I'm so tired I can't feel my own face.  

I've done more air miles than Captain Kirk in the last month or so and I am currently on yet another aircraft bound for Fort Lauderdale to join the fabulous Celebrity Sillouette for a nine day transatlantic repositioning cruise to Madeira.

Last week I flew to Namibia and sailed with no port days to Cape Verde so with only two nights on dry land in 20 I am contemplating a name change to Jack Sparrow. Pray for my sanity. 

Surely one of the most reassuring feelings in the world is seeing your luggage making its way up the miniature conveyor into the hold of the plane. I'm even more glad to witness this as i write as this morning I wasn't actually in possession of this bag. In fact I didn't know where it was. 

On leaving St Vincent in Cape Verde on Thursday, we (myself and a gaggle of other guest entertainers) took a short, albeit delayed flight to Praia, another in the group of islands before an epic eight hour wait to fly on to Lisbon and then Manchester giving me only 24 hours in the UK before starting this next trip. However, eight hours turned into over 11 hours and as a result we subsequently missed the connection in Lisbon, ended up flying via Brussels to Manchester only landing at 5pm yesterday and with no luggage. Better still, they couldn't assure us at the time that the baggage would make it back into the UK before my flights today so last night was largely spent trying on old cocktail dresses and spare bikinis in the vain hope I could scrape together enough stuff to suffice for this trip. The baggage handling firm were unsure as to whether our bags had re routed the way we had or were indeed still in Lisbon. As regular readers will attest, my luggage has had the habit of going walkabout somewhat regularly recently and my initial thought is always that it has been stolen by someone and that someone on the continent was parading around the streets in my burnt orange 'Alexander Mc Queen's. As I am yet to meet a Belgian with even the most remote taste in footwear I hoped once they'd smelt my dirty laundry they may have put the bag back on the belt and rifled through someone else's wares instead. 

Needless to say, I was being over dramatic as usual and a phone call from the airport at 10pm last night meant I could relax in the knowledge I wouldn't be squeezing myself into a 10 year old cocktail dress this trip and could instead enjoy what turned out to be only 11 hours in my own home. 

Though beleaguered and bedraggled after a travel day from hell I have to admit I really rather enjoyed the last trip. Although we only saw dry land on the first and last days of our voyage, a combination of the company of old friends and the acquisition of new ones meant I was rarely far from a giggle and the afternoon in Namibia made it worth the trip alone. After the obligatory formalities associated with joining a ship in a way port and reacquainting myself with some excellent chums who worked onboard, joined with some of the other entertainers we headed ashore to 'Dune 7' which is allegedly one of the biggest if not the biggest sand dune in the world and though I had witnessed its majesty during the taxi drive from the airport, trying to climb the thing was a different matter altogether. Ill-informed and entirely under prepared (wearing rubber flip flops and taking NO water to the desert) the foot of the monstrosity looked as inviting to me as it did perilous. After the best part of two days travelling and a night of rest in a local hotel I was ready to let off some steam and determined to make it to the top. Needless to say, all but one of our party failed to reach the summit and the one who did became worryingly more mirage-like as he evaporated away from sight amidst the sand and the sun. When he was no longer visible I was convinced he'd fallen off the top or simply combusted in the heat. On our ascent, We were positively jubilant to find him emerging from the palm trees at the base of the sand dune with his tee shirt tucked into his jeans like a cross between Daniel Craig and a beetroot. We reunited and headed off for the next of our desert adventures. 

Ever since being a child I've always been fascinated with monster trucks, so the opportunity for all six of us to ride in the rear of one through the genuine bonafide desert was way too much of a temptation to turn down. Just climbing up those giant tyres alone filled me with memories of my Dad taking me and my brother as kids to watch the enormous machines crushing cars in their wake like matchboxes, and the endless episodes on TV of Bigfoot, the daddy of all monster trucks racing against his rivals around sandy tracks in the states. I never thought I'd get to have my picture taken with one, let ALONE ride in one and the experience in those circumstances was magical. As the engine roared into life I felt like I was 8 again and though the drive was tame in nature, I was still filled with the same sense of adolescent excitement as if I was racing against Bigfoot myself. Not only were we surrounded by the most dramatic scenery but we were laughing and giggling and enjoying each others company amidst miles and miles of baron sand as far as the eye could see. It was like we were part of a movie set. These days are special when you travel on your own as often as I do and even more so when you know you have the prospect of 7 consecutive days at sea in your imminent future. 

The rest of the trip was great as all the entertainers rubbed along really well, enjoying each others individual shows and indeed performing together on more than one occasion. However, as I attested the travel  home was pretty arduous with all but the final flight being delayed. But we took the journey together, a whole gang of us and seldom have I laughed as much as I did these last couple of days.

I seem to be attracting travel traumas somewhat recently. Much to my dismay I appear to be spending more time sorting out issues and problems in my time at home than actually seeing  my family. 

