WHATEVER happened to the great British public's ability to cope magnificently in a crisis?

There weren't many stiff upper lips on the cruise ship Aurora this week after a third of passengers caught a two-day tummy bug in a drama that has all the makings of a bad Carry On film.

Those with the infectious virus were, sensibly, told to stay in their cabins. Since they were suffering from vomiting and diarrhoea, they probably weren't fit to do much else anyway.

Now off the ship, they are blubbing and flapping all over the place about the "hell" they have been through. One traumatised man was concerned about how the smell of disinfectant would affect his health.

A distraught father said staff cleaning the ship wore white overalls, which terrified his kids - hardly Nightmare on Elm Street. A female passenger even claimed it was like a "mortuary" on board. Her husband said it was like being in Strangeways prison.

Far more infectious and virulent than the original tummy bug was the feverish imagination and obsession with complaining, followed by an urge to contact a solicitor, which spread rapidly through the cabins.

But then 70-year-old Robert Jackson, from Yarm, stepped off the ship. Calm and composed, he said: "I had a bad stomach for a few days, it was not nice but staff looked after us well. It could have been worse but I'm fine now."

They're made of stern stuff up North.

BACK in Northern Ireland last week, stopping at a village shop, we parked outside a house that had half its front wall blown away. Windows were shattered on both sides of the street.

A bomb had been planted two days earlier by a Republican splinter group because the elderly Catholic couple who lived there had joined a police community liaison group. The next day a friend, a Catholic who runs a photography business, told me he had had to move premises because he was on a hit list following his involvement with the same community group.

When I asked people how they had received the latest talk of historic developments in the peace process, few, predictably, had allowed themselves to share Tony Blair's optimism. "When it came on the news, we just turned over to watch the other side. We've seen it all so many times before," I was told. Once they were just war weary. Now they're peace weary too.

WAS I the only person in Britain selfishly hoping the postal workers would reject all offers and remain off work indefinitely? I know it may be bad news for the economy but it would deliver so many of us from the tiresome chore of sending Christmas cards this year.

IN a caf this week, I asked my eight-year-old if he would collect the cups and saucers for the grown-ups while I brought the tea and other drinks to the table. "What's a saucer?" he said, looking baffled. Of course, we never use them at home but I at least thought he knew what they were. My granny would have been mortified.

CHILDREN as young as five are having lessons in the art of conversation because they watch too much TV and don't talk enough at home. Isn't it their parents who should be going back to school - to learn how to read, talk and play with their children?