Sunday was the day everyone started throwing up. It was also the day they closed both the pools and cancelled half the onboard events due to inclement weather. And don't even get me started on the outbreak of food poisoning.

But for me personally, the day started well when I was stuck in a lift with half of Table 39. It doesn't get much better than that. It gave them a chance to fill me in on the hideous seasickness which had confined them to their beds for most of the morning, and the dodgy shrimp which was threatening to wipe out most of the King & I regulars.

As for our travelling companion S, she was forced to stay in bed for 36 hours due to extreme nausea, giving Big Sis a chance to take me to the Casino Royale and demonstrate her mathematical formula for winning big on the Wheel of Fortune. It basically involved feeding large denomination bills into the slot for five minutes, pressing a few buttons, saying "oh well" and walking off. I learnt a lot.

From there, Lisa and I went to see 'The Artistry of Fluoresence', followed by a woman with a whip who said "Ole" a lot. Personally I preferred Elaine Lesley the previous night. She's apparently an "internationally acclaimed singer and entertainer", though not quite internationally acclaimed enough to have her own website. She was followed by the 'Splendour Quest', a scavenger hunt which gave drunk Americans a chance to take their clothes off in public and wave their false teeth around.

We finished Sunday night back at the Viking Cown Lounge, where word reached me that a search party from Table 39 were out there scouring every bar on the ship in the hope of finding me, taking my photo, and getting my e-mail address. It's the kind of news that makes you wish plastic surgery was available in nightclubs. Sure enough I was hunted down within half an hour, tried to hide on the dancefloor, and ended up pretending I couldn't hear them over the loud music. They eventually left empty handed.

Monday morning was our last on the ship, and with great kindness, Royal Caribbean insist you're out of your cabin by 7am. Which, if you're Big Sis, means you're still packing at 7:30. But a freezing cold breakfast later, and we were ready to leave. Having arranged to meet Sis and S at the main exit a few minutes later, they went to buy photos of themselves, and Lisa and I headed down in the lift.

Forty-five minutes later (or maybe it was more like an hour), we began to wonder if they'd left without us. Suspicions which were confirmed when a member of staff came up to us with a walkie-talkie, asked if I'm Philip Gardner, and told me my sister's gone through customs, immigration, and baggage reclaim, and was halfway to Galveston town centre when she realised we weren't with her. Apparently I was two minutes from having my name broadcast over the ship's tannoy, and seeing my picture at the lost child desk.

Half an hour later, and with Sis close to calling the police, we were eventually reunited, and headed back to Dallas, taking a short cut through toll-booth country and stopping only to eat white gravy at a branch of Dairy Queen.

After a holiday like that, Lisa and I clearly needed a bit of peace and quiet to recover, so we were naturally delighted when Big Sis's landlord turned up unannounced yesterday afternoon, let himself in, told us he thought the place would be empty, decided to wander around upstairs, and then started watching TV. Anyone would think he owned the place. Oh hang on, he does. But by the time he left, we were firm friends. You can't help but feel close to someone who's walked in on your girlfriend in her pyjamas.

As for today, well I've just answered the door to the pest control man, who insisted on coming in to check for termites. He'd been booked by the landlord, who clearly felt we enjoyed the company of uninvited guests yesterday, and could do with a few more today. But the good news is Big Sis's house is officially termite-free. The only problem is the underground flooding which could cause the place to collapse at any moment. Though hopefully not before we leave tomorrow afternoon.

Yes, I know we look quite cheerful, but I think we were just pleased to have found the place where Kirsty McColl was mowed down by a speedboat. Inwardly we were still traumatised by the land of the giant lizards. But I digress...

Saturday was our one and only day off the ship. Naturally I couldn't wait, so I was up at 7:30am and queuing for a place on the little boat (called a tender) (and yes, I did love my tender) to the Mexican island of Cozumel. Cozumel turned out to be an interesting place. Some might call it a dump, but me, well I'd call it a complete dump. Though I did enjoy seeing the locals riding around on their motorbikes without helmets, and with small babies in their arms. We even encountered a family of five who were managing to travel together on one scooter.

Passing a shop called 'Drugs & Deli', which sold Prozac and sandwiches, we made our way to the local car rental place, where Sis argued with a Mexican until he eventually agreed to let us have a car with no air conditioning, windows that didn't work, and an illuminated warning light on the dashboard which read "Service Engine Soon". Fortunately the company had stuck a sticker over that light in an attempt to stop us seeing it and worrying unnecessarily.