On return from my last Celebrity Cruises contract in March I had a 12 day period in which to arrange an Indian tourist visa purely for disembarking a ship in Cochin and flying home. This process, according to all reliable information should take 2-3 working days and after a trip to the Manchester processing office on what turned out to be an Indian holiday, I thought it safest to drive to Birmingham and hand the passport in myself as the Manchester centre didn't provide a collection service. In short, after a 6am start to drop the passport off within the acknowledged office hours I waited and waited and waited for word from the embassy until two days before I was due to travel to the ship and still without the visa or indeed the passport. As a result of frequent travel I am permitted to hold two passports as its common place to have to send off for visas or to travel to what are described as "incompatible" countries where if you're brandishing a stamp from one nation you're forbidden to travel to another. Now, I HAVE two passports, but the other one is FULL of stamps which means I cannot travel outside of Europe on it as I discovered much to my dismay when I was almost deported from South Africa last year. On calling the central passport office it became apparent the only way to renew the passport within the final 24 hours of my time before leaving for the cruise was in Glasgow the next day at 10am. So I got up at 5am and drove to Glasgow and back from Bolton to get a premium passport. (In place of the word 'premium' feel free to insert 'we'll charge you the earth cause we know you're in a pickle')

So instead of disembarking the cruise in India as originally scheduled, I departed in Sri Lanka, (where a visa can be obtained on arrival) two days early and though I spent half an hour in a pre historic immigration office in the port trying to explain to an official who barely spoke English that I am indeed NOT married to Tiger Woods, the return journey  via Dubai was pretty much stress free, other than some ill advised Sushi consumed after midnight in the airport. 

As my plane takes off right now and I'm swooning over the Manhattan skyline being so close yet so far (sob sob) I am acutely aware of how many places I have been to in the last three weeks alone. Since embarking on my Indian Ocean adventure on the 27th March I have touched down in Munich, Singapore, Penang Malaysia, Sri Lanka, Dubai, Frankfurt, Windhoek Namibia, Walvis Bay Namibia, St Vincent Cape Verde, Praia Cape Verde, Lisbon, Brussels, New York and eventually later Fort lauderdale. 14 airports in 23 days is some going! And though nine days at sea in a row now seems like an awful lot of nothingness, I am really ready for a bit of stress free, quality 'me time' (and a quick trip to the Sawgrass Mall maybe if I land in time tonight) There's nowhere better than a solstice class Celebrity ship in my opinion, if you need some R&R in a modern luxurious environment. I can't wait to hit the spa and the gym and the stir fry bar. A bit of detoxing and a lot of sleep is exactly what the doctor ordered. I'm a very lucky girl to be paid to do this, I'm well aware. 

My next adventure takes me to the Norwegian Fjords on the beautiful Celebrity Eclipse and on this rare occasion Steve will be able to travel with me so whilst being apart for another nine days now is very tough so soon after my last contract, knowing we'll have the best part of a week together in May makes it easier to swallow. Well, that and the fact I can go shopping in America tonight ;-) 

One woman, Two suitcases and a ticket to Barbados....

...... i waited on the quayside in St Maarten for my transfer to the airport en route to the Celebrity Eclipse.  Experience taught me though I was only taking an island hopper flight via Antigua, I was well aware that whenever this particular Caribbean airline were involved the journey was less than likely to be trouble free. 

In the taxi, I made the acquaintance of John Clithero and his companion Mary. John is a guest speaker on sport and music and a thoroughly lovely bloke as is his companion Mary. I had assured them that despite our seemingly late departure from the ship, we would not only make our flight in good time but that the support of the travel company employed by the cruise line in the UK would ensure us safe passage to wherever we needed to be regardless of any delays. As a frequent traveller I have long since stopped worrying about the tribulations associated with missed connections and unexpected layovers and instead focused on my new challenge ahead... The impending arrival of Lent. 

Most years I try to give up something  and having a skipped a year last year I was determined to further challenge myself this time by giving up three things very dear to my heart... Wine, bread and........Diet Coke! Argh. Wine would be a challenge. I LOVE a good glass of wine and especially with the sumptuous collection of vino available in "Cellar Masters" onboard Celebrity  cruise lines its particularly difficult to resist. Bread is pretty much all that's available to me on a travel day especially through European airports where panini and pizza slices tend to be the staple offering. So giving it up would mean the need to plan ahead for these eventualities and to hold my nose when walking past the cheesy oozing slices of Neapolitan heaven calling me to indulge... I'm telling you if I had no sense of smell I'd be a size zero. 

But Diet Coke? That's the real killer for me.I don't and have never drunk tea or coffee and have always consumed admittedly way too much Diet Coke and now amongst protestations of scientific jargon from my family members extolling the dangers of the stuff I have decided to cut down and for Lent, cut it out completely. 

Simultaneously I have decided to try to stick to the 5:2 diet for a month. Five days of regular healthy eating in a Seven day period and Two days of fasting. Fasting sounds extreme, its just a reduction to 500 calories in a 24 hour period and as I'm not really a breakfast food fan, a 24 hour period consuming 500 calories from 2.30pm-2.30pm seems to suit me the best. I'm on the second of two fasting days this week so far, though I am inevitably hungry as it nears the end of the period, I'm already feeling the benefits. This diet is supposed to be particularly good in aiding digestion and, without going into too much delicate detail "re-setting your system". It also boasts weight loss, energy boosting properties and insulin regulating benefits and so I'm giving it a go, figuring travel days are the ideal day to do this. A perfect way to avoid the pizza altogether! 

Back to the airport, picture me  having my final "butty" (sandwich to my American friends) before weaning myself off the bread and starting day one of the fast. Already my flight is delayed and there is little to no information available as to the whereabouts of the plane. 

After a couple of hours and several fruitless attempts to ascertain the airlines plan, I hear my name being called over the tannoy and as quickly as you can say "yeah mon" I'm being thrust through the doors of the departure lounge onto the Tarmac and being told to "get on that plane" 

"What about my luggage?" I asked the supervisor "will it make the flight" 

"Hopefully" she answered with about as much conviction as an insomniac at a Zumba class. 

