Six reasons Viking has exceeded expectations

I love a Caribbean cruise, but I've never been much of a fan of cruising. A contradiction? Let me explain.

Aside from the paradisical Maldives, the Caribbean islands are my favourite place in the world. Palm fringed, powdery beaches. Great coral reefs. Sun. Laid-back natives with a party in their soul. European culture spiced with Africa and India. History, with pirates. All with a huge island-to-island variety in a very small space. It's always been too difficult to pick just one, so a cruise ship offers a practical solution: a floating hotel that gets you to a new destination every morning. I've always seen too much time on the ship, and particularly whole days at sea, as a frustrating waste of time. The ship was simply a means to an end.

I was cautiously optimistic that Viking would provide more on-board enjoyment than I'd previously experienced. Taking a close look at the marketing for their ocean cruises, I figured we were in the sweet spot of their target market. But primarily, it was just a way to get my half-Danish, sun-averse husband to the tropics for Christmas.

He's happy, and I'm ecstatic. The Viking Star far exceeded my expectations within the first day. Here are six reasons why.

ONE Small really is beautiful
With seven cruises behind me, I have a fair base for comparison. But all of my experience has been on giants ... Princess or P&O. They're pleasant. But in a side-by-side contest, they're a cheerful mid-market chain beside a Michelin starred restaurant. An industrial Marriott against a bijoux boutique hotel. They all have their merits, but I'm delighting in the relaxed elegance that comes with a smaller ship. You find your bearings much faster. The spaces are more intimate. You feel the swell of the waves more and feel the salt spray on the promenade deck. (This might be a drawback for some, but I adore sailing and have always hated the way large ships disconnect you from the whole experience of being at sea.) You start recognising and bump into other guests more frequently, making the whole experience more convivial.

TWO Viking in more than name
I knew that a Scandinavian ship would make my Copenhagen-bred husband feel at home, but I didn't appreciate just how far the company would weave its roots throughout the experience. Every aspect of the design is unmistakably "Scandi". (Of that, see below.) There's a small but well-curated little museum on Viking culture in "the living room", while the adventures of Thor Heyerdahl dominate the Explorers' lounge. Giant reproductions of the Bayeux tapestry decorate the stairwells, foot-high Lewis chessmen guard the library. The spa has all the proper sauna, steam and cool-down facilities (a snow room!) so beloved in the Nordics, and a staff to whom the husband could speak Danish. The on-board draught beer is Carlsberg, brewed in Copenhagen (I watched him melt into a little puddle of satisfied bliss at that discovery), and they have three different kinds of aquavit ... Danish, Swedish and Norwegian. Several restaurants carry Scandinavian specialities, including pickled herring and the open-faced sandwiches so beloved of the Danes. My "book Scandi" gamble has succeeded beyond my wildest expectations ... the husband is in his spiritual home.

THREE Exquisite modern design
The Viking influence comes to its artistic apogee in the design of the ship's interiors. I'm not a natural fan of Scandinavian design; I've found too many modern interiors in this style to be overly austere and uncomfortable. Whoever designed this ship took all the best of the style ... the clean lines, blonde woods, pale colours, references to the natural world ... and added lashings of comfort, accents of  bright colour and punctuations of surprise. A soundtrack of Northern woodland birds chirps merrily in the public toilets, while cheeky trolls peek from behind the ash tree trunks that decorate the elevator shafts. The sense of pattern is exquisite, from blue-and-white macrame window coverings that channel the Norn's (Viking fates) threads of life and death, to runes cut into dramatic wooden screens to designs in the pool tiles reminiscent of Norwegian sweaters. They've subdivided the ship into a variety of intimate areas; even the main dining room is laid out to evoke the feel of a small restaurant rather than the usual cavernous cruise ship dining room. The spa is as gorgeous as the best land-based retreats, a symphony of cream and slate grey with flooring mimicking pale wood and artificial fireplaces flickering above the pool. There may be palm trees and blazing sun outside, but in here in feels like you're deep in a Norwegian fjord.