Belted up in the ramshackle vehicle of death, we made our way to the centre of the island to visit some Mayan ruins. Personally I felt we'd already seen enough ruins driving through downtown Cozumel, but these ruins cost $5 to visit, so we knew they'd be good. And we weren't wrong.

Unfortunately it's hard to concentrate on historic piles of rubble when you walk through the gates and see this heading straight towards you.

I should point out here that lizards of any description are pretty much Lisa's worst nightmare. Giant lizards doubly so. And dozens of giant lizards in every direction approaching you with their mouths open, are off the other end of the nightmare scale. But hey, the iguanas weren't everywhere. They were just all over the ruins we'd paid to see.

Undeterred however, we made our way deeper into Lizard Land, Lisa hyperventilating, on the verge of a panic attack, and with her eyes permanently shut, while Big Sis attempted to stroke the biggest iguana she could find. After getting lost, going round in circles, and recreating the plot of Jurassic Park for half an hour, we clambered across a ruin, encountered a reptile with a four foot tail ("It's like a dog!" - Lisa), and eventually made it back to the gift shop, where Lisa enquired about counselling and vowed never to visit Mexico again.

From there it was on to the Coconuts Bar where I paid $3 for a portion of fries and received a plate with about six chips on it, allowing Lisa to sign their guestbook with the message "I've never felt so full". After which we went to the restrooms, which featured doors with no locks which swing open of their own accord, and toilets which don't flush. But hey, who needs flushing toilets when you can have an open bucket in the corner with a sign asking you to place your used toilet paper inside.

The view from our table was quite spectacular though. It's just a good job Lisa didn't spot the giant lizard on a day out at the seaside until we'd finished our fries. There was nowhere to run but the toilets, and frankly you wouldn't want to go in there twice.

By mid afternoon we'd made it to Paradise Beach, where we found time to pick up a bit of agonising sunburn to take back to the ship, before heading back into town and haggling with a Mexican over a cheap snow globe for a gay friend.

So that was our day in Cozumel. Not great, but it could have been worse - it could have been two days in Cozumel.

So there I was, cast adrift with a few hundred Americans, and sleeping on two rock-hard camp-beds pushed together, in a permanently vibrating room with no natural light and only warm water to drink. But it wasn't all bad. We still had breakfast to look forward to. Personally I was keen to avoid the main dining room at all costs, and eat in the self service restaurant at the other end of the ship, but Big Sis assured us there was no need. Apparently breakfast was entirely different to dinner, and guests could sit wherever they wanted, alone, and free from unwanted table companions who say 'awesome' a lot.

Naturally we believed her. Which was our first mistake. Turning up for breakfast on the first morning, Lisa and I specifically requested a table for two. And were promptly led to a table for ten, where an entirely different set of Americans were keen to discuss their sea sickness with us. Not ones to offend people unnecessarily, we immediately asked to be moved to a table on our own - an outrageous request (clearly) which sent the waitress into a fit of panic. Having led us up and down the dining room for two minutes, she eventually had to go to her superior for special permission to seat us at a table built for four. Where we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast being constantly hassled by three different waiters every 30 seconds.

But hey, there was still the free frozen yoghurt. I headed straight for deck nine, found the frozen yoghurt machine didn't open til 11am, and instead crossed the deck to the tea & coffee machine, where I tried to relax while the ship photographer attempted to sell me photos of myself drinking tea.

Naturally I soon developed a headache, but managed to attend the afternoon's bingo session with Big Sis and S, who'd paid $50 for six bingo cards, only to find it was all over within half an hour, and they hadn't come within 3 numbers of a win.

A quick game of Video Blackjack later, and Lisa and I attempted to block out the reality of the situation by falling asleep in the Solarium. Some free pizza lifted our spirits, after which we headed to the Windjammer Cafe for dinner, in preference to the horrors of the King & I Dining Room. It was actually very good. So by 10pm our spirits were high. Having informed Sis that we planned to avoid our dining companions for the rest of the cruise, and wouldn't be seen within half a mile of Table 39 as long as we had breath in our bodies, we headed to the Top Hat Lounge at 10pm where we'd arranged to meet Big Sis and S for some karaoke.

Naturally they were late. But hey, you can't move so fast when you bring all your dining companions with you. Frankly I was surprised they didn't bring the table too. Then again they didn't need to - they were all quite happy to join Lisa and I on ours.

