20231211 – Here We Are In Europe South of Latitude 43 North – An Unfinished Work In Progress, Manyana

Some of this blog has been rewritten by ChatGPT – artificial intelligence. It’s terrifying how good it is. I just give it my original input and tell it I want a humorous and sarcastic version and Abracadabra it replies in seconds with words way beyond my O’Level English pass level 6 could hope for in my wildest dreams. Complete with commas in the correct place. To distinguish AI editing I have highlighted it in Blue.

Also some of the cartoons have also been created by AI.


Cartagena today, sunny but the breeze takes the edge off the heat – just comfortable.

Our free walks have been canceled so I sign up to the GPSMyCity app and create my own tour. Just select the sites we want to see. Just under 3 miles. It’s a pretty good app with interactive walking directions and details of each site you’ve chosen at the click on the screen.

Just as you would expect in Spain, or anywhere in Europe South of Latitude 43 degrees north, the museums etc are closed as it’s Monday closing day. Forget all the money that’s just cruised into town.

We get to see most of the sites, including castle, amphitheater and Roman columns, although we nearly missed them as we walked past and didn’t notice them. Not really a great deal there. Model Christian story of Christ was impressive. As for the paving, it was like an ice ring, smooth marble which was treacherous when wet – you really couldn’t make this stupid choice of materials up, obviously chosen by the local hospital board in order to drum up trade.

Back on board around 14:00 for a late lazy lunch.

Dinner’s the usual flexi dining, dominated by one woman whose gob ran away with her and never had a rest. It was a wonder she ever managed to eat anything.

Went to see a guitarist after, pretty dire. So far we’ve avoided the main theatre as not much has attracted us.


“Sarcasm is the body’s natural defense against stupidity.”






Malaga today. We’ve got a free walking tour booked. After 15 minutes we abort. Her English is appalling, more stutters and pregnant pauses than listening to Boris spouting a boring hellfire sermon.

Do our own thing with the GPSMyCity app. A very pleasant day, even stop for lunch and a beer. The weather is awesome and it has to be the best port by far.


Our floating Petri dish.




Pat Condell OK Groomer


Day in Gibraltar: Where Even the Cable Car Can’t Escape the British Charm

Our morning adventure involved a guided walking tour, a private affair because apparently, everyone else decided to stay in bed and avoid the potential drowning that might occur in light drizzle. Our guide, a walking encyclopedia of Gibraltar facts, spoke impeccable English, a rarity in the world of travel where sometimes you need Google Translate just to order a coffee.

Then came the pinnacle of our expedition – the cable car to the top of the rock. The restaurant up there, a place that looked like it was decorated by a committee of blindfolded monkeys, welcomed us. The tables seemed to have a history as rich as the rock itself, salvaged from what one could only assume was the debris of a furniture apocalypse. And surprise, surprise – despite being in a British territory, our waiter spoke a language that might have been English but sounded suspiciously like the mating call of a confused penguin. Incredible indeed.

The town itself felt like a British annex, complete with familiar shops. The pièce de résistance? Marks & Spencer, proudly asserting its imperial dominance in a place where you’d least expect it. Six miles of exploration later, Wendy resembled a character from a survival show, a testament to the perils of conquering territories, one tourist attraction at a time.

Back on the ship for afternoon tea, where apparently, the ship’s population believes in starvation as a form of recreation. The café resembled a battlefield of empty plates, as if they were on a mission to prove that humans can, in fact, survive on the fumes of Earl Grey alone.

For dinner, we descended to the main restaurant, where I, surprisingly, decided to embark on a sober meal.

The news headlines, a surreal twist in our journey, revealed that while we were freezing in drizzle, The rest of Spain was busy breaking December heat records. Oh, the irony – our thermometers struggled to reach double digits while the Spanish were probably sizzling paella on their sidewalks.

And so, the day ended, with me sticking to sobriety, Wendy reaching the brink of exhaustion, and Gibraltar standing as a testament to the fact that even in the most unexpected corners of the world, the British charm – or lack thereof – manages to make its presence felt.


$100 trillion spent by 2100 will reduce temperature rise by one sixth of a degree Celsius.




