All at sea

Small sprog is overly excited about the potential of spending 24 hours on the ferry, he's full of noise and can't keep still in the back of the car. I take a sideways look at Big Al, who is concentrating on the road ahead, and wonder if he is actually clenching his teeth.

An hour later we leave Bilbao on the horizon and meet the Bay of Biscay in a fairly angry mood - it not us!

Small Sprog loved it, he ran up and down the corridor to his room (as did I with him because it was quite fun and you couldn't feel the waves if you ran very fast) but his sister was less than happy. She found solace in a cocktail to no avail and left the restaurant early.

As I am having my first conversation with an English speaking person, that I'm not related to, for nearly 2 weeks, Small Sprog turns up behind me and taps me on the shoulder, "Mother" he's taken to calling me that of late, "Tall Girls being sick"

"Oh!"

"I've given her the bin"

"Good thinking"

I leave the table to go and look at her! The general consensus was 'not good' but unfortunately with sea sickness, you just have to endure.

It was a rough night, the (clean) sick bags, conveniently placed by the ferry company at every 100 meters along the corridor, weren't there long. However there were a fair amount of full ones dotted in the 'Ladies' due to no one knowing the correct disposal procedure. I'm still unsure, a week later, what you actually 'do' with a full sick bag on a boat, without littering the sea with it all? And when I say full...

All in all it was a 'Nasty Business' says Big Al; his daughter was worse than mine and the bags kept coming...