Panic stations!

Mrs D. is slow to anger, so when she decides to rename the cruise director 'Cruella' you know that things are in serious danger of going tits up!

Two days ago in Samos, she came banging on our cabin door and trust her mobile phone into my face with the words "There's a phone call for you". Now I have a sick grandson who is due at Great Ormond Street Hospital next week, so as our daughter is the only person with an emergency contact number, our immediate reaction is "Shit! What's happened?!?!"

Apparently what has happened is that Cruella has decided she doesn't want us cluttering up her nice tidy little boat, so she has decided to have us thrown off. Quite why is a mystery to us, but we assume that she simply doesn't like being questioned. Anyway, the London office is on the phone offering us a flight home from Samos because they understand that "we are not happy". I explain that I do not understand where this is coming from as apart from the three star cruise for a five star price, we do not have a problem.

Unfortunately, Cruella has rather jumped the gun by telling several of our fellow passengers that we are leaving the boat, so now they think we are a pair of superior bastards who think that this trip is good enough for them but not for us. As a result, they seem to be avoiding us - a reasonable attitude should the circumstances actually reflect the facts, but unfortunately they do not.

On the top deck, there are two 8 seater tables, so being extremely thick-skinned we just took the first two places for lunch. Squirming rather satisfyingly, they remove the table settings and we now have an entire table to ourselves. The view over Kos town while we ate lunch was most satisfying being, as it was, uninterrupted by our fellow guests!

My grandson is not quite 4 years old, but he is more mature than most of this lot...