The anti-American dream

Just to remind everyone how powerful the First Amendment is:
First Amendment  Fundamental Freedoms

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.


Cadiz – high expectations. What a dump.

Wendy’s not feeling so good so we have a lazy stroll around guided by GPSMyCity. Wander around the main attractions. Have a beer and then back onboard to a sunny balcony. There’s a severe danger of being legless today.

Wendy passes on dinner so I go down on my own. Table of 6 tonight is dominated by a lady who can best be described as Dame Everidge – never shuts up and you can see her husband is as bored as a security guard on a night shift, with the stories he’s heard so many times before.


Our Zimmer frame hell:


This was published in the new year 10 years ago and still holds good. No doubt the wokes, liberals and snowflakes will be apoplectic if they bother to watch. Yes, the root cause is that barbaric ideology – muslims mistakenly think it’s a religion – of peace and permanent offence – islam.



Ah, the daily symphony of juvenile web design, where 10-year-olds, fresh from their morning tie-my-shoelaces-with-Mommy routine, morph into digital architects. Brace yourselves for another riveting episode of “Password Palooza” and “Captcha Carnage,” where clicking to accept cookies is the closest thing to a thrilling adventure!

In the enchanted kingdom of web development, where logic goes to die, our mini-Mozarts craft password policies that make Fort Knox look like a pop-up shop. Forget having there Mummies tying their shoelaces; these prodigies are too busy knotting users into a labyrinth of alphanumeric chaos.

And let’s not forget the captivating dance of captchas, those delightful puzzles that prove whether you’re a human or an alien impostor. Because clearly, if you can’t distinguish a street sign from a bicycle, you’re not fit for internet society.

But wait, there’s more! Click to accept cookies, the virtual version of handing out sugar treats on Halloween. What’s more heartwarming than a website caring about your online well-being while silently tracking your every move? Sweet, isn’t it?

Behold, the pièce de résistance: codes to mobiles, the modern-day equivalent of the mating call of a 1990’s lesser spotted 9,600 Baud modem trying to connect to the Internet. Nothing says “security” like entrusting your precious login secrets to the pocket-dwelling device that occasionally gets lost in the couch cushions.

In conclusion, dear netizens, prepare yourselves for the whimsical wonderland of web design brought to you by our pint-sized prodigies. Will they tie their own shoelaces one day? Only time will tell. Until then, may your passwords be complex, your captchas merciful, and your cookies crumb-free. Happy surfing in this digital carnival of chaos!


That damn Elf’s been at it again:

Yippee, a day at sea with the usual range of mindless entertainment and merchandising opportunities. Keeping to two of my three retirement commandments (no drinking, no TV) is hard work on these sea days, plus you’re surrounded by the temptation of constant gluttony.

We’ve still got £270 left of our £490 onboard spend so it’s a trip to the onboard shops to get it spent rather than loose it – a tad short sited really as if you could carry it over it may encourage you to do another cruise with P&O. Buy a load of duty-free booze, 6 Toblerones and 2 big Hotel Chocolates. Yet still have £60 left for drinks tonight and tomorrow.

Drama on board as a helicopter is coming to take a sick passenger off. Then apparently the Portuguese no longer seem to have a helicopter so we divert even further for a Coastguard cutter to take the sick geezer off.

Artwork in a Spanish toilet.

I go to a piano concert, Mozart and Schubert, very heavy, Wendy gives it a miss.

Order some smoked salmon from free room service to stave off hunger.

Joy of joys it’s another Black Tie night so the Penguins will be bobbing around in droves while the RestofUs are relegated to the pleb’s restaurants and bars. I really can’t be bothered donning my suit and a tie.

Rock hard potato lyonnaise and raw liver for dinner in the self service restaurant, do these guys know how to cook. The liver was disgusting.


How to insult a progressive


Do Check Out this amazing article on challenging the lunacy of climate change’s net zero https://co2coalition.org/publications/challenging-net-zero-with-science/


Another sea day. With the usual range of unimaginative activities and the usual lack of mental stimulation.

Spend the rest of our onboard spend, keeping enough for drinks tonight.

Yet another one of those Spanish cows.

Try a walk around the deck but the surface is a slippery death trap in places.