On the plane that I was reliably informed was headed to Antigua, I was seated next to a young lady named Shantice who it seemed was having "the worst day ever". Ordinarily I'd strike up a conversation with her as she seemed clearly distressed at these somewhat topsy turvy travel plans but to be quite honest I couldn't really understand what she was saying. Amid an interaction with the guy opposite I discovered she too had been shoved on the flight at a moments notice and that her trip home to Barbados for the weekend had something to do with a suitcase full of frozen fish. I just closed my eyes and tried to remain calm.

On the tarmac in Antigua, Shantice and I were unsurprisingly informed that we had missed our connection to Barbados and that we would be accommodated in Antigua for the evening before leaving for Barbados first thing in the morning. But as we entered the arrivals area in the airport "passengers to Barbados" were given a rather odd looking blank boarding pass and told to clear security again. Great, I thought.  Maybe the Barbados flight has been delayed also. However after stripping off my outer layer for about the third time already that day and fruitlessly searching for the information on the illusive Barbados flight we were told in no uncertain and less than polite terms to "get on that plane" for the second time in as many hours. Only this flight wasn't headed to Barbados but to Dominica. Shocked, Shantice immediately displayed her disdain in a more than eloquent fashion and this time I understood every word of what she was stating.

"I'm not going to Dominica. I don't want to go to Dominica. Why would you be sending us to Dominica? I'm not getting on a plane to Dominica"

Shantice was not going to Dominica. 

"Why can't you accommodate us here in Antigua?" I asked. "As your colleague offered on the tarmac?" 

"Because of the cricket" Mrs shirty knickers explained. "There are no available hotel rooms because of the cricket" 

At which point Shantice's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Antigua is 108 square miles!" her voice now raised and clearer than ever. Impressive I thought, and waited for her to continue 

"You can't tell me there are NO hotel rooms on this entire island" 

"That is exactly what I'm telling you" Mrs aggressive pants added. "And you cannot stay in the airport overnight so you either make your own arrangements in Antigua or you get on that plane. 

Lucky Shantice had friends in Antigua and paraded out of the departure area retreating back to her inaudible rants about suitcases of frozen fish. 

I don't mind telling you at this point, despite my earlier proclamations I was worried and a little upset. As i watched my comrade in arms leaving the airport I felt pretty alone and anxious. I too had no intention of going to Dominica but couldn't really see any alternative. Moments later, Mrs Cranky trousers' work colleague, Mr Patronising face informed me I would no longer be staying in Dominica but instead I would be disembarking there, waiting another hour and then flying on to St Vincent where I would be accommodated over night. After an unpleasant exchange involving  a selection of remarks such as "Are you listening to me?" "Why would I send you somewhere with no accomodation" "yes I KNOW you just came from St Maarten and so did this flight" etc etc and my retorts encompassing "I'm a woman travelling on my own", "you have a duty of care to me" and "don't you roll your eyes at me", in a flood of tears I reluctantly got on the plane to Dominica and unashamedly sobbed most of the way there. I had no knowledge of where my baggage was, no confirmation of where I was spending the night or how I would get to Barbados but most worryingly there was no paper trail anywhere and no one in the UK knew my current whereabouts as no official boarding passes for any of the three flights I took that night were issued to me and my phone wasn't working. 

After an hour in Dominica I boarded my final flight to St Vincent. Tired, emotional and very sweaty I was pretty sure this day could not get any worse. 

Needless to say, when my 'taxi' arrived to take me to my 'hotel' I was convinced I would meet my demise in St Vincent. 

What appeared to be a repurposed bread van with soaking wet seats and an engine gruffer than Louis Armstrong careered at unreasonable speeds up into the hillsides of the island and I held on for dear life as we traversed a road with more lumps and bumps than Oprah  without spandex.I was more than well aware that not only did no one know where I was but that I didn't either. 

Tired and teary I headed to my bed for the night in a somewhat dilapidated guest house down a dark alley for three hours rest before heading back to the airport for my eventual journey to my destination. 

The following morning I awaited my 6am flight to Grenada and then Barbados where I was more than prepared to have to wait till the airline located the whereabouts of my luggage. Sure enough, there she was at the lost luggage desk, Shantice, hollering at the poor baggage attendant about her suitcase of frozen fish which now, I would assume smelt worse than Gandi's sandals. If I was her, I'd have scarpered and left the smelly case as a thank you gift to the less than competent airline that had "ruined her weekend" . Instead she insisted on seeing the management to determine who was going to "compensate me for my frozen fish"

She left, still protesting in her wake "I can't eat the fish" and "you've ruined my fish" and "who's going to pay for my fish???" 

Six hours, several phone calls and two inbound flights from St Maarten via Antigua later, not only was there still no sign of the bags but no body could tell me where they were. The more I thought about it, the more I remembered what I'd packed in those cases and the more stupid I felt. On the island hopper flights you are only permitted to take one small piece of luggage and not the usual carry on trolley bag. All my best shoes, jewellery, stage wear, EVERYTHING I owned that was decent was in those bags not to mention 150 CD's I'd packed to sell after my shows and a necklace my parents had bought me for my graduation. I called Steve, devastated and completely convinced they'd been stolen. 

I joined the ship in Barbados as scheduled after three hours sleep, four flights, six islands in 12 hours and with only the clothes I was stood up in. 

The staff onboard the Celebrity ship are amazing and immediately took up the case, pardon the pun, contacting all the port agents shore side in all the places my bags could have been, sending them to the airports to check. They also gave me an emergency pack of toiletries,some stuff to sleep in and some clean underwear and I retired to my cabin to await the fate. 

The next day, the luggage was finally located in Barbados and flown on to st. Lucia where the ship was now docked with an hour to spare before sail time. I've never been so happy to see a box of contact lenses after spending 24 hours looking like a greasy ugly Betty and more than relieved to be performing my show in my stage wear rather than an 'I love st. Lucia' t'shirt. 

