Three hours out from Barcelona and blog entry number one. Welcome aboard! The MSC Melody is your vessel and I am your vassal and scribe as we begin 17 days of sailing from Genoa to Cape Town and many points between. Andalublue takes a shocking photo, so don’t expect too many, but you may be regaled with the occasional vid clip, provided the two of us - 45 years of TV industry experience between us – manage to work out how to download from Milord’s new Panasonic minicam onto Anda’s creaky PowerBook. An hour or so of unsuccessful fiddling last night convinced me to rename it the ImpotencePamphlet. Not to worry. You’ll get what you get and either lump it or log off; we’re very far from the embrace of IT Support.

We got out of the UK in the nick of time, on the proverbial helicopter from the roof of the American embassy, also known as North Terminal, Gatwick. Just 20 hours after we took off the snow closed down the entire airport. Phew! That was my travelling companion Milord’s good judgement combining with great good fortune.

The downside was a full twenty-four in a grimy, town-planner-abused Genoa, backed by the Peaks of Mordor and blasted by three different directions of wind chill. I have a feeling Genoa in late spring is probably a lovely place to be. It certainly sports some pretty gorgeous architecture in a surprising variety of styles, but much of any favourable impression wears off when you’re blinded by sea fret travelling at 60kph. Never mind, this is December after all and in just a few days we’ll be casting our clouts as the North Atlantic becomes mid- and then South.

I can’t write very much about life on board yet as we’ve had just 2 meals, one big sleep, and a minor tragedy with an order for Frangelico; much too early to call. All one can say is that the Balinese waiting crew are very sweet and the coffee at breakfast is very bad. In any case, in forty minutes there will be the real test of the ship’s metal – the first of the daily quizzes! Those who know me best will have just cringed a little. I will attempt to keep Mr Competitive Pedant in check. Promise. Fat chance.

In four hours from now we’ll all pile off in Barcelona. Those on board who’ve never before visited the Catalan capital will be taking in Sagrada Familia, Camp Nou and Parc Güell. Milord will be heading for a 3pm dental appointment and Andalublue will be grabbing a taxi for the nearest Carrefour Superstore to stock up on flip-flops, cheap t-shirts and as many beverages as he can smuggle past the Booze Brigade sentries who promise to confiscate anything you couldn’t buy on board for four times the price. This may shape up into a battle of wills, cunning and ingenuity. No one keeps a Yorkshireman from his cheap sup… no one!

Tomorrow’s entry will be coming to you from somewhere in the Med, south of Ibiza. Moltes gracies!