It’s not quite the Caribbean, but Jeremy GATES enjoys his (much cheaper) trip to Rouen in France

The sailaway party, as our gallant ship edged away from Tilbury into the blackness of the Thames Estuary on an autumn evening, was a subdued affair: just me, two couples holding cuppas by an outdoor tea bar and Rudolf Nureyev.

While Rudi, an impressive bronze statue, surveyed the swimming pool with a steely glare, things began to happen. Fireworks exploded high in the sky over Gravesend, and something impressive – is that Southend Pier already? – loomed brightly from the gloom on the Essex bank. Would London Mayor Boris Johnson be so keen to concrete over this historic stretch of water for his wretched airport if he took a cruise on the Marco Polo?

After a stroll around a deserted deck, I joined a gaggle of cruise enthusiasts for pre-dinner cocktails, all gabbling nineteen to the dozen while a pianist tinkled the ivories on a white grand piano.

When we joined second sitting in the Waldorf Restaurant, waiters hovered attentively and so many lights blazed on the Kentish shore that I could have believed I was passing Monaco.

If recent disasters have left people queasy about mighty new superliners, the ageless Marco Polo could be set for an Indian summer.

According to my Berlitz Guide to Cruise Ships, she was designed by the Russians in 1966, initially named the Alexandr Pushkin, and given an “extremely strong” hull to tackle the Leningrad-Montreal run in winter. A 22,000-tonne ice-breaker, in short, with “a deep draft which rides well in unkind sea conditions”. But that is only part of the attraction of a vessel widely seen as the Joan Collins of cruise ships.

There’s a certain art deco charm about the cabins and corridors, and it’s exciting to imagine James Bond clambering up the side while the Russians sailed away from Montreal.

Today, Marco Polo sails from Tilbury, just off the M25 and almost next door to the Dartford Crossing. Our four-day voyage to Rouen and Bruges sailed 100% full, with many passengers happy to travel to Tilbury from the Midlands and the North.

When we returned to our cabin after dinner, our room steward had fashioned our bath towels into animals sitting on the bed, with black stickers representing the eyes. But we couldn’t admire his handiwork for long because the ship heaved with entertainment.

On the dance floor, a troupe leaped about like mad Cossacks and a dazzling blonde played an electric violin while they regained their breath.

Cruise director Richard Sykes wrapped up the show then ran the length of the ship to belt out pop songs from the Sixties in the heaving Scott’s Bar cabaret. It was so packed that waiters wheeled in extra seats and threw open doors to the deck to lessen the risk of suffocation.

Next morning, I reported for exercises on the prom deck before breakfast. Only later did I realise why I was the only volunteer for bend and stretch.

All passengers on Marco Polo are 45-plus, plenty past 60. And they obviously planned to conserve their strength for a knock-out table tennis competition after lunch, contested with such ferocity that a third umpire and TV replays would have come in useful.

By then, of course, Captain Zhukov had swung us smartly into a left turn as we rounded the massive port of Le Havre. As we ventured up the Seine, a new vista took shape.

One moment we were chugging past immaculate villages with terraced houses, shops and sailing clubs. The next, we were surrounded by the green and gold leaves of forests which fill the Normandy landscape.

By mid-afternoon we rounded a bend in the river to confront the towering spires of Rouen Cathedral. We tied up on the river bank and from there it was a brisk 40-minute yomp to the cathedral.

Although it is a massive city, Rouen has the intimate charm of a small town and is easy to explore. Many of the cobbled streets, which shook the horse-drawn cab while Emma Bovary was committing adultery with her lover in Flaubert’s famous novel, remain in place.

That night, we were lucky to dine in the half-timbered private room of La Couronne, the oldest auberge in France where eminent diners signed in before celebrities were invented. If I read their scrawls correctly, they include Jean-Paul Sartre, Princess Grace, Winston Churchill, David Niven and Ingrid Bergman.

As La Couronne opened in 1345, some diners must have grabbed front row seats for the burning of Joan of Arc in the Place du Vieux-Marche in 1431. A simple concrete cross marks the spot.

We chugged back across the Channel overnight, and by breakfast time, we were driving home along a deserted lane in Tilbury, while Marco Polo began her rapid turnaround.

I’m quite a fan of cut-price cruising: the food is passable, the enthusiasm of the crew infectious. Give it a go if you are nervous about splashing too much cash on a glitzy superliner.

TRAVEL FACTS

Jeremy Gates was a guest of Cruise & Maritime Voyages (CMV), which offers 63 cruises from six UK ports in its 2012/3 programme, starting at £75 ex-Tilbury to Hull on May 5. Five-night cruises on Marco Polo ex-Tilbury in October to Rouen, Amsterdam and Antwerp start around £399.

CMV reservations: 0845 430 0274 and www.cruiseandmaritime.com