Amazingly enough, I write this sat at a table in St Maarten on the beach. That's right, after all that travelling and stress, the ship has brought me right back to where I started the flippin journey four nights ago and yesterday in Antigua I was in port with the ship I had left in St Maarten the first time to travel to this one. My carbon footprint I swear is yeti-sized. 

Tomorrow is St Thomas before two days at sea and disembarking the fabulous Celebrity Eclipse in FortLauderdale before flying to Costa Rica (again) to do the three hour taxi drive (again, i wonder if its victor who picks me up?) and to join the Celebrity Equinox (again) .

I love my job, and admittedly I learn something new every day (namely never to travel with a suitcase of frozen fish). 

As you can see its not always glamorous and without the support of my husband, my family, my amazing agents and the ships crew, I'd probably still be blubbing in Barbados somewhere. 

LAST POST OF THE TRIP.... PROMISE!!!

Normally I wouldn't consider writing two blogs in the space of a week for fear you'd all get bored of it and stop reading them. But as I perch on the bottom step of the entrance to the Internet cafe in St Kitts like a stylish street urchin, poised waiting for it to open, I have time to reflect on the last 22 days of my travels. 

I did my final show last night and when I started penning my tales of the high seas I vowed to myself I wouldn't talk about the shows on my blog

which I won't, but I do want to draw upon how extremely lucky I feel to have been able to entertain four separate sets of audiences in 22 days, work for a cruise line I deem to be one of the best in the world (its frequently voted so) and to have started an impressive 'base tan' upon which I can pile bottles and bottles of St Tropez before my bridesmaid dress trying-on session next week. As we are all aware, brown is the new skinny. 

My fabulous sister in law to be has arranged for us to go try on some 'fancy frocks' next week and whilst I am V Excited at the prospect of a girlie lunch with her, both of our mums and the rest of the bridesbirds, I can't help wishing I'd had another couple of months to fight the flab before the eventuality. I've been to the gym as often as I could manage this last contract and whilst I LOATHE every second of sweating in a public place I realise that at my age exercise is not only the most successful way to try and pinch an inch but undoubtedly the best way to assist in coping with the arduous amount of travelling that comes with my charmed life. The travelling in my opinion is the bit we get paid for. I took 88 flights last year in and out of the UK and over the last three years alone have taken over 250 flights in and out of Manchester airport so whilst I am we'll aware I will never die of overwork, there is a distinct possibility I ill die from deep vein thrombosis.You take the rough with the smooth though right? 

Tomorrow I fly Barbados to Miami (where I have to pick up and re check my bags as its the first stop of the trip in the US) Miami to Heathrow and Heathrow to Manchester. This is why it takes so many flights to get to and from the ships... Cause we very rarely fly direct. Ill leave the ship tomorrow around noon and get home on Thursday around 3pm. I'm going to treat myself to... You guessed it A TAXI!!! Home from Manchester as most of my relatives will be at work at that time and steve is in Thailand. 

I have a regular taxi firm I use in Bolton all the time, primarily because they will come out for me at 4am in the morning to do an airport run and have never let me down yet, but honestly because Mo and Sal, the alacritous brothers that own the firm "Timewise taxis" are comedy geniuses. You can't learn timing like theirs. They never cease to make me laugh. I think I'll need that after my journey. 

Currently, I am drinking a strawberry daiquiri waiting to meet with the other entertainer and his pals at a bar in St Kitts. The port area is large and built up here with every store selling almost identical merchandise. The most disconcerting experience in st kitts is the giant Rasta guys who parade  tiny monkeys in nappies around the terminal area in a bid for you to pay to have your picture taken with what is pretty much an incontinent rat in a cuter outfit. 

I mean no disrespect to all you furball lovers out there, but those of you who know me will concur that I am not indeed an animal enthusiast in the least, I mean them no harm essentially but prefer them between two slices of bread. Controversial I know but I think this stems from the time my brother, maybe only 6 or 7 at the time was bitten by a neighbours dog.  It's not so much the physical scars he may have acquired as a result of this unsolicited attack that has perturbed me but more what occurred directly as a result of it. My mother in a fit of uncharacteristic rage, frog marched my bawling sibling down the street to confront said neighbour about the frenzied attack (insert "little nip that didn't really break the skin" here) and proceeded to yank his pants down in the STREET to show the canine owner the ever reddening results of her pets plight much to my screaming brothers dismay. Seeing him "revealed " in that way left a long lasting impression on me that animals do indeed inadvertently mean naked public screaming.   That's just how it is.

So now after one daiquiri and no breakfast I have been joined by Fred Klett (amazing comedian) and Jenny Baker (amazing documentation officer) and Doug McMillan (world class guitar hero) and am making the most of my final day of sunshine before I have to hide my tan  beneath 14 layers of clothes. 

And so now after 23 days away, I am thoroughly sick of putting make up and a dress on EVERY NIGHT and though I've loved every minute of performing and being part of the team on two very different but very lovely Celebrity ships, I have an appointment on Thursday night with a 'China Rooms' take away, 40 odd sky plus episodes of Emmerdale and Steves onesie. 

Bliss.

In San Diego I bought a Union Jack hold-all as my current one fell apart during my travels, but mainly cause I loved the irony of buying a British bag in the states. A week or so later I bought a Union Jack bikini in Belize. For the same reasons essentially. However, they serve the opposite purpose. The bikini fits where it touches, clearly designed for a much less buxom individual and I can only wear it when lying completely horizontal for fear of poking out the eye of a passer by. The bag however is huge and covers a multitude of sins. I am now forced to wear them both at the same time so the bag can cover what the bikini doesn't and I am in danger of looking like a BNP activist on her way to weight watchers.  It seemed like a good idea at the time. 