The rest of the day is spent in our suite knitting, Wendy that is, reading and playing Canasta on an iPad app. Not to forget the joy of packing, trying to get all that booze in our suitcases and yet still having a box full to carry ashore.

Most nights I end up in the red bar for a pre-dinner drink of Budweiser. Today I noticed that it’s made with Rice – obviously they’ve never heard of the Reinheits Gebot.


Well, whats our final view of this cruise:

Suite is very roomy, comfy with quite a few extra benefits. Thankfully we had a suite as with 5 sea days, weather not up to much, we spent a lot of time in it. Balcony cabins don’t look very big.

Overall I would say good value for money, but certainly not as luxurious as past cruises.

Food is just ok, but minute portions, they really should provide a magnifying glass.

Service is just ok, but clearly a problem with the crews English comprehension.

Weather wasn’t all that good, just two really warm and sunny days.

Ports of call were as expected, just chicken shit Spanish towns, nothing that spectacular. Malaga was about the best. I had great expectations of Cadiz, found it a typical Spanish dump.

Very much an old persons cruise – yes I know we’re old – but I found it depressing and a constant reminder of what’s in store for us if we survive – still probably better than the alternative. Sadly not much stimulation at breakfast or dinner, most conversations were uninspiring. Give me an American cruise any day. My “American Ski Lift Theory” is that if you get on a six pack ski lift with 5 Americans you can guarantee that by the time you get off everyone will have told you:

1 Who they voted for.
2 No matter if they voted for the current President, they think he’s now a dick head.
3 If they didn’t vote for him then it’s a “he’s not my President”.
4 Then they give you the gruesome details of all their ailments and their copious visits to the sawbones.

No reports of Covid on board, we’ve kept a low profile and avoided the crowded main theatre (not that we’ve missed much worthwhile entertainment by all accounts), but on the last day we were advised of Gastro Enteritis being rampant, joy – confirms the Petri dish theory.

Survived the whole cruise without using the lift or having a dessert after dinner. Wonder what opinion the scales will have on Monday?

Thank the FSM (Flying Spaghetti Monster) we downloaded plenty to watch on our iPads of an evening.

Acid test, would I do it again. No, if we ever cruise again it will have to be somewhere warm, with very few sea days and some new places I actually want to see. Any day give me Park City or a Road trip, for the money these 12 days have cost us we could have one hell of a Road trip.

Looking on the bright side I certainly got some great reading in.


California wokes and snowflakes:

A bill, signed in 2021 by Democrat Gov. Gavin Newsom, will force stores that sell childcare items or toys to pay a $500 fine should the store fail to create a gender-neutral toy section for kids 12 years old and under. 

Can you believe it. And to think we’re spending 6 weeks there this winter.


The deranged idea of a World without fossil fuels:


Well, it’s time to dismbark. Process wasn’t too painful, only an hour of hanging around before we were allowed to disembark our floating petri dish and old folks home.

The taxi arrives promptly and takes us back to our car at the hotel. Yes, it’s still there.

Then it’s a 4-hour drive home. Can you believe no holdups?

Just 3 weeks before we escape again. This time to the warmth of California amongst the wokes, snowflakes and libtards. Well at least we hope it’ll be warm.


When is the civilised World going to man up and eliminate these Islamic Houthi rag heads in Yemen who are terrorising the shipping lanes. Hopefully, once they’ve been sorted, Iran, the head of the snake, will be next.


Climate change forecasts, weather forecasts and all forecasts, are unreliable.

Why not go back to reading entrails or re-introduce an Augur, a priest and official in the classical Roman world. His main role was the practice of augury, the interpretation of the will of the gods by studying events he observed within a predetermined sacred space (templum). The templum corresponded to the heavenly space above. The augur’s decisions were based on what he personally saw or heard from within the templum; they included thunder, lightning and any accidental signs such as falling objects, but in particular, birdsigns; whether the birds he saw flew in groups or alone, what noises they made as they flew, the direction of flight, what kind of birds they were, how many there were, or how they fed. This practice was known as “taking the auspices”. As circumstance did not always favour the convenient appearance of wild birds or weather phenomena, domesticated chickens kept for the purpose were sometimes released into the templum, where their behaviour, particularly how they fed, could be studied by the augur.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.