Day 18

Sunday 23rd November
Sunny

Oh dear. I don't quite know how to tell you this, Diary, but things have not worked out as Rosebud planned. Briefly, the captain chucked him. Which means I'm not steering any more, but also that Rosebud's bed sitting in his cabin staring at the wall for hours on end answering all questions in monosyllables, and therefore cannot be considered a Good Thing.

I went down to see how he was after lunch. He didn't say anything. I told him he deserved better than the kind of cad that dumps people without a second thought, casting them off like an old glove, and pointed out that there were plenty more fish in the sea (to be honest, Diary, I was probably burbling rather; you know how it is when you have to do the whole conversation yourself and can't see what the other person's thinking. A bit like answer phones, really). But I don't think any of it went in. He looked like he was somewhere that words couldn't reach. So I sat for a long time just squeezing his hand in silent sympathy.

Actually, I'm surprised by how badly he's taken it, I didn't realise the captain was anything more than a fling to pas a long voyage. But hopefully this is just the initial shock and he'll be over it soon.