When planning a cruise, it is worth looking at where the ships actually dock. Very often, the places visited are unable to take massive passenger liners as the seabed is too shallow or the channels too narrow so the ships end up miles away, often in freight terminals with nothing in walking distance and a long bus ride to the advertised destination.

The port advertised as Rome is more than an hour from the city, visitors to Cairo are disappointed to find they actually arrive more than 120 miles away and people with no local knowledge are surprized to find that rather than seeing Big Ben from their window they are really in Southampton. This goes some way to explaining why I ended up in Whittier, Alaska.

Whittier is where the cruise ships dock to pick up their guests from the airport in Anchorage (about 60 miles away) and is a place so unusual it is hard to describe. Its official website describes it as a city but since it only has around 200 residents this gives a false impression of its size. Almost everyone lives in the same building, a former army barracks resembling a university hall of residence. The 14-story block is called Begich Towers and has its own tiny shop, church in the basement, post office, launderette, cork notice board in the entrance and reindeer pen outside.

There are steep mountains around three sides of Whittier and the sea along the fourth. This access problem is what makes it so distinctive a place to visit. The only way to get anything in or out is through a single lane three-mile-long tunnel. For thirty minutes you can only travel in one direction then for the next thirty minutes you can only go the opposite way, unless it is night-time in which case the tunnel is closed altogether and fishing boats are the only choice. The problem for the boats is the wind, it is not unusual for 60mph winds to blow for an entire week and the police force patrol the hills on skis. Bemused tourists leave their cruise ships to ‘explore the town’ and are back within an hour.

However, on the rare day the sun is shining (Whittier suffers 200 inches of rain per year) it is the most beautiful place imaginable. Mountain goats, sea otters and 26 glaciers all of which make for a memorable day, although what it is like to live there, year-round, is another question.

I think this setting would be perfect for a crime novel. A tower block cut off from the world by weather and location, no way in or out… I should get on to writing that one day.

In the morning PSE Video, one about AIDS

RS another video. Geography industry

In the afternoon English papers, looking at the test mark

French written exam paper

After school bought a tape, looked at magazines

In the evening music lesson. It went really well too.

Watched TV and videos, recorded another side

I am looking forward to Easter

Morning 6, afternoon 6, evening 5

Summary not bad day I suppose. Total 6

I am 16 and this was my last year at high school (hence all the talk of exams and test marks). There is one week left until the Easter holidays and I have evidently discovered grammar.

Our high school had a two week timetable with week A and week B, so all the ‘minor’ subjects were only 45mins every two weeks. One of these was PSE, something I completely forgot about until writing this. I went online to try and jog my memory for what this was and according to the online dictionary, there are 141 things PSE could stand for. Some of them I can eliminate fairly quickly, we were obviously not taking classes in ‘Philippine Stock Exchange’, ‘Precision Shooting Equipment’ or ‘Parti Socialiste Européen’. Instead I have deduced this must have been ‘Personal and Social Education’ a subject that made so little impact on me, I can’t remember ever doing it. Anyway, it seems like it included a video about AIDS.

Videos must have been a big part of my life. They are mentioned three times in this one diary entry. During the mid-nineties there was a craze of digital watches that had a remote control function. Our classmates used to play havoc with the teachers (who could never work the video recorders) by pointing their watches at the receiver and fast forwarding or stopping the film. It was great fun until the teachers realised what was happening and deprived us of the ‘joy’ of watching a decades old educational video.

‘Bought a tape, looked at magazines’ was a typical way I spent my journey home. We had the oddest independent record shop on our local high street. Rather than everything being stocked in alphabetical order or by genre, the rather eccentric owner categorised everything by record company and then by the sub category of release date. So if you knew that it came out on Sony records in 1988, it was easy to find. If not, you had no choice other than to ask the owner who would then theatrically sigh and mutter before making a big performance about how obvious it was where to look. It is little wonder that shop shut down.

My music lesson referred to my brief phase of learning the clarinet. I was terrible and could do little more than produce high pitch squeaking noises. Much like learning languages, if I couldn’t do it straight away, I lost interest. My clarinet teacher was a super fan of Eastenders and I found that I could distract her so much with discussion of her beloved soap opera and so could waste the whole lesson and avoid playing a note. I gave up when I failed my grade 2 exam and gave my clarinet to charity without telling my parents. By the time they found out, it had been sold.

‘Morning 6, afternoon 6, evening 5. Summary not bad day I suppose. Total 6’ was fairly standard. 6/10 was a good day, 5/10 was a bad day. As far as I can see, there were only three days in the whole of 1998, I didn’t score as either a 5 or 6 (they were 7s). Nuance has never been a friend of mine.

This week I ordered a book from Amazon as a birthday gift. Yes, absolutely, I could have walked into town and used our local independent book shop, like a good citizen supporting the struggling high street businesses but it was lightly raining and I am lazy.

Upon checkout, I had the option of choosing three day delivery (an extra £4.99) or five day delivery (only £2.49). As the birthday isn’t until early September, I chose the later option. It was delivered the next day, which is great customer service but makes me wonder what the point of the two delivery options is when it arrives the next day regardless.

I immediately got an email asking me how the delivery was and on the bottom, saw the following magazines were recommended for me:

Apart from the combination offered, the next thing that struck me is how expensive the Kindle version of the Radio Times is, no wonder it is struggling in the star ratings. According to user reviews, it doesn’t arrive until halfway through the week when many of the programs have already been on.

