The Mediterranean and the Pool

The pool is back.

For the uninitiated: this ship has, tucked behind the accommodation block on one of the aft decks, a small rectangular steel tank that the crew fill with seawater when the sea is warm enough to make it a pleasure rather than a medical event. It holds perhaps four adults. It is roughly the shape and size of a large skip. It is, without exaggeration, one of the great luxuries of my life.

It was filled this morning and I was in it by 10:15.

Swimming is not really the right word. You can take two strokes and then you are at the other end, so what you actually do is brace against one end and swim on the spot while the ship's motion sends the entire contents of the pool sloshing back and forth over you in a slow rhythm. It is ridiculous. It is fantastic.

Marco appeared at some point with a towel and the expression of a man who has seen many passengers do exactly this and will see many more.

Tiny got in later and demonstrated that if you time your movements to the roll you can generate a wave that empties a noticeable proportion of the pool onto the deck. We did this several times. We were asked, politely, to stop.

Sunburn status: significant, one shoulder only, entirely my own fault.