking a liking to the soulful music playing over the shops PA. Only at the till does Rupert spot a Record Store Day Exclusive picture disc of David Bowie's "Starman" but sadly not the elusive Ryan Adams 7" or Flaming Lips 12". He is hopeful that every Baltic stop reveals further gems.

Reigning in excesses is easier said than done, arriving back on the boat after our exploration we are both hungry for just a little snack to keep the wolf from the door for the remaining four and a half hours until tea time. It is with a heavy heart and an even heavier waist to report that the only available snacks at 3pm on a Thursday would be afternoon tea, yes we were restrained to the point we avoided cake (having only had one les than three hours previously) and pastries but both ingested a fair amount of the deadly dough in the form of delicate sandwiches.

Must do better tomorrow as we head to the (as Rupert perceives)  Über-cool Helsinki.

But now a battery charge prior to Spanish night and a visit to the casino, with tonights 25p stakes they must have known we were coming, far to mean to risk the £2 minimal bets of previous nights.

Any attempts to sleep for me are curtailed by the Captains announcements as we depart Stockholm and the entertainment teams 'Sail away sing-a-longs' I fairly sure our old friend Daz (Mr. Robin Redbreast) is the major instigator in this aberrant activity, consequently I bet the Swedes cheer as we depart? Liz sleeps through the horror, but has requested that she is woken as we sail away as it is meant to particularly pretty and she was in the land of nod earlier at 5.30am when we arrived.

Another fine and low-key evening in the Conservatory, a very passable Spanish meal ably assisted by a bottle of Rioja. As Liz frequently points out "What's not to like?" and I'm in complete agreement.

Following we headed down to the casino to take advantage of the reduced 25p stakes (honestly we are so tight when the wind blows in the right direction we whistle), neither of us could be described as seasoned gamblers or casino visitors. My only previous visits could be counted on the fingers of one hand and Liz reports to even less. Anyway never ones to be held back by inexperience, deep pockets or fear of humiliation we stepped up to the roulette wheel with our budget previously set and all other currencies and methods of payment locked away in the safe in our room (just in case we discovered a previously hidden vice, Liz's addictive personality is well documented) I'm not quite sure how Liz got £20 worth of chips to play with whilst I received a mere £10? Yet we played for an hour whilst receiving guidance and tutorship from those who shared the table, only leaving once Liz had secured her initial outlay and I found myself £5 up. Cashing our chips we look forward to returning for a second go in a couple of days time.

DAY FIVE- At Sea

We both agree that the days at sea have been a bit of a revelation, we were concerned that we maybe a bit bored without the promise of getting off or exploring. But the requirement to stop is most valuable, I've consumed two novels and am concerned that I maybe at the mercy of the ships shop if I plough through the next two at such speed. 

Prior to Liz's craft class we went for a coffee and sat with a older couple. We have started to become rather reluctant to get enter conversations with older passengers 'cause of the bile, grumpiness and general complaining that is often spewed out. They've been on numerous cruises prior and everything was better before. They almost imply that it was actually better before they let the riff-raff on board, your sort ...

But this couple were rather refreshing, clearly well to do and appearing as seasoned cruisers, it turned out this was there first cruise also. They listened to our suggestions acutely, instead of dismissing them out of hand as the opinions of a whippersnapper (under sixty!)

The day passes quickly amidst lounging around, reading, catching up on the olympics , having lil' sleeps and indulging in day drinking. In terms of weather not such a good day in comparison with our previous sea day, spend much of the afternoon dodging downpours.

Day two in the quiz provides an improvement in the performance of The Three Musketeers with a score of 19 out of 20, a full house would have occurred if my fellow team mates had trusted me on 1930's American Presidents, but alas it is hard to argue when the other team members of your trio is made up by a married couple. Attempts to convince Chris Egghead to join have to this point been unsuccessful, but I resolve to not gve up his quest for support until returning to English waters. 

Liz has completed her felt necklace and bangle over the period of four craft classes, she is disappointed that they don't offer another activity for the remaining sessions and no doubt this will feature in her comments at the end. Never to be disheartened knowing that she understands the principle of felt bead creation she just resolves to perhaps just make a more elaborate one in maybe green or red, someone's going to be a lucky spud come Christmas.