I'm writing this on the first sea day of the final cruise of this 23 day stint away. Because I have done the back end of one cruise and the front end of another on both ships, I have essentially seen 4 lots of audiences in the time I've been away and today as I sit writing this on a sun lounger on deck during the first of two consecutive sea days I possess that ever elusive gift of anonymity as I have yet to perform for this set of passengers and currently they just think I am some sad 30 something on holiday on her own. I love people watching and will often choose the perch that allows me the best view of the specimens around me.I love to create back stories for them and imagine what they're talking about to each other. Occasionally you do catch glimpses of what they're saying, then I feel guilty for earwigging. It's breezy today but lovely and warm and the sun deck is bursting with colour and life. The pool looks like American Soup, filled with bodies bobbing around, meeting new people, sharing their travelling stories and cruise tales of yore. Today would be a perfect day for me to wear aforementioned bikini as nobody knows me and therefore probably wouldn't judge me. However as we all know, brown is the new skinny so I'm working currently on this optical illusion and might try it again in a few days. 

My journey to join this gorgeous vessel in Puerto Limon Costa Rica was as per usual an eventful one. After spending three nights in Miami between the two cruises, having meetings with cruise lines and agents accompanied by my own representation from the UK, Alan Frazer who had flown in especially for that purpose, I headed to the airport at 3.30am on the 26th of January, earlier than even the hotel shuttle buses were prepared to wake. So again, I'm in ANOTHER taxi off to Miami airport to fly to Colon Panama to join the ship. It's a really big airport with many drop off points and my driver graciously asks which airline I am flying with so he can deliver me as close as possible to my relevant check in area. I looked at my paperwork to discover I was flying with Avianca, an airline I was not at all familiar with. I checked the details again and told him the abbreviations of the two airports I would be visiting enroute to my final destination onboard. 'Ah, you're off to San Salvador and San Jose... I'm from San Jose! " my driver chirped excitedly. 

"You're from Panama?" I added nonchalantly. 

"No no, San Jose is in Costa Rica. You're going to El Salvador and then Costa Rica" 

To be completely honest I was so tired from my epic few days in Florida and my ungodly alarm call that I didn't really react to the news that this morning I had packed up my belongings and headed wearily for the hotel reception to check out under the complete assumption I was headed to Panama.  Now not only did I have the country of destination completely wrong but I was popping to another Latin American destination enroute just for good measure. It wasn't until I had slept the majority of the first flight away and I was trying to ask for a toilet in the airport in El Salvador that it struck me that I Could be heading in completely the wrong direction. By nature I am a worrier and a few years ago I'd have gone into  complete moronic breakdown in the terminal at the prospect of being stranded in Costa Rica. Instead I steadied myself with the knowledge that I had probably just read the itinerary wrong online, that I have a credit card for emergencies and that to date I have never been stranded anywhere without assistance from someone and that I should probably just board the plane to San Jose. (After I'd discovered that "Lavados" does not at all mean toilet in El Salvador and I had enacted a little "bursting for a wee" dance for the bemused lady in the perfume shop) 

Me and my international bladder issues.

I arrived tired but painlessly in Costa Rica, and was veritably ecstatic to see my battered up purple suitcase (hereafter to be referred to as Murna...( I don't know I just think it suits her) bobbing along the carousel having made the one hour connection in San Salvador between flights. After wrestling with the handle for five minutes (Murna is a stubborn ol mule) we headed through immigration to search for the little white board with my name on and therefore my... You guessed it.. Taxi to the ship. A warm-eyed gentleman smiled at me beneath his curly mop of hair as he beckoned me to hand him control of Murna as we headed to find the car. 

"hello... My name is Victor" he said. Honestly, you can't make this stuff up. For those of you who have rad my previous account, you'll know victor was the monicker of my previous aide through Guatemala. Well, at least I'm in for some fun I thought. 

I asked him "How long is the transfer to the port Victor?" 

"Three hours maam" he replied. 

"You're joking though right?" I giggled

"No no maam three hours. We are on the pacific coast here. The ship is on the Atlantic coast." 

My heart sank. I'd had my mind set on an afternoon in bed after a leisurely breakfast onboard and maybe a spot of sunbathing at sail away. I hurriedly asked Victor to excuse me as I ran to the nearest small store in the arrivals hall to stock up for my epic voyage, surprised to discover the shop didn't sell bottled water. I bought a few other drinks and ran expediently back to the waiting mini bus and a smiling victor. I offered him a bottle of my pop and he smiled gratefully back at me from the front seat of this vehicle that coughed and spluttered so demonstrably I doubted he'd make it out of the car park let alone coast to coast. 

Needless to say the journey wasn't the most comfortable. The suspension on the van tested to its limits by the winding and undulating roads of the  countryside, both beautiful and painful in equal measure. 

The trip was made somewhat more palatable by the company of 'Costas' the Greek staff engineer who was heading to join the ship with me. He was a thoroughly nice bloke and we whiled the hours away chatting and grimacing together at the effect the potholes were having on our bottoms! 

Se tried several gas stations and cafes  enroute to buy a bottle of water but again no water only fizzy sodas. Odd really .

