Cruising for a bruising in the stormy North Sea

SOMETIMES I wonder whether the best justification for taking holidays is that they make us appreciate our everday lives so much more.
I’m going to tell you about the cruise I’ve just been on, and you’ll see what I mean.
To me, the word ‘cruise’ has connotations of a smooth, effortless ride, as in the phrase ‘cruise control’. I now know better.
We were aboard the Marco Polo – that’s right, the ship that hit the headlines when a window blew in, killing a passenger, a few weeks ago. Freak wave, they said. We weren’t worried.
She was sailing to Norway on a voyage billed as ‘Land of the Northern Lights’ – the very same lights that were seen all over Britain (though not by us) during the week before we set off. The lights that are said to be giving their best display for a decade.
We set off full of optimism. But stubborn grey clouds hung over us like the prospect of a televised debate between David Cameron, Nick Clegg and Ed Miliband.
Gales, sleet and the odd snowstorm compounded the misery.
There I was at 1.30am in the Arctic port of Tromso, in flimsy evening wear with only a pashmina and a Grand Marnier to keep me warm, among hundreds of passengers who had dashed out on deck to peer into the murk for our single glimpse of faint green haze. If you blinked, you missed it.
There are some great memories – riding through pine woods on a sled drawn by eager, friendly huskies; drinking vodka and blue curacao from glasses made of ice at an igloo hotel, admiring its intricate sculptures, knowing the whole thing will melt away with the spring sunshine; train rides past frozen waterfalls through pristine, snow-covered mountain scenery. No litter, and (how do they do it?) no potholes.
But conditions at sea were so rough that one couple got off at Bergen to find a plane rather than face the Force Ten storm that escorted us back across the North Sea.
A lot of people were missing at mealtimes, and my husband, a keen sailor, developed a comedy walk, mimicking the rest of us landlubbers as we staggered through the lounges and bounced off the walls. I told him it wasn’t funny.
Sleep proved elusive as we were bucketed about.
I’d bought some seasickness pills. The packet advised “Avoid alcohol – may cause drowsiness.”
“That’ll do me,” I thought, and took to downing them two at a time with red wine. At least I wasn’t ill. 

When I got home I found a quote from the writer/comedian Tim Vine that sums it up for me. "I've just been on a once-in-a-lifetime holiday. I'll tell you what, never again."