This moment is beautiful; surreally serene and tranquil. In my cosy cabin, my head’s resting on a wonderfully soft and plush white pillow. It’s 4.45pm and the sun’s shinning right through the porthole, making tiny puzzles of light across the drawer and wall. I hear the waves making soft lapping noises against the bulkhead of the ship, the engines whirring below and my favourite housekeeper busying along the corridor with the vacuum cleaner. I sneeze and my neighbour in the room next door shouts, “Salut!” At the electrician’s workshop nearby, I hear the Italian-Laotian Chief Electrician makes a joke (probably a dirty one) and the rest guffaws in laughter.

Perhaps this moment will be what I’ll miss most when I leave the ship.