I reached the ship in one piece andthough fatigued thoroughly jubilant to see the beautiful Celebrity Equinox waiting for me there in Puerto Limon. I thanked Victor mark II and dragged Murna aboard. I was assigned the same cabin I had resided in before Christmas on a previous trip here so I already knew my lovely stateroom attendants, Joanna from the phillipines and Vikas from Goa. Joanna is awesome. She always manages to get me extra goodies, slippers and pears and the light waffle dressing gowns she knows I like. I never have to ask her, she just knows. 

So I settled in for what proved to be a lovely and successful cruise. I met some other fabulous and talented entertainers who invited me to dine and socialise with them which is always good when you're travelling on your own.

As I write this I am well aware from my sky news obsession that the weather in the uk at the moment has been less than fortuitous recently and my heart goes out to the residents of the Somerset levels as once again they are flooded. It makes me all the more conscious of the fact I'm being paid to sit in the sunshine today and furthermore aware how in danger I am at appearing to gloat about my ever increasing suntan. Please don't misconstrue me, I never have and never will for one moment take for granted a single iota of the fortune bestowed upon me as a result of my career path. But after a brief conversation with my husband on FaceTime earlier, who is currently in Thailand attempting to qualify for the Asian tour (follow his progress as of Wednesday 5th Feb on www.asaintour.com) and a lovely couple of text messages from my best friends from home, indeed from school, Julie and Tammy, I am acutely aware how on my own I feel today. To an extent it's good not to be recognised just yet by the passengers. It means I haven't had to bother with a full face of makeup yet or the understandable regularly occurring questions you get once they know who you are. But today I feel more alert to the fact that I haven't seen steve or my parents for over two weeks now and though seeing my agent in Miami was a nice taster of home, I'm a 12 hour time difference from Steve now and at sea the Internet is both slow and expensive. Thank god for it.. But inevitably there's a delay. 

Today however I started to cement my plans for my time off at home. The one benefit of steve not being there when I get back is undoubtedly the seldom opportunity I'm going to get to zip about and catch up with friends scattered all over the country. I'm beyond excited for the night out in Accrington we have planned for  my return, with my oldest friends I don't see as often as I'd like and the even rarer chance we're going to get to have a drink together. Children, family lives, holidays, schedules, occupations all stand in the way of us regularly meeting but when we do its like we're 17 again trying to con our way into nightclubs we're too young to be in and laughing heartily at the crazy antics we'd get up to in our younger carefree days. I cannot wait. 

And finally... I have moved cabins. And though I'll miss Vikas and his constant need to stroke my arms, I was more than delighted to be introduced to my new stateroom attendant yesterday. He knocked on my door to introduce himself to me. "Hi my names jayne nice to meet you" I said 

"Hi jayne my names Princey. But you can call me Prince" 

Awesome. 

When I left school at 16, completed college at 18 or even graduated from university at 21, i never could have anticipated what the 'commute to work' would entail for me in the years to come. 

Today,  I'm taking a taxi to work.

 In Guatemala. 

After flying manchester-JFK-Miami-Guatemala City yesterday, I'm now enroute from the capital city to Puerto Quetzal on the coast. 

Today I join the Celebrity Century for nine days, before flying to Miami for 3 nights and eventually on to Panama to pick up the celebrity Equinox to Barbados. But today is all about Guatemala.

I discover my drivers name is Victor. I have also ascertained that he speaks no English.  And being completely bereft of Espanol myself I'm acutely aware that I am somewhat at the mercy of my septuagenarian escort... In other words, I have no idea whatsoever where I am or where I'm going. 

I take solace in the fact that this is indeed a taxi provided by the port authority so there is some paper trail somewhere that leads back to the ship, even if I don't. 

My hotel is on what seems to be the outskirts of the metropolis and the start of our journey reminds me very much of the back streets of Barbados, wooden shacks interspersed with big name fast food chains. No sooner do we take the first corner before what looks like an early 1980's mobile phone starts to shout and erupt at us from the space between the two front seats. It turns out to be a walkie talkie... Or long range radio device which startles me, not so much because of its size or volume but more because Victors 'code name' from base appears to be 'Blahbio blob blob'.

Now as I've said, my Spanish is virtually non existent but even I am unsure as to whether calling someone 'Blahbio Blob Blob' is a term of endearment. Victor seems sweet enough to me, certainly smiley and courteous and certainly not overweight.  I wouldn't really have seen him as a 'Blahbio Blob Blob' ...more of a 'smileo wrinkle chops' maybe. Just a suggestion. 

As we head out of town the myriad of houses and restaurants give way to miles and miles of hilly agricultural land at the foot of some incredibly spectacular mountain regions. It's apparent we're traversing the base of these foothills as the gradients constantly change but Victor proves to be the most conscientious taxi driver ever, barely ever reaching 80 kilometres an hour, braking constantly and ever more convincing me that the 'Uno hora' estimated journey time may have been a little optimistic on his part. I was relaxed though, and enjoying my albeit brief observations of a country I'd only ever seen from the inside of the port area on a previous trip. 

I was starting to relax, and take an odd photo when Victor uncharacteristically swerved between both lanes, his head 'owl like' facing completely the wrong direction as he pointed and shouted "Activo Activo" .

At first I thought he was cajoling me into a more animated state in the back seat and I contemplated a few stomach crunches to please him or maybe even a quick bout of the 'Macarena' though I admit to never actually knowing any other lyrics but the title. Then I realised to my surprise and his delight that the mountain I was previously so serenely admiring was actually a volcano and its masculine plumes of smoke skywards had propelled victor not only into this most animated state but also almost into the central reservation. Nevertheless we survived....car and victors grin intact and more alert now I returned to my volcano gazing.

