You can't make this ship up.

So this is where people go to die. This place is less Love Boat and more Cocoon. Except instead of invigorating the elderly, it seems to be dragging the life force from the young. We all can't stop sleeping, to my dismay as I have so far slept through the daily origami class, Spanish lessons with Jorge, Ballroom Dancing Fiesta and Sculpture at Sea. When we do venture out of our cabin fever, we spend so much time in a traffic jam of motorised wheel chairs and zimmer frames that we need to hurry back for a nap.

It's day three at sea and we're all starting to go a bit stir crazy. The weather is cooling dramatically and the sea is so choppy that they closed the pools this afternoon. We're yet to swim at all, and it's pretty unbearable to go outside. This morning we sailed past a glacier, which I guess was kind of cool (no pun intended). A lady next to us didn't seem to think so, and was planning to complain to the cruise director, citing false advertising as she was expecting an iceberg, similar to the one from Titanic. So I guess we're not the only guests hoping for a early way off the boat. We almost let out a cheer when the fire alarm was raised in the kids club yesterday, imagining a quick evacuation. It was, of course, a false alarm, which I guess is a relief, as with this crowd, quick is not really an option. I stood in line for hours yesterday at the sushi buffet as old, trembling hands tried to grab at California rolls with plastic tongs with the dexterity of Edward Scissorhands.

There's plenty to do during the day, you can't get past a geriatric without falling over a trivia game or a teeth whitening seminar. Interested in pearls? Jesus Robles is sharing his knowledge about them in the Wheelhouse Lounge at 2. Need to update your Excel skills? Try the Crown Grill at 1. Or if you're wondering if you're enjoying this holiday on any level, get hypnotised by Tim in the Vista Lounge at 2 (we did, and we're not). Thankfully there is a plethora of movies available either in the theatres, the cabins and even on the treadmills, so you can watch films seamlessly through out the day. Although it was hard to find a spare seat in Tuesday's presentation of The Bucket List. Like I said, where people go to die. Or at least go before they die.

It's the nights that really get you though. We've quickly distinguished ourselves as social outcasts, bunking off the captain's cocktail party (even through we were sent complimentary Carnation corsages) and rebelling against the evening dress codes. This of course keeps us out of all the reputable eateries, and so we eat off plastic plates in the general buffet, where at least we have a minimal contact with anyone. The staff on board are pretty damn horrendous, and I don't mean in the overly smiley, condescending American kind, but in the 'if you ask for a clean knife I'm going to shove it through your eye' kind. I always thought cruise ships paid pretty well and therefore would be full of competent, even perhaps friendly or happy staff. Instead we are greeted with death stares, served random items that rarely bear resemble what was ordered, or simply ignored. Everywhere you go there are signs warning of the spread of Gastro through the ship, and we have our suspicions that it's being spat into the food by the staff.

But we're having a great time of course! The Americans are as old, as fat and as clad in bad applique clothing as we could have hoped for, and their banal elevator chatter keeps us in endless hysterics. We've spotted numerous old men wandering the halls in their complimentary bath robes holding martinis in plastic cups, one of whom remarked to Courtnay and I that he was so pleased to see some teenagers on board. The breakfast buffet has endless smoked salmon and I've developed a serious cookie addiction (which I will hopefully be able to remedy with the hypnosis tricks I learnt today). The boat is so big, about 11 stories high, that we actually get a lot of exercise moving around it, not to mention improving our problem solving skills by finding new and ingenious ways around the zimmer frames. We're sleeping through so many meals that hopefully things won't be too scary once we hit warmer weather in a week or so and get the chance to use one of the six or so pools. And even if we do over indulge at the Trident hamburger grill or the Scoop ice cream bar, you can't help but feel pretty confident about yourself when you're about a quarter of the age and weight of the other passengers, and rarely, if ever, find yourself in sandals with socks. Even my parents are considered young and sprightly on this boat. So I guess it really is like Cocoon after all.