A funny thing happened to me on board last week. I use the word ‘funny’ to mean ‘strange’, because it was the sort of occurrence that in your wildest dreams you’d never be able to invent. The upshot was that I suffered a blocked toilet, so experienced readers will immediately feel a pang of sympathy. If you are new to the game, this wretched outcome may be yet to come but, stand on me, come it will. The timing of such events is usually spot-on, just when you’ve smartened up the ship to entertain the club commodore and his lady, or your mother-in-law, or some other dignitary you’d rather not expose to such horrors.
Right now I’m cruising in Sweden and when it happened I was lying bow-to in front of a five-star restaurant. On the mercifully rare occasions that my bog has blocked, my policy,
