Cruising the Med

As the fog horn sounds, and cries in unfamiliar languages of the orient are heard drifting over the gently increasing breeze, the good ship Salerno pulls out of Civitavecchia to commence her treacherous voyage into the unknown.

In actual fact, a far cry from genteel steam boat cruises of yesteryear, the Rome to Tunis hop turns out to be somewhat of a grotty affair. Having eventually embarked after an incredibly overladen roof rack had rendered the car in front unfit to travel, the team made their way up to explore their new sea-born home for the next 24 hours.

The tour of the ship commenced with the salubrious dining room...then it ended. Apparently the luxuries that one may have become accustomed to during that most classy of affairs known, to those that know these things, as Dover to Calais, have not found their way down to the trans-Mediterranean route quite yet.

Therefore a position was secured around a table, and all energies were focused upon the 3 litres of 3 Euro wine that were to see our travellers safe across the hostile waters. Once this feat had failed comprehensively, and the packets of melted cheese and stale bread had been consumed, thoughts turned to bed and relief from the group of brawling Arabs at the next table.

The distinct lack of beds and seats did provide a minor obstacle to this plan but eventually the idea of sleeping on deck was hit upon and our fatigued adventurers hunkered down next to an inviting looking heap of bin bags and allowed the warm breeze and putrid smell of rotting vegetables to carry them into a dream filled slumber.

There's nothing like a good night's sleep...and that was nothing like a good night's sleep.

The constant screaming of children, set off rather well against the backdrop of the 4 o'clock call to prayer, ensured that all team members were thoroughly unrested when they eventually abandoned the venture and returned to their original positions in the dining room.

Now how, you may ask, do 6 young intellectuals amuse themselves in an entirely amusement free zone. And then you smite your foreheads, damn yourselves for pretty fools and cry in unison, 'oh of course, spoof for a giant bottle of horrific vin faux!' Well fear not, you shall not be chastised for this oversight and indeed this is exactly what happened. The game was played with honour and decorum, and Ian will not be driving for the rest of the day.