Day 8

Thursday 13th November
Sunny

Well, I did it, Diary. Got up before light this morning and tipped the thing out of the window. My immediate sensation is one of relief, coupled with a slight nagging doubt that things can indeed be settled that simply.

Today marks one week since we set off. I had the galley staff knock up a cake to mark the occasion- if you're not carefull the days can start to seem all the same at sea. Even Rosebud managed to stagger along and force a little tea down- let's hope it stays there- though Evans was still suffering too much to put in an appearance. You can imagine how gutted I was, Diary mine.

Another pair of my socks has gone missing. That makes the third. I didn't really think anything of it when the first one went; after all, losing socks is scarcely an uncommon occurrence, but when it comes to three pairs in one week one starts to wonder. No, don't worry, Diary, I'm not about to paraphrase Oscar Wilde, tempting though it is.

On my way to the laundry to see if they could shed any light on the matter, I heard raised voiced coming from the salon. Looking in, I found Parker and Williams standing on chairs, each with a table knife held at the other's throat. It seems a dispute had arisen over the fair division of the last slice of cake. There had been two alternative plans proposed: the first, backed by Parker, was that Parker should have it, and the second, put forward by Williams, was that Williams should have it. I considered resolving the matter by eating the cake myself, but generously decided to simply cut the thing in two.