FOUR Unapologetically cultured
Viking marketing makes it clear that these are cruises for people who want to learn something while on holiday, and their ship carries through on this promise. The aforementioned Viking display is a wonderful little gem worthy of any museum. Every afternoon a classical trio plays in the main atrium while a large, high-definition screen above them rotates paintings by Edvard Munch, the Norwegian artist who deserves to be known for more than his anxiety-inducing Scream. You can download an app to take you on a tour of the art hung throughout the public spaces. Books aren't just in the official library; multiple public spaces feature elegant shelves stocked with a tempting collection of coffee-table tomes on a wonderful variety of art, culture, geography and world exploration. The onboard entertainment also features a guitarist and pianist, both classically trained. When not live, the recorded music leans towards acoustic jazz. It's not all mellow, however: there are a couple of pop acts delivering a range from the Rat Pack through the Beatles, Motown and '70s soul.) On-board lecturers deliver talks on geology and art. Included tours emphasise local culture and history; the tour guide at Nelson's Dockyard in Antigua told me they love Viking, which delivers to them a much higher proportion of visitors than any other cruise line, who all pay attention and ask intelligent questions. This emphasis naturally self-selects a certain kind of passenger: I doubt any of the other cruises I've been on would have yielded a randomly-assembled pub quiz team debating the wooly wording of the question about the location of the temple of Artemis. Did they mean the obvious one in Ephesus, or one of the many in Greece or Sicily?

FIVE No hard sell
There's no avoiding the fact that Viking is a more expensive than the bigger ships. But you get what you pay for. And those ships aren't always the value they appear. On Princess, it quickly became obvious that they made their margin on the extras, and every cruise became a procession of thinly-veiled hard sells and every staff member tried to peddle drinks, extra trips, photos, upgrades to the better restaurants, etc. Access to the spa is a paid-for privilege on the big ships; it's included here. Nobody tries to push anything on a Viking cruise. You can upgrade your included drinks (house beer or wine at meals) for a comprehensive, all-you-can drink from beverages under $15 a serving for $199 for the cruise. Most passengers do this automatically. Drinks flow liberally. Ice water is provided as you leave the ship. Excursions are there for you to take or leave. The ethos is straightforward: you've paid us already, just let us take care of you and enjoy it.

SIX No children
I am an indulgent godmother and a memorably entertaining auntie. I like kids a lot. But I'm not fond of them on holiday. Princess does a tolerably good job of creating adult spaces where you can find refuge, but their presence changes the atmosphere. "Family friendly" cruises also, inevitably, attract large, multi-generational family groups who travel in boisterous packs. This is good fun if you're part of the group, and incredibly irritating if you're trying to tuck into a good book or enjoy a quiet meal while sitting near them. Our cruise is almost entirely couples. Not all romantic ... I've spotted siblings and friends as well as couples ... but all grown ups, and few groups. The result is a much quieter, sophisticated and relaxing atmosphere. Yes, that does also mean everything skews older. We are, in our early fifties, amongst the younger people on board. But we're not unusual. There's a comfortable minority of the under-60s, and the elders are active. I spotted an '80-something couple dancing with flair to the Beatles medley last night.

Outlaw's is a fish-lover's dream (with a nightmare bill)

Ask the average Brit to name a famous seafood chef, and Rick Stein's name will inevitably top the list. Serious foodies, however, will probably default to his protege Nathan Outlaw.

After learning his trade at several well-known restaurants, he opened his own place and got his first Michelin star at the tender age of 25. He's a frequent guest chef on the BBC's Saturday Kitchen, and his eponymous Cornwall-based flagship holds two Michelin stars. Heading to Fowey for dinner is no simple undertaking, however, so we were excited to hear that he'd opened a place in London.

Outlaw's at The Capital is a small, elegant restaurant tucked into a boutique hotel in a Knightsbridge backstreet near Harrods. In a part of London synonymous with bling, it's a tasteful room done with amber wood paneling, subtle stripes and cream pottery, where a knowledgeable staff serves with quiet efficiency. While there are other things on the menu, the point of this place is seafood and the tasting menu is a fish-lover's dream. Having made the effort to come here, we could hardly do anything else.

The 5-course tasting menu is £85, the matching wine flight £65. That does not include  the copious add-ons like amuse bouche, pre-deserts and petit fours that often come with the chef's menu. These are definitely Knightsbridge prices.

We started with a whisky-cured salmon, presumably prepared in a sous vide to impart its feather-light, melt-in-the-mouth texture. The saffron kohlrabi and horseradish yogurt was hardly noticeable on the side; I could have used a bit more to balance the dish. That was brilliantly matched with a sharp Etna bianco to cut through the richness of the fish. Next came a fillet of brill served beside a deep-fried, crispy oyster. The contrast of flavours and textures was spot on, as was a sauvignon blanc from the Loire.