Against the advice of many of our fellow cruisers tonight we endured a meal in the Marco Pierre White affiliated Ocean Grill. Such a hardship to have to a sumptuous meal served by friendly and entertaining staff, in a small and select dining area and to be able to dine at our own pace. In short it is excellent and we are glad that it is being avoided by the many as it ensures better service and experience for us.

Further evidence that we may never return to the Peninsular restaurant, although the head waiter did hunt Liz out to provide her with tomorrow's menu to allow her to select her choices for the following day. Unimaginative (traditional) English food is often described as the 'Best of British' but this assortment of choice would be more accurately described as 'the worst ...' Clearly it suits the majority of the clientele very well, but us Todd's are more free thinking and experimental in our tastes.

We didn't have the heart to say that although we will return truthfully it doesn't really suit us and we have divided much of our remaining evening dining opportunities between the different nationalities cuisines in the buffet, Sorento and the Ocean Grill. So left a note saying we were going Spanish tomorrow evening and left it with one of the waitering staff O'lay! 

I am pleased to report that Liz appears much better, full of sprite (not the pop) and life now, long may it continue.

Indian buffet

After the earlier Peninsular experience we both feel something more low-key for our evening dining experience, especially with Liz feeling much improved. We have consistently been told that the Indian buffet is very good, the most popular of the international cuisine nights apparently. As renowned coniseurs of Indian food we feel duty-bound to critique the Oriana's best efforts. It's odd, we'd never attend a buffet at home, the very term BUFFET would be enough for us to reject a restaurant completely with it's connotations of food just sitting there for hours on end, marinating in their own bacteria.

Three days of observation has revealed that food it rotated & replaced frequently, so we feel more confident in entering the world of buffet. We received an excellent & varied Indian meal, free from stress, over attentive service and meal-choice scrutiny. 

Peninsular's loss maybe the Conservatory's gain?

DAY FOUR- Copenhagen

The day begins with the traditional telling-off over my breakfast gluttony (after saying good morning to the Pandas of course), I am of the mind that you should try EVERYTHING that is available at least once. I belief that I know will be mirrored by my Father, my Mother-in-law and my Sister-in-law. Consequently I think it is perfectly acceptable to have a gammon steak for breakfast, okay I'm willing to agree it maybe slightly excessive to have it along side all the other breakfast items, but I found the gammon pile as I returned to our table.

My defence was that I was being supportive of Danish produce, in the same way my meals would be bacon heavy & drinks Tuborg and Carlsberg.

I know from then on every item I ingested would be under strict scrutiny by Mrs. T.

So we arrive in Copenhagen; Wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen. 

After feeling that we perhaps didn't make the most of Gothenburg yesterday, partly due to the weather no doubt but equally due to being a bit directionless. On disembarking Oriena we see a city ubictius hop-on /hop-off Red Bus Tour, which would seem a way of viewing a previously unexplored location. Thankfully it did as was required allowing us to hop-on and hop-off at all the essential points. No doubt we missed much, but it gave us a good over view of a place where we are only in port for a brief seven and a half hours. We placed Copenhagen in the memory bank as somewhere to return to for a City break in the future.

Speaking to many of our cruise mates it swiftly became apparent that we had explored further than most, it's sad to believe that wandering along the quayside could be seen as having actually visiting a place.

Many cruisers seem to boast that they have travelled and seen the world on their many trips, but closer scrutiny all to often reveals that they have merely seen many ports?!?

But we could at least say we had seen some of Copenhagen's most famous sites, if admittedly very briefly.

Liz decided to throw the risk of potential allergic reactions whilst in a foriegn counytry where you don't speak the lingo to one side and risk it with an ice cream. Ice cream is always the one thing that tempts Liz is be foolish and risk it, oddly  it is also consistently the one thing she often reacts to (a coincidence perhaps?) 

This particular ice cream parlour was deemed as looking safe; how can she tell, to my eyes all ice cream appears the same and I could see no notices in inform of guarantees of being natural (but I am very poor at linguistics and my Danish is non-existent). Perhaps Liz just had a feeling, an ora of ice cream safety?

