Glaswegians of my generation may recall that people affectionately referred to trams - particularly the older ones - as The Shooglies, a great description of their motion and the way the superstructure moved independently of the bogie. That, O Best Beloved, is what our suite has been like for most of today as the Silver Spirit ploughs its way down the North Sea en route for Greenwich.
I took the photo this morning as we bashed round the deck (one down from our usual route) to work off some of our breakfast. The cargo ship on the port side was one of the only ships we’ve seen all day as the wind rose and the waves grew in height and walking became difficult. It’s easing slightly now, but the walls are still creaking and typing on a phone tests my precarious sense of equilibrium.