On board the Irene, Thursday 12th

It’s six o'clock … not sure how many bells that is, several at least, and I think we must be going over the mid-channel central reservation. We are out of sight of land and out of mobile phone range. Just us, blue sea and several enormous, ugly, great container, bulk, oil, something-carrying ships that are crossing out path.

"Steam gives way to sail". Oh yes? Something that looks like a floating shopping centre isn't going to stop for us. Probably they can't even see us. That's if there's anyone on board and it’s not a robot.

Crew are all saying how lucky we are to have picked the perfect day to join the ship. Agree.

Sacha and Leslie are heaving on a rope. Just bored I think. It’s all working perfectly well anyway. We are doing virtually eight knots. This is, so far, the fastest channel crossing Sacha has ever done. We could be at the Needles in four hours, he says. Which is way ahead of schedule. Well, as I keep saying, I think Hugh and I were owed a good crossing after the previous ones.

We both notice how our normal tendency to always be fiddling with things – writing in his case – stops on a ship like this. You just sit, or lie on a skylight roof and stare. Stare at sea, sky sails. Mesmeric. You nod off. Waking for a meal or mug of tea. Up down up down creak creak splash splash. If it was always like this at sea we'd all live on it.

Exciting interlude when a seagull with only one good leg lands on the stern. Hugh asks what it wants. Food. It gets the rest of our lunch. Very hungry. I wouldn't go too close, Hugh.

The grizzled old salts discuss more rope pulling. The youngest crew members just lie in the sun and gaze adoringly at each other; well, she is very pretty and he is Corsican. Red has put down his camera and is steering. Lots of banter and laughter round the wheel. Others must be below.

Try imagining what a trip to Australia on something like this must have been like. Months! Now there's an idea. I know plenty Australians be mad enough.

Seem to be the only one wearing his auto-inflate life jacket. And I am not taking it off. It has a little light so they will be able to find me when we hit that bloody great tanker.

They don't have sharks here do they?

Enough of this. Time to get back to staring.