She plumped for a 'brown one' and a 'green & brown speckled one', hoping for chocolate and mint choc-chip and receiving chocolate and mint-marzipan. I also went for colours as my guide,  'white & brown speckled one' and 'swirly brown' which turned out to be coconut and Lion. I can report that Lion's taste of peanut butter!

The weather remains unpredictable, we left the boat in blazing sun and whilst on the Red Bus the torrential rain began again, we declined to hop-off opting to stay-on until reaching the nearest stop to the ship. Which allowed us then to hop-off, change, grab lunch and hop-on again. 

Liz has been keen to try our designated evening restaurant for lunch. I've found it a bit stuffy and over attentive; matters are not helped by having waiters scrutinising each morsel that enters Liz's mouth in case of the appearance of rogue artificial sweeteners and the subsequent reaction.

Who am I to curtail the wishes of my beloved, with a heavy-heart and knowing we could do so much better we enter the Peninsular restaurant.

Sat on a table with four of the oldest of cruisers, who spend the whole meal moaning and criticising everything. I observe that the elderly appear to always select the most unappetising items on the menu and really like soup.

 God bless Liz she try's to initiate conversation and introduce discussion, which only provides topics to be spoken over and dismissed. I hoover my burger (the driest, smallest, most unexciting burger imaginable) and prey for a swift exit, Liz with better manners than me makes us wait until everyone has finished dining before fleeing. We vow never to return, at lunchtime at least.

Liz has continued to complain of pain in her face and headache came to head, waking from her afternoon sleep in tears and very obvious pain we venture into the bowels of the ship to visit the medical room. Twenty minutes later and £70 lighter we leave with a diagnosis of sinusitis and an assortment of potions. Almost instantly following taking her first tablet she informs me that she feels much better and will now be much better value. This means that I didn't have to issue the threat of "Cheer up or I'm going to throw you over-board!" ... yet!

DAY THREE- Gothenburg (Sweden)

Awake to find we have reached land for the first time since leaving Southampton,  moored up in Gothenburg (Sweden). Not the most picturesque port I've ever visited. After yesterdays glorious sun today is more overcast and grey, the Captain assures us it will clear (as do Sky News)

Our plan today is to explore Sweden's second city and see where the wind blows us, I visited Gothenburg previously, I remember little but it all appears vaguely familiar. The shuttle bus drops us in the centre of the City, directionless we wander up to the art gallery to find it has yet to open, are we in the mood for culture or does coffee appeal more? Even this short burst of energy fatigues Liz, it has been just over two hours since she got out of bed (and under two since breakfast) perhaps time for a rest and a little snack?

The decision is made for us anyway, the rain begins to fall, not just mild drizzle but full on apocalyptic pouring. We dash into shops, Rupert's RSR (Record Store Radar) is working to full effect and we discover a shop laden with rare European pressings and dubious bootlegs. Showing restraint previously unseen despite flicking through the racks he walks away with nothing, mainly 'cause of concerns about the authenticity of much of the stock.

Exiting the rain is only worsening, the pavements are flooded and all pleasure in exploring has evaporated. Both soaked to the skin there is little pleasure and less hope of ever getting dry again either indoors or out.

My new blue hoodie is both moulting fluff and leaching colours, Liz's Union Jack umbrella is getting some disapproving looks, we make the decision to return to the boat and begin the walk (wade) back to the shuttle bus drop-off point. Perhaps Copenhagen will be more successful???

It appears that most of our boarding compannions have had a similar thought as almost the entire boat (passengers and crew) are waiting for the 40 seater bus to arrive. 

Again we witness some terrible senior citizen behaviour as the battle to board the shuttle begins, shoving those less mobile or able to one side to ensure they guarantee themselves a space. Quite frankly I don't think any of us can get any wetter, but as the puddles grow those in wheelchairs are in danger of drowning. I intervene, which sounds significantly more nobel than in reality it was, I stood in the way, look a bit dozy and played on my big, blue & fluffy state. 

A bus full of sodden Brits, falling into full stereotype moaning about the weather; you'd think being British the one thing we'd be good at dealing with is inclement weather but blame falls very heavily on the Captains shoulders. Clearly his youth and good looks equal his inability to give an accurate weather report?

