Issue 22 - Summer 2016

But as Mr C and my daughter found their sea legs,
mine were nowhere to be seen.
I took a travel pill, to ease the nausea and spent the
rest of the day flat out on a sun-lounger. I hadn’t
realised travel pills work by rendering you virtually
unconscious. (I took note for any future flights I
may want to take with Mr C. Three tablets would
do the trick).
By the end of Day Two, I had acclimatised. I started
to enjoy myself. I could see why my parents, who
have been on more than 12 cruises in as many years,
rave about their experiences.
Cruise ships are basically enormous, floating fivestar
hotels. Everything is designed to be easy for
passengers, particularly those travelling with children,
from tiddlers to teens, there is something for all age
ranges.
By Day Three, I was in the swing of life at sea. We put
our shy (well, she was back then) daughter into the
care of the friendly team at the kids club and Mr C and
I enjoyed some couple time. That’s not a euphemism.
By that, I mean we read our books, drank an ice cold
beer and held a conversation without the five-year-old
tugging one of us away to go swimming.
In the evenings, we went to watch amazing live
shows, dined in a la carte restaurants and drank a
few cocktails.
On Day Five, which was a day in port, I woke up with
a fresh problem. Let’s just say, the thought of leaving
the ship and access to a loo was terrifying.
So, Mr C, Lottie and my folks disembarked to wander
around on dry land for a few hours and I stayed
behind.
As the day progressed, I started to feel worse. To
add to my woes, we were heading home and that
meant enduring the dreaded Bay of Vomit (as I had
renamed the Bay of Biscay).
In the end, I went to see the ship’s doctor, who
gave me an injection to ease my nausea, among
other things.
If I thought the pills were a good sedative, the effects
of the injection was almost instantaneous. My eyelids
came down like shutters and I lost the power of
speech. Mr C had to all but carry me back to our
cabin.
I don’t recall the next few hours. I know my parents
took Lottie to see The Magic of Abba show in the
evening and Mr C watched films in the cabin, as I
snoozed my way through what was probably a
tummy bug.
Newspaper columnist Sam Curtis, 46, lives in
Lincoln, in a house that’s not as clean or tidy as
she’d like with her husband Leigh and their two
children, Lottie, 10, and Louie, 2.
But the trip wasn’t over.
Our final stopover in France was aborted by the
ship’s captain - conditions at sea had made it too
risky to head into the small port of La Rochelle.
We were told by the crew to stay in our cabins.
That was when Mr C lost his mind.
As the waves crashed outside the porthole, he
became convinced terrorists had taken over the
ship and that was the reason for the diversion.
At that point, I wondered if I could get hold of a
syringe of whatever the doctor had given me.
As Lottie slept through her dad’s temporary
insanity, I reassured him this wasn’t the set of a
movie and all would be well.
Then I went back to sleep.
Several hours later, we were back at Southampton.
I can honestly say, I have never been more relieved
to see dry land.
But why recall this story now? (I am clearly still
slightly traumatised…) For this reason, dear
reader. The school holidays are coming.
Some of us may be heading off on what we hope
will be a holiday of a lifetime. We are all very
excited. Chances are, your trip will go off without
incident. However, if you are going on holiday
with your family here is my advice: Keep your
expectations low. Anticipate that something will
go awry. Something you can’t plan for.
If you do this, you won’t be disappointed when a
bout of diarrhoea lays your entire family low for
three of the seven days of your trip; your suitcases
end up in Turkey while you are in Greece; you
encounter a freak weather phenomenon or a
camel eats your passport.
And remember, a break away with little people
isn’t a rest.
It’s an adventure.
You can follow Sam on:
Twitter: @sammanfa
Instagram: sammanfa1
Facebook: SamCurtisWrites
www.mollysguide.co.uk
7