I’m back on board the superyacht I live and work on for six months of the year – coffee in hand, back to 5:30 am gym sessions and uniform, and honestly? Loving the routine again.

Life working on a superyacht is equal parts luxury, laundry, and laughing at things that probably aren’t funny on land.

The Scenic 10K Run (feat. Hydration Regrets)

I went for a 10km run Saturday morning because apparently I’m that person now. It was actually so nice – long promenade, nice weather, sea air, people walking their dogs, me pretending I’m in a Lululemon ad.

I felt great the whole way, although my knees started hinting they’d had enough somewhere around kilometre eight. (Anything over 5km is officially classed as a “long run” these days.)

There was also a lot of faffing around taking photos because it was so lovely, so technically it was more of a sightseeing jog. But had I not stopped every five minutes to take a photo, I would’ve definitely run it under an hour.

By the time I got back, I was basically a dehydrated crisp. Every single time I run ten kilometres, I think, “this time I’ll hydrate properly,” and then don’t.

Within an hour, I’ve got a headache that feels like divine punishment. I end up horizontal for the rest of the day, with three litres of water, six hydration tablets, and convincing myself this time I’ve learned my lesson. (I have not.)

Is This My Thirties? (Life Working on a Superyacht Edition)

Speaking of which – I somehow hurt my back yesterday.

Don’t know how, don’t know when, just suddenly realised I was walking around like a Victorian hunchback.

Went to bed fine. Woke up fine. Had a shower fine. Got ready for work… sore.

Out of absolutely nowhere.

Like, did I do my makeup too aggressively? Was it when I tied my hair up? Put my shoes on? Made a coffee? Stood wrong?

Who knows. My body just decided it had had enough.

My roommate actually put her back out a few months ago tying her shoelaces, so apparently that’s all it takes now.

Is this what your thirties are?

One minute you’re thriving, the next you’re out with a sports injury from existing too enthusiastically.

Then my boyfriend – (who is multiple years younger than me, thanks for asking) – was telling me about someone who “looked great for their age.”
I was like, oh really? How old?
“Forty,” he says.
I just stared at him. Because… forty?

That’s what we’re calling old now?

Please.

Forty is glowing skin, Pilates, and matching wine glasses.

Everyone says your forties are amazing – and by everyone, I mean the Kardashians, but still.

Anyway, update since writing this: My back is fine today. Slept with one less pillow last night so maybe that was the issue. I’d been using two pillows all week because, as always, as soon as I get back on the boat after my leave, I immediately catch a cold and start sleeping propped up like I’m recovering from tuberculosis in 1820.

Apparently I can’t win.

Two pillows: back pain. One pillow: pneumonia.

Blow-Drying My Personality

I finally learned how to blow-dry my hair properly with my Shark hairdryer and the barrel brush attachment, and honestly thought I’d unlocked a new level of adulthood. Glossy, bouncy, full-volume energy – I was unstoppable.

Then on Sunday, I rolled one bit wrong and got my hair tangled in it, panicked, and somehow managed to pull the end off the hairdryer. So now it’s slightly wobbly but still doing its best, much like me.

The Rare Planetary Alignment (feat. Two Aperols)

People keep asking if I want to go out, which is fair because last rotation, I basically didn’t.

(Rotation is my work schedule – 2 months onboard, then 2 months leave). However, I was on board for three months straight over summer and did some of those charters that make you forget what sleep feels like.

I got off the boat twice in three months. Twice.

As in two whole times in three months.

Once for a HOD meeting at a beach café.
Once to buy a bottle of water at a beach bar where I sat for an hour and then went back to the boat and continued working.
That was my full social life.

So yesterday one of the girls asked, “So when are we going out for a drink?” and I was like, “I don’t know… I don’t know when I’ll next feel like having a drink. It’ll just happen one day. You just need to be ready.”

It has to be the right mood, the right weather (UV index of at least 5 and minimum 23 degrees), the right time (early afternoon), and the right level of serotonin.

I’m not someone who’ll go out just because everyone else is – if it’s not a hell yeah, it’s a no.

It happens maybe once every few months – that perfect combination of good weather and good mood where I suddenly think, I could really go for an Aperol right now. But it has to be right now.

Immediate action required.

There’s about a one-hour window before the feeling passes and I’m back to wanting to be in bed by 6 pm with a face mask and relaxing piano music.

It’s less “nightlife” and more “climate-dependent cameo.”

My social battery usually dies around the 90-minute mark anyway, and then I’m like, ok, I’m done – time to go home and not speak to anyone for a bit.

So yeah, I can’t plan it – it’s like a planetary alignment.

No warning, no build-up — it just hits me out of nowhere, like, yep, today’s the day for an Aperol.

It could be next week; it could also be next year.

Who knows. I let the Aperol Gods decide.

She’s now permanently on standby, waiting for the signal.

The Great Bauble Misunderstanding 🎄

And in other news – I tried to decorate my office to make it festive. I bought what I thought was a garland with tiny baubles and mini presents attached back from South Africa. Opened the pack and… it’s just tiny loose baubles.

That’s it.

No string, no plan, just sparkly chaos.

I now have 30 tiny baubles rolling around my desk, which I guess just live there forever now.

Cute Crew & Cabin Proposals

The crew I work with are honestly so lovely.

Every mealtime, people drift in and out of the mess saying “bon appétit” to each other – it’s like a constant polite echo chamber and I love it. My team are gems, and my rotational partner (the other Chief Stewardess) is also hilarious.

We sadly never get to work together – when I’m onboard, she’s off, and vice versa – so when we swap out with each other, our handovers basically turn into a 6-hour stand-up show.

It’s meant to be serious, but we spend most of it laughing and wondering why the Captain still trusts us with a department.

We’ve tried to convince him to let us work the same rotation. We even submitted a proposal to turn his big single cabin into a shared one for us – double bunks, a slide, full layout plan – and relocate him into a shared cabin with the Chief Officer.

He said no, but I’m sure he’ll come around to it eventually.

Honestly?

It’s been a great couple of weeks back at work – got some runs in, lots of giggles, mystery back pain, and 30 rogue Christmas baubles. People think life working on a superyacht is all glam, but sometimes it’s just me and my hydration tablets.

Feeling very festive, mostly hydrated, and mildly concerned the universe is lulling me into a false sense of security.

If this made you laugh (or at least made you feel normal by comparison), you’ll love the rest of the Delulu Diaries ↗️.

Or if you’re just here for the boat stuff, Superyacht Life ↗️ has all the behind-the-scenes bits – minus the Aperols.