A postscript to the second day at sea..

I have no idea whether the formal night went ahead as planned, nor the second night of Jools Holland,  to be honest, by 3pm I felt really rough and by half past I was probably asleep.

One sea-sickness tablet later (first time I've ever suffered from this) I went to bed and slept.

The pitching and yawing was spectacular and I was frequently roused by crashing of glassware, slamming of fire doors and the melodious music of cutlery pouring from it's original housing.

Using the two spare pillows, I made sure I didn't fall out of bed by wedging one each side of me.

At one point, when it sounded as though an exceedingly large bowling ball had left its stand above me, the pitch on my bed was so great I was almost rolling over the safety pillow to kiss the ground as well.

Needless to say breakfast was a sparce affair, but the thought of a trip was indeed enough to excite the brain even if the body wanted little but dry toast and a cuppa.