Norway

Norway. The fjords. We've done plenty of Scottish island trips over the years, and this felt like the natural next step — somewhere new, but the same kind of big quiet scenery we'd come to love.

The trip started with a short hop from Edinburgh down to Southampton on a small propeller plane. Mum, unfazed as ever, climbed the steps with a smile.

We checked into the hotel, then took the train into town to stretch our legs. Southampton turned on the weather for us — warm sun, blue sky — and we found one of the central parks, chestnut trees in bloom and white blossom drifting across the grass. A nice easy afternoon before the big day ahead.

Back to the hotel for dinner and an early night. Tomorrow: the ship.

The sun was out in Southampton — warm and bright, the sort of day that makes you wonder if you've packed the right clothes for Norway. We laughed about it on the way to the terminal: we'd packed for cold and we were sweating in the queue.

Sky Princess was huge at the dock — bigger than you can really take in standing next to it. Inside, the atrium took our breath away: the big blue chandelier overhead, gold and marble everywhere, and the buzz of everyone settling in for the week.

The first proper day on board: nothing to do but enjoy the ship. We took it slowly — coffee in the morning, a wander around, then down to the theatre for a daytime show of Deal or No Deal with the audience playing along.

Later, a quiz in the Piazza. We'd already worked out this was going to be our spot — live music, somewhere to sit, the buzz of the ship around you. We came back here a lot over the week.

Then the main event: formal night. We dressed up — Stuart in a tuxedo, Mum in a black dress with red peonies — and went down to the atrium for the photos. It felt very fancy.

The highlight was the Captain's Champagne Waterfall — Mum got to pour the champagne over the tower of glasses, which neither of us had expected. We finished the night at the theatre for Rock Opera, which was genuinely brilliant.

Our first morning in Norway. We pulled into Stavanger under a clear blue sky and decided to start the day properly — a big room-service breakfast on the balcony, far more than two people could reasonably eat, in dressing gowns while the Norwegian coast drifted past.

Ashore, Stavanger was lovely. We wandered up through the old town — Gamle Stavanger, with its narrow cobbled lanes and neat white wooden houses — then back down through Fargegata, the famous painted street, every house a different colour: pink, lemon, turquoise, lavender.

We stopped for coffee and cake in town. The trolls outside one of the souvenir shops were too good not to pose with — three grumpy-looking old fellows in waistcoats.

Back on board for the evening, and the theatre again — this time for a country music band, then another stop in the Piazza on the way back.

The Loen Skylift was the day. We'd booked it before we left and had been quietly looking forward to it all week — a cable car climbing more than a thousand metres straight up out of the fjord.

The queue at the bottom was buzzing. Then the doors closed and we were lifted out over the trees, the village shrinking below, the fjord opening up, snow appearing on the peaks around us.

At the top, we stood on the viewing deck and just looked. The fjord stretched away in both directions, Sky Princess tiny on the water far below. Snow-capped mountains as far as you could see. It felt like being on top of the world. Genuinely emotional — for both of us.

We had a hot chocolate at the summit café — warm hands, big views — and rode the cable car back down still a bit stunned. The evening was a quieter one: back to the Piazza, drinks in hand, taking it all in.

Skjolden sits at the head of the Sognefjord — the longest, deepest fjord in the world — and you feel it the moment you arrive. The water is so still it reflects the mountains perfectly. Sky Princess looks enormous everywhere except here, where she sits tiny against the cliffs.

We started slowly — a proper dining-room breakfast for once, eggs and bacon, toast, French toast across the table — then a gentle wander around the small village before the main event.

And what an event. A RIB ride through the fjord. Bucket-list stuff, both of us said — and it really was. Clear skies, water like glass, the boat skimming along under huge cliffs. We had the best time. Mum, gloves and life vest and hat all on, beaming the whole way.

Back on board, a cocktail to wind down. The Piazza, again, was the right place to be.

Our last port of call — and a brisk, grey, classically Norwegian morning for it. Bergen suits that kind of light: the painted wooden warehouses of Bryggen line the harbour in deep reds, ochres and mustard, leaning into one another along the waterfront.

We walked into town, had a look at the fish market, and wandered the narrow Bryggen alleys — wooden boards underfoot, leaning gables overhead, hundreds of years of history packed into a few streets.

Then up the Fløibanen funicular for the view over the city. At the top, two surprises: a small white goat lazing on the path, and a giant grinning troll — round two with the trolls of Norway.

Back on board for lunch, then a well-earned afternoon snooze for both of us. The evening was a proper one: the Spotlight Bar's New Orleans set in the theatre, then a cocktail in the Piazza with a violinist playing classical music in the atrium. A good last-port night, with the run home still ahead.

The last day. A proper sea day to round off the trip — no port, no rush, just the run south across the North Sea back to Southampton. Outside, grey-blue water as far as you could see; inside, the ship had a quiet final-morning feel to it.

Breakfast in the dining room. And, of course, the question we'd come to know by heart — "more coffee, sir?" — asked again, and again, and again. The service on Sky Princess has been one of the best bits of the week: warm, attentive, never rushed. By Day Eight we'd stopped counting the top-ups and started just smiling and nodding.

Then to the main theatre for a culinary experience — one of the head chefs cooking live on stage with a camera projected onto the screen beside him, so you could see every flick of the wrist and tilt of the pan. From there, straight on to the galley itself.

Through the swing doors and into the working heart of the ship. Stainless steel everywhere — long lines of stoves, sinks, hot plates and prep stations, all of it gleaming. Hard to believe, from the calm of the dining room, that this is where thousands of plates an evening come from. Stacks of bowls, towers of little cups, the clink of crockery being readied for the next service.

A nice touch — letting passengers walk through on the final day, to see how it all works.

Lunch in the Piazza, with the live music drifting up through the atrium — that warm sound that's been the soundtrack to our week.

Then back to the theatre for Voices of the Ocean — a passenger singing contest, fellow guests up on stage having a go. Big karaoke energy, three white "I Want" chairs out under the red lights, the audience cheering each turn. Great fun.

Back to the theatre after dinner — this time for The Wild Jennys, a proper rock-and-folk band that lit the place up. Red stage, full crowd, a real lift after a quiet morning.

By the end of it the whole theatre was on its feet. Not bad for a sea day.

Out of the theatre and back to the Piazza — our spot for the whole week — for one last cocktail with the live music playing. Mum had a Baileys, a small final indulgence to round it off. And then, eventually, to bed.