Actually I'm exaggerating - Sis didn't bring the whole of Table 39 with her. One member of the team had won the Ms Biceps competition at the poolside that afternoon, and was still out celebrating with her daughter. Which was a shame, because it meant they didn't get to see The Table 39 Singers (minus Phil & Lisa) performing 'Love Shack' at full volume and with rather too much enthusiasm. You've never seen an entire room clear so fast.

Lisa and I soon escaped to the Viking Crown Lounge for a live performance by the Village People, which turned out to be five members of the crew in cheap fancy dress miming to a record, before drowning our sorrows in overpriced Diet Coke, and dancing to the BeeGees.

It was a relaxing end to the day, and things were clearly looking up. But of course at this point we hadn't yet been cornered in the Mexican jungle by this chap and three hundred of his friends...

I bought this book last Tuesday for $2.99 from the bargain section of some bookshop in Mesquite. It's called 'How to Refuse to Make Yourself Miserable About Anything - Yes, Anything', by Dr Albert Ellis PhD, and promises to "annihilate your feelings of anxiety, despair & hostility" in less than 200 pages. It's a kind of 'Just Say No' book for the fed up.

Which is all very well of course, but Dr Ellis has clearly never been on a four-day cruise to Cozumel. Even Bert at his most cheery would have been slitting his wrists by the end of the first day.

Not that it started badly. We had a pleasant five hour drive to Galveston last Thusday morning, stopping in Dallas to pick up S, younger sister of J (they're a family of initials), who we met last Sunday. S had kindly agreed to share Big Sis's ocean-view cabin in return for doing most of the driving. Having arrived at the south Texas coast, we were greeted by the Royal Caribbean check-in desk staff, who had never seen a British passport before, and spent an enjoyable few minutes flicking through it and saying "Oooh, it's like a rainbow!", before asking if England comes under Ireland or the UK. Naturally we were holding up the line by this point, so taking a quick look at the long queue of impatient holidaymakers behind us, they immediately got out the wedding photos. Apparently I'm the spitting image of one of the women's sons, and she just had to prove it to me.

A leisurely flick through a stranger's family album, and we were eventually allowed to board the Splendour of the Seas, where we were handed small cups of blue liquid by a man in a Hawaiian shirt. I wasn't sure whether to drink it or swill it around my mouth and spit it overboard, but in the end I downed it in one and hoped for the best. I still have no idea what it was.

From there it was on to our cabin. Or the windowless broom cupboard it was clearly designed to be. Having discovered that the beds were basically two bits of hardboard with blankets, and that the cold tap only ever produced warm water, I looked for the kind of tea & coffee making facilities you find in all cheap B&Bs. This was a luxury all-you-can-eat cruise, so naturally there were none whatsoever, but in their place were two bottles of water and some cans of Coke on the dressing table. So I helped myself to one of those...

... only to be told that when they say you can eat and drink as much as you like, they're thinking more of the warm tap water and complimentary pretzels. Anything out of a bottle is extra. So I'd racked up a bill of $2 within minutes of boarding.

Things improved however, when I discovered the free frozen yoghurt machine on deck nine, so by 7pm I was feeling better (and fuller), and headed for the 'Welcome Aboard Show' featuring comedian David Orion, who in addition to being Jerry Seinfeld's warm-up man, is also apparently "one of the most sought after acts on the corporate and faith-based entertainment circuits". So he's big with businessmen and Christians. I may not be that religious, but I'm reasonably good with money, so I quite enjoyed it.

The highlight of the evening though, was undoubtedly the main meal in the King & I Dining Room. We'd been assigned to Table 39 for the week, and having been led through the dining room past tables for two, and numerous tables for four, we eventually arrived at our designated table - a table for ten. Where six Americans were already waiting for us.

Now, I love Americans as much as the next man, and I'm not unsociable by nature, but being stuck around a table with six strangers for two hours every night, being asked where I come from, what I do, and what I think of pastry swans, is pretty much my idea of a living hell.

Still, the waiters did their best to improve things by bringing us the wrong wine, then trying to charge us $38 for the privilege, then expecting a tip when they eventually got it right. The food meanwhile was quite posh. Well it came in small portions anyway. I basically received a slice of quiche, a small bit of cod, and some pieces of apple, while Lisa ordered the chocolate dessert, only to be presented with a pot of white chocolate... which she can't stand. The menu obviously felt it wasn't worth mentioning.

By the end I was considering launching one of the lifeboats and heading back to Texas, but hey, this was only the first day. Things could get a lot worse...