I always enjoy the trip across the Irish Sea, whether to Heysham on the slower ferry or, as today, on the fast craft Manannan to Liverpool. The late summer weather is kind to me today, with the mirror flat sea reflecting the blue and white of a lightly clouded sky. The Manannan flies along at more than forty knots, diesel engines roaring and a huge wake boiling behind her twin hulls.

Despite the speed, the ride is smooth, thanks to her wave-piercing hulls, and it’s nice to be able to move around, have a sandwich and a coffee and just relax for a couple of hours. I think this is why I prefer the ferry over the admittedly much faster option of just jumping on the plane. Much simpler security protocols really help as well, as does an effectively unlimited luggage allowance. The shopping day-trip to Liverpool is an almost vital part of Manx culture at this point.

Not that I’m a heavyweight traveller. Far from it. I’ve just one suitcase with me and a separate heavy backpack that contains my DSLR, lenses and even my laptop. I’m not a great laptop user, but I do often use it for backing up the photos I take and just to keep minimally in touch with clients, Gilly and Mum. It’s a bit of a monster, though, and I can work on it if the need arises.

The ferry company, now owned by our somewhat shambolic government, are soon going to be moving to a new, purpose-built terminal. That is, if it is ever finished before the money runs out. It will be a little piece of the Isle of Man in England and will have cost more than any sensible entity would ever pay for such a thing.

Until its completion, though, the ferry shares the main landing-stage with the regular larger visitors to the port and we arrive in the shadow of the spectacular and iconic Liver Building and the 19th century waterfront that was, until very recently, a world heritage site.

I can walk off my ferry, wheeling my suitcase behind me and within a few minutes I’m standing in the queue to board the ship that will be my home for the next eight days. Relaxing in the queue, I can see that most of my fellow travellers are perhaps somewhat older than I am, but not excessively so. Generally, they are retired couples, but there are one or two who appear to be single travellers and, thankfully, but not surprisingly, there appear to be no children.

The paperwork of boarding is quick and simple. I’m asked if I have any dietary or medical needs, given my key card and a guide to the itinerary and to life on board. Within just a few minutes I’m walking up the gangway and being directed towards the correct deck and companionway to find my cabin.

The cabin isn’t huge, but it’s not small either. Clearly it has been designed as a single, despite the large bed, but I do have a small balcony and the bathroom seems to be comfortable and well appointed. A quick knock on the door, just a few minutes later, gives me an introduction to Tom, who will be my steward for the duration of the trip.

“Welcome aboard Sir,” he says as he greets me with a smile. “Do you need anything before dinner?”

“Something to uplift a solo traveller, perhaps?”

“A bottle of Prosecco?”

“You read my mind.”

I really don’t usually drink a lot, but I’m on vacation and my portside cabin has a good view of the landing stage and the dockside buildings as we prepare to set sail. It’s warm enough to relax outside and just enjoy a couple of glasses. Champagne would have felt a little excessive – and been subject to a surcharge – but a couple of glasses of something bubbly is just what I need right now.

Tom brough a small tray of snacks for me to munch on as well, something that I appreciate as we have a fair wait until dinner and I haven’t had anything since a late breakfast on the ferry at about eleven this morning. Just before five in the afternoon, we are slowly making our way down the Mersey and towards the Irish Sea. Determined to not sit drinking all afternoon, even though it is only prosecco, I stir myself into action and step back into the cabin to unpack and make myself at home.

I hang the couple of things that need hanging, pile everything else into the closets and set my laptop up on the small desk. The wi-fi code is printed in my welcome pack and I’m soon connected to a pretty slow, but adequate, internet connection. It is complementary, which leads me to suspect that they are one of the early adopters of Starlink.

There’s nothing for me to deal with, so I can close the laptop down and go for a bit of an explore before I need to get ready for the evening.

The ship is big, but not huge like some of the ships that work the Caribbean and Mediterranean. There are four decks with cabins and basically three decks that are accessible to all passengers.

So, one deck for primary dining and administration, another for entertainment, shopping and relaxation with bars, casino, library and theatre. This leaves the more open upper deck for the pool, more bars, a themed restaurant and the gym. I’m not one for the gym, but a couple of laps of the open promenade is both relaxing and invigorating in equal measure. I might even manage a spell in the hot tub later in the trip if the weather holds.

I spend an age just standing at the rail, watching as the coast north of the Mersey slips away into the distance, the ship soon far enough away from shore that the horizon line begins to flatten towards oceanic level. It’s time to return to my cabin and get myself organised for dinner.

The shower is superb; room to move, hot water and good pressure. I’m not one for make-up, but I do use a very light moisturiser after shaving with my electric razor. I really can’t decide what to wear and finally settle on button-up shirt and light slacks. I’m not getting formal for anyone and this really isn’t that sort of cruise ship anyway.