This sent me down an online wormhole of discovering what else is recommended for me.

Apparently, the algorithms have decided I am interested in:

• Wooden flooring installation
• Campari
• Children’s shoes
• Retirement homes
• Inflatable palm trees

I have not taken this list as a compliment. I mean, Campari?

How many people are looking for both children’s shoes and retirement homes. Also, I wonder how the inflatable palm tree market is doing during these ‘unprecedented times’…

All this makes me want a Campari.

Putting on a talent show towards the end of a holiday is a guaranteed way to pull in a large crowd, meaning the managers are always very keen to include them in the programme, even if what comes on stage isn’t worth the effort. There are a number of steps to the process.

Step One – Registration

               A notice would be displayed asking people wanting to take part to meet at a given time. This is important to measure the level of interest and also filter out those who are unsuitable for a family show (generally, men of a certain age who don’t understand why their jokes are offensive “you can’t say anything these days”) or those who are not ready. “I would like to play the violin” “great, do you have a violin?” “not with me”

Step Two – Rehearsal

               This is by far, the worst part of the process. The people who turn up are usually completely different to the people who registered in the first place and at least half will have changed their act to something entirely different. A group of singing kids who now want to make gingerbread instead, that kind of thing. Another problem that raises its head at this stage, is that many of the people who registered don’t actually have an act and want me to teach them a dance routine or how to juggle by tomorrow.

               Between the rehearsal and the show, it is inevitable I will receive a series of emails, letters and phone calls regarding the people who have signed up. About a third will have changed their minds (often the best ones) but have found somebody to take their place. I have learned, it is worth checking if this other person actually knows they are being volunteered.

               Then come the requests. I now always bring the lyrics of the songs as it is probable many people won’t know most of the words to their tune of choice.  People suddenly decide it is vital they are provided with a long list of items they can’t possibly perform without. Often it is costumes “do you have a white and orange stripy jumpsuit I can borrow in a size 12” or “is there a leather jacket you don’t need that I can paint slogans onto?”. Other things I have been ask to locate with little warning have included a hay bale, three tins of yellow paint, a grand piano together with somebody to play it, a live dog and a mini cooper that can be driven through a fire door onto the stage.

Step Three – The Show

               No matter how early I arrive, there will be a line of people wanting to talk to me. People who were up late drinking have mysteriously fallen ill and can’t perform, people who have suddenly realised they don’t have the music they need, people who have written their own introductions for me to read out (often at least three pages long) and almost nobody will want to do what they did at the rehearsal yesterday. I will have to change the running order at least half a dozen times before we begin.

               The majority of the time, the shows are fine, if a little underwhelming. They are usually very fast, many people are done in less than 60 seconds and I have to stretch the time to make it worthwhile. There will always be a child who forgets what they are doing and starts crying. Also, somebody who announces that I wouldn’t let them do what they wanted. How unfair, they tell the audience, I didn’t provide them with a kangaroo costume that their family only requested two minutes after the show started. In amongst the people doing star jumps, blowing up balloons with their nose and telling slightly off-colour poems rather than the sonnet agreed, we struck gold.

• Some children playing flutes while simultaneously doing ballet
• A couple who both took the opportunity to propose marriage to the other
• A young woman who played 80s rock songs on the vacuum cleaner

In 2018, I made the best decision of my life, not marriage or children but to never run another talent show. I have never been happier.  

“This would be a great opportunity to explore a new career” said the lady being interviewed on the radio.

Like millions of other people, I am currently unemployed and am not finding job hunting easy. There is not much available and what is on offer isn’t that appealing. There have been stories in the news this week about thousands of people applying for a single position as a bar tender. If candidates with masses of qualifications and years of experience are finding it tough, what hope is there for people like me?

So, what can I actually do? When I was at high school, we had to fill in a skills survey and the results arrived a few days later in the post. I remember opening the letter excitedly only to find that my top match was prison officer. This experience has made me a little sceptical of the careers guidance profession.

An online job search this morning was fairly typical of the last few weeks. Almost everything on offer was either construction (to which I am not well suited) or care providing (which apparently needs certificates). I saw a company advertising for a ‘Front End Developer’. The skills required included ‘React.js, Angular & Vue.js’ and the fact I have no idea what language this is, almost certainly means I am unqualified.

I decide to start filling in a government provided, online career guidance skills assessment. They are free and are supposed to only take a few minutes. It is a long series of questions and I need to tick a box on a scale between strongly agree and strongly disagree.

• I am comfortable telling people what they need to do
• I make decisions quickly
• I prefer to follow what other people are doing

The questions keep on coming and as my brain starts to melt, the ‘I am unsure’ box gets used more and more.

• I set myself targets
• I am a competitive person
• I like to see things through to the end

By the time it is all over, I am completely beaten into submission and have no idea if I agree or not. The only positive decision I have made so far is to get a lottery ticket and hope that it solves all my problems.

Eventually the results come through. My top matches are

• Member of Parliament
• TV Stuntman

I wonder what I must have ticked to make this combination of results.

A quick check of the job centre shows that neither of these occupations have any current vacancies. It is true to say my scepticism for careers guidance remains unchanged.

Now, where is that lottery ticket?