it's called happy hour, where everyone works hard, washes and makes everything spick—and—span, except i've lost my team and what i'm meant to be doing. many years ago, we had a young lad come on lord nelson and he had multiple sclerosis and he didn't get out of the car, he was helped out the car by his mother and father, popped in the wheelchair and we pulled him up the gangway. after two weeks on here, he walked off the ship without the sticks, didn't want his chair, and his mother and father couldn't believe it. and that's why we run it. that's why we do what we do. 0n the final day, the beautiful weather gave me the chance to do something that i've been looking forward to but also secretly dreading. climbing the ship's mast.