 As we slowed to approach the next gas station I used my most pigeon of Spanish to ask victor if there was a bathroom I could use inside. Thankfully 'lavados' though a complete guess, does actually mean toilet apparently. I was relieved. I feared a tasteless game of charades was my other alternative as I imagined squatting and hissing on the forecourt. 

I breezed in through the door only to be greeted by a rather short and incredibly menacing looking  security guard brandishing a rather odd looking but at the same time highly intimidating automatic weapon at least two foot long. My first thought was, 'that's a big gun on such a little dude,' rapidly followed by 'he's literally guarding those Cheetos with his life' 

I hastily peed and left, having been reminded that I wasn't in Bolton anymore toto and that wandering around anywhere in an unfamiliar country on your own is ill advised. 

Within a matter of minutes we were back on the road and still a little unsettled from my coming face to face with the Guatemalan version of Rambo I was beyond shocked to discover that even the shepherds in these parts appeared to rely on guns to protect their flock. As we whizzed past the fields, they stood alert and grimacing, staring over the fences on the road wielding their arms. Not the most welcoming of sights to a tourist, but I was just that, a tourist and felt glad I was headed to a ship and familiar faces soon. 

I was glad to reach the Century and after a rather long wait in the port area as the agent processed my embarkation I looked forward to catching up with my good friend John Grantham the cruise director and several other entertainer pals who happened to be working on the same ship that week. It's the smallest ship in the fleet at 1800 guests but a very friendly and atmospheric vessel. The entertainment and activities were well attended and supported all week and I felt really privileged to be sharing the stage with some of these other incredibly talented individuals. 

Even after ten years since my first cruising experience and only 3 or 4 years regularly working for international cruise brands such as Celebrity, I still

 never tire of the experience of performing my show with an awesome orchestra in a lovely theatre such as this. I'm nobody... especially  to an international audience who have absolutely no initial affinity with this mouthy British songstress. But they were incredibly warm and embracing and I felt veritably giddy at the opportunity to do my thang for these fabulous participants. During my time onboard and 3 (repeated) shows  in total I think the highlight for me had to be the gentleman who joined in so avidly during one of my audience participation numbers. 

During this part of the show I head out into the auditorium and entice various male members  of the audience to sing along to the Etta James hit "I Just Wanna Make Love to You" I've had various rambunctious responses to this ditty in the past, including one participant who actually chased me around the theatre during one show, but this weeks guy had to be one of my favourites. As I approached him he was waving ferociously and as I reached his seat I discovered it was indeed a $20 bill he was brandishing. He proceeded to push the bill into the top of my dress much to the delight of the audience. However as soon as the song finished and I turned to address the rest of the room he swiftly jumped from his seat, lunged over my shoulder and plucked it right out again. I felt like the worlds worst stripper... still fully clothed and tip-less. 

He was a great sport though. I love a good spontaneous heckler. 

As I type, I'm just grabbing a quick meal at Dallas Fort Worth as i have a 2 hour layover en route to Miami. I'm meeting with my agent there tomorrow and we're heading to some meetings with some of the fabulous people currently keeping me in work this side of the pond and beyond. It's an early start tomorrow so a power nap on my next flight might be in order. 

I'm enjoying my adventure so far. Spending the day in San Diego this week was definitely a highlight. It's without doubt one of the friendliest places I've been to in the states. Especially the guys! Very friendly indeed! A brief stop in Cabo also satisfied. It's apparently the second most expensive place in the world to moor a yacht, after Monaco.if I'd known, I'd have worn heels! 

Well, I'm looking forward to part two of this 23 day jaunt away, Panama, the American Virgin Islands amongst other islands beckon.The Equinox is a bigger ship, but its facilities are beautiful and its theatre not unlike any you'd see in London. 

It's days like today, even though I've spent most of the day on the plane, I realise exactly how crazy my life has become. I've been to Mexico, Dallas and Miami. Last week I took a taxi through Guatemala, a guy gave and took back a $20 bill from my cleavage and now believe it or not, an ACTUAL dog is in the seat next to me on the plane.  Not a handbag dog... A Labrador.

I'm not really an animal fan to be honest. And it keeps wagging at my legs.

This could only happen to me. 

Happy New Year one and all.

Its been a LONG LONG time since I posted on this blog but my re-emergence directly co-incides with the anticipated launch of my all new website www.jaynecurry.co.uk

Having realised its the 21st century after all and people like their information to be instant and readily available, my husband has cajoled me into re inventing the way I communicate with the people I meet and have met on board ships and on my other travels. The soon to be re-launched website will allow people to buy CD's online, check my whereabouts, my availability and with the direct link to the blog (which I promise to more frequently update) and even follow me around the world if you so choose. Last year was an inordinately busy year for me and whilst 2014 is looking pretty healthy so far, I'm hoping to be able to spend a little more time with my loved ones and am very much looking forward to the wedding of the century in August this year as my little brother marries his girlfriend of 15 years in a festival themed wedding entitled "Glaston-Curry". To say I am excited is the understatement of the century.

I finished off 2013 with a bang performing at "The Club" Abu Dhabi - a 4,000 member establishment that has been in existence for ex-pats for over 50 years now... longer than the UAE has been in existence. After a busy winter, and a fantastic family Christmas back in the UK, Steve and I were able to travel together to Abu Dhabi and we opted to extend our stay in the region so that Steve could play some golf in preparation for his entry to the Asian tour Qualifying school in February this year. (you can follow his progress at www.asiantour.com ... Steve PARRY not Curry hahaha)
I'll be quite frank.. I didn't go to a lot of this golf.. not when the Dubai Mall, the largest and most visited shopping mall in the world was hosting its annual shopping festival. It was open till 1am each day and tantalised with a cornucopia of daily offers and sales. I was like a pig in the proverbial and thoroughly enjoyed a little "me" time. My choice of pastime didn't seem to irk Steve's golfing preparations any, though I hasten to add that naturally, he shot his best round of golf of the week, on the toughest course he played when I was driving the buggy!

