There were a lot of things we needed to get used to on a cruise ship; which decks the various restaurants and theatres were on, the best places to sunbathe or find shade and, not least, which was front and back.  One corridor looks pretty much the same as the next whichever deck you’re on or whether it’s on the Port Said or the Starman; and any of them looks the same whether you face the sharp end or the blunt one.

But the biggest revelation was the vacuum flush toilets.  These are like the ones on airplanes that guzzle down your doings with an almighty suck.  There’s notices above them asking you not to put bulky objects down them.  But as a comedian on board asked, ‘So where are you meant to put them?’

Now consider for a moment that you’re filling your face with gratis food 24/7 which a Tour de France rider would find a challenge and you get to understand the ‘size’ of the problem.

More than once I laid beauties that sat menacingly like crocodiles on the porcelain – there is no water sump, you understand.  At best you hoped the suction would cope.  But the aperture was about 2 inches diameter and the stool anything up to 4 inches.  It was reminiscent of the scene where Goldfinger is sucked out of the plane’s window.  This constituted success despite the risk it posed to denting the ship’s propeller.

When it didn’t your options were to pick it up and throw it overboard, to sheepishly inform Reception for them to get some Philippino cleaner to deal with it or to leave it lurking for the next customer to find.  I always opted for No 3.  Eventually you’d see that it was gone.

On more than one occasion I witnessed what I took to be a burial at sea with crew standing around a board holding a shrouded body which they tipped respectfully into the deep.  Hopefully, it sank and no longer posed a threat to other shipping.