It was when Father Vaughan was the parish priest at the church of the Immaculate Conception in Geraldine, New Zealand. On All Saints’ Day his homily at the mass was brief as he had been up all night watching the cricket on television. He had only one thing to say.

‘You can sit there thinking I’m not good enough to be a saint. I am telling you that there is nothing bad that you have done or could do that hasn’t been done by one of the saints. So you have no excuse.’

Or as St Augustine put it more than 1500 years ago,

’There is no saint without a past, no sinner without a future.’

I frequently use the time while waiting for a bus to say my prayers. I do this praying silently.

Lately I’ve taken to trying some of my exercises instead or in addition; leg exercises especially. There’s a particularly good one from my ‘Strength and Balance’ sessions.

Sitting at the bus stop I raise one leg, stick it straight out and point and flex the foot. Then do the same with the other leg. There’s a variant when I turn the foot in circles; first one way then the other. Sometimes this does get a quizzical look. Earlier this week someone watching me commented,

‘You ok mate?’

No one ever said that when I was saying my prayers.

I have often wanted to be upgraded and so, in hope, have worn a tie and ensured a pleasant manner at Check In. I was somewhat surprised to be told recently at British Airways Business Class Check-In in Barcelona that I had been downgraded.

My business class seat was booked and paid for and I was checking in two and a half hours before the flight. The official at the Check-In was apologetic and charming but could do nothing. The flight was over-booked and British Airways had cancelled the flight that was due out an hour later. I had been downgraded. It was ‘the system’.  I could apply for compensation. Even my age and my walking stick couldn’t help. Admittedly I was not wearing a tie but I did maintain a pleasant manner. I was downgraded and that was that. I was allocated a seat in economy in row 13.

I asked if my suitcase could go business class even if I could not and that was possible. At the lounge which British Airways uses for its business class passengers there was hesitation over letting me in but I explained the situation and as I was with a friend who had not been downgraded I was allowed in.

The flight was called and I duly presented my boarding pass. The official took it, looked at me, smiled, tore it up, and gave me a new pass for a seat in row 10; business class.

I had been a good boy and had not behaved badly or complained too vigorously over the downgrade – other than in my head. The staff at Barcelona Airport and on board were helpful and charming. B A systems lived up to its name B….. Awful.

There are so many on board activities on the Seabourn Ovation it can be difficult to make a choice. I began today with a swim for half an hour and then five minutes in the jacuzzi. As the day continued there were a number of possibilities on offer, among them, Team Trivia, the Health Seminar: Secrets to a Flatter Stomach, Shuffleboard, Table Tennis, Advanced Facial Rejuvenation, Afternoon Tea & Melodies, the Casino for slots or tables, a lecture entitled Columbus: Extraordinary Explorer or Sinful Sailor, and Social Bridge. All this and more before Pre-Dinner Dancing with the Quartet at 7.00pm.

I was asked if I would join a group for social bridge and I explained that I wouldn’t because I couldn’t -play bridge that is. My mother took up bridge when she was eighty having heard it was good for keeping the brain active. I was then fifty and asked if she thought I should learn. She said kindly and with a smile, ‘No, I don’t think so. You need three things to play bridge, patience, a memory and intelligence. You have none of them.’ She was quite right, at least as far as bridge was concerned.

I do think that while it is almost always good to try something new and to take risks it is also important to recognise and take into account one’s own limitations. Table tennis and pre dinner dancing are also out.

Life on the ocean waves has been greatly enhanced by John Julius Norwich’s anthology ‘A Taste For Travel.’ His introduction begins:

‘There’s no doubt about it: the easier it becomes to travel, the harder it is to be a traveller. Half a century ago, any young Englishman prepared to venture beyond the shores of Western Europe could claim to the title; patience, resourcefulness, robustness of digestion were the only qualities he needed. A year or two later he would could return, the pride of his family, the envy of his friends: a trail-blazer. Alas, those days are over.’

Alas perhaps, for some. This ‘traveller’, not worthy of the name, is enjoying hugely reading of the adventures and exploits of those of the past in the comfort of my suite in Seabourn’s ‘Ovation’ moored in Syracusa’s harbour. Soon I must struggle to make the decision, ‘In which of the ship’s restaurants will I choose to dine?’

The sky is blue, the waters of the Mediterranean clear, the company enjoyable and I have managed to paint a watercolour or two. At least I share that occupation with some of the travellers of the past.