IT sounds strange in retrospect, but I confess to having doubts about this trip. On the one hand, it was six days in the middle of nowhere, thousands of miles from the nearest civilisation and no chance of escape. On the other hand, it was the QE2...

Until the launch of the Queen Mary 2 earlier this year, the Queen Elizabeth 2 - note it's 2, not II, as it's the second ship called Queen Elizabeth, and is not named after our present monarch - was the largest passenger liner in the world. It's still pretty impressive, though, weighing in at 70,000 tons.

The arrival of her big sister means QE2 is no longer plying the transatlantic route on a regular basis, indeed, ours was one of its last New York-Southampton crossings. Instead, QM2 gets to do the most glamorous ocean traverse, while QE2 concentrates on round-the-world trips and pottering around Europe with the occasional foray to the Caribbean, but then that doesn't seem such a bad way to head towards retirement.

It may have been around for more than 30 years, but the QE2 still has the power to make you catch your breath. Peacefully reposed at New York docks, its sleek lines and old world style put it in a band apart from the other cruise ships moored nearby, which look like shoeboxes in comparison.

But it's when she gets out into open water that she really comes into her own. Standing on the bow and watching this gigantic metal arrow cut through the water as easily as a spoon in trifle, it's hard not to feel awed by the sheer power and grace. More fascinating than the flames of a roaring fire, the sight of the waves parting at the bow and then brushing the side of the ship is truly humbling.

Before the open water, and those six days in the middle of the ocean, there was the taking leave from New York.

They may be a world-weary lot in the Big Apple, but there was still a sizable crowd to see us off, drawn by the glamour of a proper ship, past the skyscrapers of Manhattan, past the hole left by the World Trade Centre, past Ellis Island, where generations of immigrants were processed before entering the land of the free, and, most jaw-droppingly of all, past the Statue of Liberty. Even without the champagne and band on deck, it would have been a memorable departure.

We left in blazing sunshine, and the following day, our first full day at sea, it was hot enough to sunbathe on deck, with occasional dips into the salt-water, open-air pool, but after that the weather started to close in, and it was then that my anxieties about being trapped at sea came to the fore.

It was not so much the surroundings themselves, more the idea of being trapped on a floating holiday camp, unable to get away from the knobbly knees contests and the interminably cheery Yellowcoats. No ruined cities to amble over, no hills to explore, no shop-filled streets to potter through.

Not that there isn't enough to do on board, of course, the entertainments committee has seen to that. There's needlework groups, painting classes, lectures, quizzes, drama workshops, music recitals - all of which can be a lot of fun, if that's what you're into, although there is a sense of filling time about it all.

But eventually the solution to my problem of how to pass the time dawned on me: if there was nothing to do, it was best to do nothing.

Once you have reconciled yourself to the fact that there isn't somewhere you really ought to be, it becomes not so bad at all not to be there. And so it was that I spent my time, and in the process proved that some people will always construct a routine, whatever their situation.

After breakfast, it was a comfortable chair in one of the many lounges for a spot of reading, with maybe a turn around deck thrown in. A pub quiz preceded lunch, then perhaps a little more reading before tea, before another inspection of the outside of the ship. A trip to the computer room to send emails and then a foray to the sauna and steam-room in the ship's bowels seemed like a good way to prepare for dinner, topped off with a trip to the karaoke, just to watch of course, or maybe a film, before winding down in the bar.

So it may not sound the most fulfilling way to spend a holiday, but once you cast your "must do something" anxieties adrift, it becomes remarkably relaxing.

The ship plays a major role in all this, of course. The surroundings are just so pleasant and comfortable it would be a crime not to just sit and enjoy them. And when you do sit down, the staff are attentive enough to come and ask if you want anything, but unobtrusive enough not to take it as an insult if you decline.

Meals, which give some punctuation to your day, are uniformly high standard, from the blueberry pancakes at breakfast to the five course gourmet dinners, and a special mention to the unmissable cream teas.

The cabins vary from the palatial suites with their own balcony to the bunk-bedded rooms, which are best described as bijou. The QE2 combines the Hilton and Butlins, to cater for every taste and pocket.

It wouldn't be a British institution without its social boundaries. The class of cabin you get determines the restaurant you eat in, from the high-class Queen's Grill to the Lido cafeteria, and as much of your time is spent eating this is more important than it may seem. Although after a few meals of black-tie formality, there's a lot to be said for helping yourself.

Sea legs came fairly easily, although it helped that the crossing was reasonably calm. More difficult was adjusting to being back on dry land - it was at least a week before I stopped listing to port.

But perhaps the most important aid to relaxation lies elsewhere. Whether it's the size of the ship or whether everyone else spent most of the time in their cabins, it's surprisingly easy to escape the 1,000-odd fellow passengers. Not that there was anything wrong with them - indeed, they were perhaps a wider, and therefore more interesting, cross-section than you could ever find anywhere else, from the New York old money to the Blackpool landladies - but sometimes it's nice to get away.

Seven days after setting off from New York, and after a day in Cherbourg, where we departed amid fireworks and wild enthusiasm, we were sailing into Southampton. Turns out it wasn't such an ordeal, after all.

* QE2 cruises start from £319 for three nights in Western Europe, to £9,999 for a 121-day world cruise. Transatlantic crossings on QM2 start from £999. Reservations: 0845 071 0300. Nick Morrison travelled from Darlington to London with GNER. Tickets: 0845 722 5225.