But it was obvious after the first dinner aboard the Nautica that walking the promenade deck, dance sessions and visits to the ship‘s gym would be needed to fend off the kilos. The Nautica‘s fleet operator, Oceania, stands out in the competitive cruise industry with some of the best dining on offer at sea. Oceania Cruises was formed in 2002 with the casual elegance of a country club in mind. Its relaxed dining ambience encourages open seating in its restaurants, easing the way for solo cruisers to make friends. Tuxedos and gowns are not de rigueur, but I enjoyed throwing on the pearls in the ship‘s Grand Dining Room, especially as this was her inaugural voyage, sailing from Istanbul down the Aegean coast of Turkey with its myriad of bays and small islands and across the Mediterranean Sea to Athens. From the plush of the Grand Dining Room I had stepped out on deck under a sliver of moon to watch the receding minarets of the Istanbul skyline.

The Nautica is a handsome mid­sized ship of 30,277 tonnes, built for 680 passengers and one crew for every two passengers. The size of a ship is a matter of personal choice, but finding one‘s way around the Nautica does not present the challenge of larger ships.

Her passenger cabins spread over nine decks and their occupants diverge to the casino, cabaret lounge or cinema. It was pleasant to dine in restaurants that were not the size of rugby fields. And out on deck during the day there was no unseemly scrabble for deck chairs.

My cabin, or stateroomhad its own balcony, bathroom, small living area and personal steward to deliver 24­hour room service. A wall­to­ceiling mirror triggered reminders to visit the gym. Beyond my bed with its goose­down pillows were sliding doors opening to a balcony where I could sink into a chair, hoist my legs onto the railing and happily get hypnotised by the ocean.

Plugging a laptop into the cabin‘s Internet access port was far from my mind. Thankfully there were no shipboard announcements trumpeting passengers awake with news that the golf driving cage had opened on the top deck or that an art auction was underway in the library.

There were organised happenings from dawn to dusk but complete freedom to blob out. I could rise at first light to stretch with the Pilates class, or head to the swimming and spa pools or a deck chair to recline with a whodunnit I could book in for a free digital camera computer course, try my luck in the casino, shop in the boutiques or drop by one of seven bars or lounges. The Nautica didn‘t have live theatre productions, but her chefs made up for it by going all­out for our palates.

After leaving Istanbul, where we received a resounding send­off from a band of Turkish musicians in traditional costume, we headed down the Aegean coast toward the port of Kusadasi and the ancient city of Ephesus.

Dating from antiquity, Ephesus is regarded as the best­preserved classical city on the Mediterranean. Our late October voyage had entered the so­called off­season but worked in our favour, being free of the hordes and high costs. There were advantages when it came to buying a rug, too. In a Kusadasi carpet shop the vendor was keen to discount the price of his rugs before winter closed in. I returned to the ship with a vibrant Turkish rug, one that will always evoke memories of exquisite mosques and minarets and haunting calls to prayer.

Bodrum, further down the coast, is a pretty port of whitewashed houses spilling with bougainvillea. Standing sentinel at the harbour entrance is a 14th century crusader castle built by the Knights of St John and, inside, a museum of ancient artifacts recovered from shipwrecks.

However, the castle and its commanding view over Bodrum‘s beaches and surrounding islands is young compared to the amphitheatre on the crest of the hill overlooking the harbour. And if the Turkish government re­routes the busy highway that roars past the 2400­year­old theatre, it will survive the corrosive fumes, and audiences will once again enjoy live performances there as they did in the fourth century BC.

It was exciting to wake in a new port and watch from the balcony as the dexterous pilot boats steered our ship into port. We called in to Fethiye before crossing to Athens. Protected by 12 islets, the coastal city marks the point at which the Aegean melts into the Mediterranean. The fourth­century town of Telessos lies under modern Fethiye, with the exception of the 2500­year­old rock tombs cut into the cliffs above. Their crumbling columns are suspended from arches like giant rotting teeth.

I used to think that cruises submerged passengers in a seaborne world of Hi di hi campers. Short cruises on ships like the Nautica have changed my mind, as has a more recent cruise in the western Mediterranean from Genoa out through the Straits of Gibraltar to Madeira and Morocco on a cruise ship called the MSC Lirica.

As her name suggests, she was an Italian liner and her crew permeated the atmosphere with la dolce vita. From the balcony of my cabin (Yes, I am a cabin­with­a balcony convert), the hills of Genoa grew misty blue as the ship pointed south for Barcelona. It felt sublime riding the ocean, sometimes with seabirds for company. The wake creamed away from the ship as it cut through the waves and, in the distance, the form of a ship appeared as if painted on the horizon. The Lirica is 58,600 tonnes and can carry 1800 passengers, plus crew. You could tell the ones who had sailed with MSC Cruises before.

Italian Benito Carnevale was on his 86th cruise with the fleet. There was a mix of ages and families as well as a few single people, and the younger passengers on board were most visible at sundown. As midnight approached they let rip in the disco after warming up in the cabaret, where an excellent band set the tempo.

The cruising credo is to take time to unwind. Thus my first days on board went by in a haze of salt air and somnolence. The evenings were spent dancing with passengers who, like me, were trying to mitigate the damage of four­course meals. The steward always left a list of bumper­to­bumper daily activities beside the canapes he brought each afternoon. I could try my luck at bingo, learn to play bridge or take Latin American or flamenco dance lessons.

As we sailed south the sun shone with increasing warmth and I gravitated poolside. The days at sea also gave me time to pursue the salsa and the flamenco lessons, especially as the teacher was a smouldering Spanish male in tight black trousers. Female passengers thronged to his classes.

The flamenco and Brazilian dance instructors were multi­lingual, like many of the predominantly Italian crew. Flavia was Lirica‘s unrivalled queen of Latin American dance, putting us through our paces in English, French, German and Spanish as well as her native Italian. A senior passenger who danced with the suppleness of a plank took a shine to the lovely Flavia, and I can still see her face frozen in polite forbearance as he doggedly shunted her round the floor.

By the time we had sailed from Barcelona and Valencia through the southern Spanish ports of Malaga and Cadiz and through the Straits of Gibraltar to Madeira and Casablanca, the commodious cabin felt like a floating home. I remember a neighbour saying that she always preferred a holiday at sea because it was like returning home after each excursion ashore.

There wasn‘t the hassle of packing and unpacking each time. And unlike trips by air, the holiday feeling started from the moment the ship heaved out from the dock. The Nautica was a secure floating home, too. Not even the dexterous ladies of the Barcelona night were able to slip past the 24­hour surveillance crew on the gangplank during shore visits.

Which port of call did you like the best¬ The often­asked question from friends and family on the return home is not easy to answer when each of the places visited captured my interest in different ways. Perhaps because of its lonely position out to the northwest of Africa, the pretty Portuguese island of Madeira will remain a favourite. And to the east is Istanbul, the alluring city straddling the divide between Western and Eastern Europe.

Rather than toss the voyage appraisal form in my Lirica cabin in the bin, I decided to give the invited feedback. It had been my intention to get involved in many daily activities, I wrote. The truth is, I managed one attempt at deck quoits before succumbing to the rhythm of the sea, and the pleasure of a seaborne holiday that turned out to be as flexible as a rubber band.