Arrived home...
...all in one piece and shiny side up.
Last few pictures you may enjoy.
Here's myself (minus the Hi-Viz vest, you might care to note) on P&Os Pride Of Bilbao about to sail for Portsmouth. Pride Of Bilbao? Pride Of Shite, more like. Not that I'm a snob or anything, but the Foxy Bingo Mini Cruise was aboard for the sailing home, which made for an interesting demographic of passengers on the return sailing. Add into that a very rough crossing across the Bay of Biscay, and Mrs J feeling a bit on the old queasy side, and a cabin that was grubby in spite of the high cost, and a toilet that was temperamental to say the least and all I can say is they need to upgrade the ship.
All Mrs J wanted was a cup of tea and a slice or two of lightly buttered toast at about 9.30pm that night, what with her feeling Uncle Dick and the ship pitching and rolling like Thunder Mountain at Disney World. Could I get her that? Could I hell as like. Come on, P&O, it wasn't a big ask. Was it? Four restaurants and no-one could oblige.
But a stonking breakfast in the Langan's Brasserie restaurant the following morning helped a bit.
Met some nice bikers on the return crossing, including Tanya, a 30-something lawyer on her yellow Ducati returning from a solo tour (go girl!), and a couple of lads in their 20s on Kawasaki sports bikes who were great fun.