Moving from classic cooking to the peasant kitchen, out came red-wine braised octopus with beans and seaweed dressing. This was the best take on this tricky-to-cook fish I've ever eaten, the fantasy recipe you want someone to serve you in a big bowl with piles of crusty bread while sitting on a Mediterranean beach. Sadly, it's never this good on holiday. Some clever Spaniards have injected a bit of Riesling into their Albarino to provide a good match here.

Last up was cod in "devilled butter" with brown shrimps and brussels sprouts. The spices elevated what was otherwise a resolutely traditional dish; even so, it was the least impressive of the savoury courses because of its familiarity. It was the wine that made this course memorable. An all-seafood menu is tough for a red wine-lover; this was the course that gave the sommelier a chance to break old pairing traditions, letting the meaty heft of the cod carry a light, fruity Rully (pinot noir).

We added a cheese course (£10 supplement) which, in retrospect, was unexceptional and not needed to round out the menu. The courses might have been small, but they were filling, and the dessert was exceptional. A rich, dark chocolate fondant tart in a marvellously crisp pastry case, accompanied by poached kumquats in syrup and malted milk ice cream. Why isn't this a standardly-available flavour? Magnificent stuff.

This was a beautifully balanced meal bringing in a variety of fish and cooking styles. My only real complaint would be with that cod dish ... the fish itself is so close to brill that the two courses seemed a bit redundant. Though the brill was elevated by the fried oyster, I'd probably have preferred something like shellfish or smoked eel for that second course to get an even wider variety of fish in.

The great danger when eating here is the add-ons. The base tasting menu and wine flight price is standard and manageable for a nice night out. Once you include that cheese course, the glasses of port to go with it, glasses of champagne to start and coffee to finish, we hit an eye watering total. A wonderful special treat, but most definitely not an everyday restaurant.

Wisley's Garden Glow creates astonishing holiday magic

British Christmas decorations have come a long way since my first experience in 1994. Back then, I was bitterly disappointed. I was expecting a magical land of carollers, roasting chestnuts and Dickens. Instead, I got gloomy rain, boring civic decorations with glaring corporate sponsorship and unimpressive shop windows that just promoted product (a long, depressing way from Marshall Field's famous fairy tale windows). Out in suburbia, few people bothered with exterior lights.

How times have changed.

London is magnificent this year, with different shopping districts giving their areas distinctive looks. Regent Street's hovering angels are a work of modern art worth making the trip for all on their own. Most National Trust houses now open at Christmas time to show off their festive decor. Neighbourhoods have embraced the spirit with many houses staging their own illuminations (we even have a decorating contest in our parish). Across the country, cities and parks are staging festivals of light to get people out of the house and push back the winter gloom. 

One of the best in the southeast is at the Royal Horticultural Society Gardens at Wisley.

Lighting designers Jigantics have created installations of oversized, glowing blooms. A field of 20-foot high daffodils here, a row of towering, shimmering tulips there. Bright, white onions the size of garden chimneas dot a black field while enormous water lilies send rippling neon reflections across ponds. Some are even interactive. A line of towering tulips has big buttons at their base, allowing you to shift colours and patterns.

You feel like Alice in a particularly magical wonderland. Or Frodo wandering around Rivendell at night. Or a visitor to the strange forests on that planet in Avatar. You get the idea. It's out of this world.

The installations are complemented by coloured lights artfully installed to show off some of the most striking trees along the route. The colours shift and dance, turning the complex beauty of exposed branches into high art. 

Your route through the gardens is clearly marked by strings of white lights, which lead you to the half-way point of the giant glass house. It glows like a jewel box stuffed with emeralds and sapphires. 

Inside, there's fun for the kids: a giant gingerbread house and a display of the winners of the school Christmas Tree decorating contest. (The thought that's gone into the decorative schemes, and the skill with which these under-10s have made their ornaments gives one great hope for our artistic future.)  The cafe across from the glasshouse is open for dinner and has been expanded with an additional marquee, so you can make a night of it.

For some reason ... rain, still early in the season, 5:30 arrival ... we were almost alone on our walk, which made the experience all the more wonderfully surreal. The gardens keep glowing until 2 January, and they're open until 8pm for this special event. Free admission for RHS members, other adults £11.70 and children £5.85.