Copyright the Times - printed 14 August 2010

If I tell you about a ship whose funnel, instead of the normal fog-horny blast, tinkles the opening bars to When You Wish Upon a Star you will probably cringe. Especially if I add that the same music is a precursor to the rather too frequent Hi-de-Histyle announcements on board.

But let's not judge a ship by its funnel blast... unless you're the type who runs a mile at the mention of Mickey and his gang. Because Disney Cruise Line means just that; you're in the same boat with the cartoon characters.

If you haven't heard of it you're not alone; the company with two ships, and a third to be launched in January, has mostly marketed itself in America until now. Having dipped its toe in the Mediterranean it plans to return there next year, in addition to its Caribbean and American cruises, but next time with more UK customers.

I confess that we are willing guinea pigs to test the waters: me, a closet Disney fan, my four-year-old son Christian, who is running around as if it is Christmas ten times over, and his cousin David, 11, who has thrown away all pretence at being cool.

But as we board the Disney Magic in Barcelona on a cruise that will take us via Gibraltar, Cádiz and Lisbon and back to the UK, there is a moment when I fear that this is too much of a Disney overdose. "Welcome to the Knight family" booms the microphone, and we are clapped on board by what seems to be the entire crew. Panic swells: have we let ourselves in for tackythemed bedrooms that the kids might love but I will hate? Will the food all be Mickeyshaped? Should Disney have stuck to theme parks? After one quick exploration I realise that the ship for 2,700 passengers is upmarket and comfortable, with discreet decor in blues and beiges and only a few Disney touches. Our cabin — spacious and elegant, with a sitting room that can be curtained off and converted into a second bedroom, plus a separate toilet from the bathroom — has little more in the way of Disney branding than a photo of Walt on the wall and discreet Mickey heads around the bottom of the bedside lamps. On deck it's not quite so discreet — above the Goofy pool is a giant screen playing Disney movies, while another pool is Mickey shaped, with a water slide held by the mouse's hand.

It is here, the next day, that the unmentionable happens. Donald and Daisy came out to play, theboys have made an icecream from the free machine, invented a cocktail of fizzy drinks from the free soda fountains, giggled at the Mickey tattoo that we see on one lady's neck, and jumped in again. They squeal and point.

Poo is in Mickey's pool. I'm not talking Winnie the Pooh but a lump of faecal matter floating menacingly around. Disney efficiency takes over, the lifeguard blows his whistle, the pool is emptied of children and water (and offending object) and cleaned and refilled in a no-fuss operation.
You've got to hand it to Disney — when it does something it does it well. The proof is in the contented families, the little girls dressed up as princesses, the waiters who hand the children crayons and a kid's menu as soon as they sit down to eat (it's not all buffets and fast food — there is a selection of restaurants serving good, if not gourmet, food).

It helps having a cartoon mouse on your side, of course, along with his sidekicks. They pop up everywhere — Goofy goofs around with the kids around the pool, Chip and Dale dance in the lounge and Daisy Duck seems to be constantly getting in and out of the lift, wearing a different outfit every time. And that's without the many scheduled photo opportunities and character breakfasts. We get so much access to the characters — way more than in the Disney theme parks — that both boys get quite blasé about it.

Disney addicts are in their element here, and they're not in short supply. There is the family I meet at the airport who are on their twelfth cruise; Emett, the six-yearold boy who jumps on stage one night to help the magician and tells the audience that he is on his seventh cruise; and a committed hardcore of Disney cruisers who trade badges of characters that they wear like medals. It makes for fascinating people-watching.

Just along the corridor from us, in cabin 7536, is the Lowery family from Phoenix, Arizona, who tout proudly on their door "76 days of magic". I catch up with Rob, Beth and their teenage sons on their 77th day in the Animator's Palate restaurant, a curious place where when you start your meal, the decor is black and white, then gradually coloured videos appear in the picture frames. "We took our first cruise in 1999, just the two of us for our anniversary, and we will come again on our own when the kids have left home," says Rob. "It's not about the characters, it's the service — these guys have the Disney magic."

It's weird but a surprising number of people are here without children, taking advantage of the adults-only pool and restaurant, an excellent spa, and the fact that, unlike other cruise lines, Disney lets you take your own drinks and provides a laundry room where you can wash and dry your clothes for five bucks.

I don't see the point of taking this cruise without kids. Although I'd been wary about whether cruising was compatible with children, I now see every point in doing it.

Cruising is an easy way to show children the sights, so we head ashore at the ports — although we opt for DIY sightseeing as the set excursions don't seem particularly imaginative.

We return content that we have done our cultural bit and can indulge in wall-to-wall Disney entertainment. We watch Disney shows in the theatre, see new releases in the cinema and, at the Pirates of the Caribbean deck party, admire Mickey zip-wiring between the ship's funnels as fireworks go off (Disney Cruise Line is the only one authorised to have fireworks at sea). And we still haven't reached Disney overload, which is lucky as Mickey and Co pop up at the excellent kids' clubs.

On our penultimate day we discover another kids' club for older children. There's a replica of the ship's bridge, where David tries a sophisticated boat simulator. "Oh, I forgot the funnel," he mutters, reaching for a button. Before he presses it, I know what I'm about to hear. This time, though, as When You Wish Upon a Star tinkles out, I smile rather than cringe. I'm getting used to it.
Disney magic

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