Following drying-off and defluffing we brave lunch in the Conservatory, a more accurate term would be canteen. It's quite charming to pick up a meal and dine outside, all charm is lost in the rain. The food appears bland & uninspired, our companions miserable and grey (or is it the other way round?)

Packed with the moist & moaning elderly, we beat a swift retreat in search of somewhere (anywhere) better. Catch a bit of the beach volleyball and grab a pint in the suprisingly sparse Lords Tavern, clearly the usual occupiers are in search of authentic British grub?

Liz is wavering, an afternoon sleep is clearly on the cards, but before that perhaps just one more drink? 

A coffee perhaps? 

An liquor coffee maybe?

A little cake?

 Well ... it would be rude not to wouldn't it ... we are on our holiday's after all? (Not for the first time I wonder if we can contact Southampton to arrange a tug to drag me in?)

Mrs. T selects the most boring & bland item in the cabinet, but the waitress in on my side and brings over an assortment of pasteries. They all have to be discarded at 3pm when afternoon tea ends, silly me that's when I though afternoon tea would begin. 

It's just as well she brought over a selection, we both agree that those brown things selected by Liz taste of mud. These jammy ones are much better.

Liz goes to bed, I go in search of entertainment. Entertainment is seriously limited today at 3.30pm on a cruise ship, a whist drive or ??? 

The rain has finally abaited briefly, I find a dry chair and table outside, with the  picturesque vista of the Volvo factory to jot down my thoughts and read his book before Mrs. T raises from her adopted pit to be better value.

"I don't know why I'm so tired?"

The explanations are obvious and numerous; to eventually stop and to be forced to properly stop. The opportunity to rest with no guilt or distraction, to recharge batteries. The fresh sea air obviously suits, let's be honest Scandanavian air must be the purest to be found Worldwide? I fear she'll be in a virtual coma by the end of the fortnight, waking only very briefly for sustenance from cheese and liquor coffee, before hibinating again in her rest pod (cabin).

I'm a little concerned about these people who spend much of the afternoon walking round and round the deck. Initially I thought red Olympic t-shirts very very popular with the over sixties or that the boat was occupied by a large group all wearing the same attire. Closer inspection reveals that there is a select group who spend hours rotating; they're going to have to stop it soon or at least go the other way for a bit, they're making my bladder itch.

Be careful what you wish for Toddy, a runner is now skipping round, at least he's going clockwise which is significantly less irritating.

 

Deal or No deal

Liz has a previously unfulfilled ambition to appear on Deal or No Deal. Who knew? So we wander to one of the ballrooms to see if she can be selected to play the ships own version and touch the hem of Noel's garment. Sadly (or not sadly depending in your viewpoint) Noel Edmonds is unable to make it to the Oriona tonight and his stand in is a flushed faced ginger man-boy from Bolton called Daz. Although he is neither handsome or apparently successful I want to punch him in the face also, I blame this previously unseen aggression on the bow tie.

Sadly she is not selected to play but is appointed a pilgrim entitled to hold a red box, it all looks very authentic. Sadly P&O can't stretch to £250,000, offering £250 of onboard credit instead. Obviously this box went in the first round, the next hour brings the torturously slow opening of twenty further identical red boxes. I was urging Malc (retired police officer from Blackpool) to accept the first offer of £10 and a packet of Cheese & Onion crisps.

Liz held box four containing 50p, she was saved for the second to last round, Malc clearly had a bit of an eye for the younger ladies. She held her own with Daz appearing smiley and confident, dealing with his jibes about being an RE teacher effectively. 

At least she's appeared on Deal or No Deal (of a fashion); we resolve to be more selective in our post-meal entertainment from now on.

It's horse racing tomorrow night ! Horse racing, that would at least explain the smell.

Black tie. Dude up.

Despite looking like a Bond villain I am secretly rather pleased that a bow tie managed to smuggle itself on board. You have to embrace these experiences and the opportunity to dress-up, don't you?

Meet the captain for drinks, he is precousously young, handsome and successful; I instantly want to punch him in the face. But his crew look on in rapped awe and hang-on his every word, so clearly he can't be that bad? 

Improved meal. Liz particularly enjoyed her lobster mash potato.