We flew in to Abu Dhabi overnight with Etihad from Manchester landing in the morning of the 31st and after various hiccups managed to snatch a few hours sleep prior to a sound check and a quick bite before the gig. I was to perform 3 x 45 minutes sets, on my own, to almost 700 people who initially were seated at tables around a beautifully ornately decorated swimming pool terrace with food and drinks as far as the eye could see. After a cabaret spot, I performed 2 x dance spots for the already inebriated revellers who knew exactly how to welcome the new year in style, celebrating at midnight with a 10 minute enormous firework display projected from a barge in the sea, directly over the stage they had built on the beach to support my performing area and dance floor. Needless to say, jetlag or no jetlag, Steve and I thoroughly delighted in the opportunity to spend some of this special occasion drinking and dancing together as so frequently we're absent from each other at special times.
The first of the new year was spent mainly in recovery for me after such a full on 36 hours (see picture 2!) but Steve went off to golf and we met later in the day.

After a fantastic week in the UAE, catching up with friends and seeing the sights I'm back in the UK now and have a few days in preparation for my next trip to the Celebrity Century which I pick up on January 14th in Guatemala. This marks the beginning of a year of work which I'm really very much looking forward to, working for companies I thoroughly enjoy being a part of and performing my show to many  nationalities and walks of life from all over the globe. I promise to keep updating the site, if anyone's interested ???? as I'll be visiting some pretty exotic locations in the first four

 

 

months or so of this year: Panama, The US, Langkawi, Namibia to name but a few.
Thank you very much for reading and may I wish you all a very happy and prosperous 2014!!!! Now get that cruise booked ;-)

                               

goodbye Windsurf.. the final furlong...

Hello all. Apologies for the sporadic nature of my posts. I could tell you it was due to lack of internet connectivity but in all honesty I have been busy enjoying my time rather than sitting and writing about it. And now I find myself in the executive lounge at Barbados airport with half an hour to spare, I have time to update.
Yesterday I left the Windsurf. The yacht had been my surrogate home for the last four and a half weeks and it was harder than I imagined bidding farewell to the friends and colleagues I had come to know and respect over the past month. It has certainly been a rollercoaster ride for me... no two days the same, no two shows even comparible but amidst the tears and hugs my departure signified the beginning of the end of my epic caribbean adventure, and the final challenge of six weeks of highs and lows??? .my tranship to the Celebrity Millenium ship this morning in San Juan.
I stayed in a lovely hotel last night in Rockley Barbados and used my ttime there to reflect on the last contract and consider the next (also to dye my hair which has turned out rather disastrously and must be ammended immediately upon my arrival onboard.. sore subject.. wont mention that again)
The ship I join today is the opposite end of the cruising scale to the last. Its a large vessel with a seven piece orchestra. I think it carries almost 2000 passengers in comparison to the mere 300 onboard the Windsurf. I do like the smaller ships, after working for Windstar and Silversea, I am rather fond of the personability and intimacy they lend to my experience. However, the draw of the big band and the possibility of working in the theatre excites me and motivates me and I am equally looking forward to getting my teeth stuck into the fresh challenge.
Inevitably getting on a new ship for a new company I have never worked for before is daunting. I know no one. I am a solo female traveller. It can be intimidating to say the least especially after the veritable family welcome of the less grandios vessels. But I am only six sleeps from home now... and a fresh challenge awaits me... so I must try to remain positive. I am hoping to meet up with two very good friends at the weekend as our ships dock together in Barbados before I fly home Saturday so I am looking forward to that immensely. Unfortunately I miss them by one day in two other ports this week which is unfortunate but the pair of them are a terrible influence on me (pie and beer related debauchery) so maybe its a blessing in disguise. haha.

Some of the highlights of my time onboard Windsurf? Well there are far too many to include them all. But I feel I've learnt a lot. Not factually, but probably more about myself. I'm stronger and weaker than I think I am... (free wine being my downfall I'm afraid) but I have managed to pull myself together on several occasions when I've been struggling with missing my husband and family by keeping my eyes on the prize and surrounding myself with the loveliness of others.
There are some experiences this contract that will stay with me forever, hiking over the hill to the desserted beach in Mayreau, the fabulous day out in Grenada, the rum soaked Catamaran tour and my time on Tobago Cays beach. The valentines party and the farewell Ladies Night party in the crew bar dancing with virtually every crew member at one juncture or another, Chicken Roti on pigeon Island, the crazy Tobin James wine cruise passengers, the fantastic lunch in St Barths, the zodiac trip to the Windspirit to do one of the most enjoyable shows I've ever performed... and last but by no means least, falling on my backside, well actually flat out on my back in the middle of talking to the audience in my show and spending the rest of the week telling everyone I was ok and that all I'd hurt was my pride. (I have fallen over no fewer than 5 times this contract)
But the journey is not yet complete... there are new friends yet to make, new destinations to visit,a suntan to perfect and a gymnasium to reaquaint myself with (mmm that bit's not been going too well....) Then, I have a husband to squeeze very hard, a family to thank for being so solid for me everytime I've wobbled, a brother to tease over turning 30 and a godaughter to cuddle... and less than a week later... another adventure to embark upon. But for now, thankyou to the crew and passengers of the Windsurf, for the fabulous memories and hours of laughter I'll remember for a very long time to come.  xxxxxxx