IT WAS not a happy moment when Noddy with his giant frame and bell- topped hat loomed towards my three-year-old son, Lucien.

The poor child, for whom Noddy had hitherto been a tiny cartoon figure, squealed and buried his face in my shoulder. “Sorry, Noddy,” I said to the Enid Blyton creation. My mother looked at me as if I had gone quite barmy.

Welcome to three generations of Millards, off for a week on the Norwegian fjords aboard Ventura, P&Os newest supercruiser and the largest ship ever built for the British market. Noddy, of course, is a crucial element. “He's just very British,” explained P&O's cruise director, Nigel Travis. “It wouldn't be the same if we had a Disney character.”

While the challenge of attracting three generations of passengers is obviously appealing to P&O, anyone attempting it might find it harder than they anticipate.

Does P&O' s Ventura float a family's boat?

Phil Davies and young family rate the facilities on a Mediterranean cruise aboard Ventura - and finds not all is totally ship shape

• It might be big, but is P&O’s Ventura any good?

Cruise from six British ports

This is an island nation, so why fly to the start of a cruise break? London, Newcastle, Liverpool, Harwich, Oban and Dover feature

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• Does P&O' s Ventura float a family's boat?

Would my four children, aged between 3 and 10, find sailing on the North Sea stimulating? Would they be sick? Would my husband, a fitness nut horrified by the overeating connected with cruising, enjoy himself? Furthermore, could I satisfactorily bolt on my parents, who are in their late seventies and not accustomed to sailing in such a colossal enterprise?

After we had recovered from Noddy, we set off to locate our cabins. Ventura is so utterly giant that she has colour-coded carpets to help guests to navigate the corridors. Once we found them, the cabins were quite calming, with real art on the walls and generous balconies on most of the outside cabins.

As Ventura heaved her way out of Southampton, I began the job of working out what was going to suit whom, and when. I directed Mr Millard to the gym and “a quiet deckchair”. I sent the older children to deck 19 to sign up for bungee jumping with Cirque Ventura. The younger lot were carried (yelling) to the “Toybox” crèche on deck 16, where the toys, computers, climbing frame and a phalanx of kindly looking women, also known as the Youth Crew, calmed them down immediately.

There is no question that P&O has sorted out the children's end of cruising, with an active programme for kids aged from 2 to 17, and not a single moment of the day unaccounted for. Frankly, you could wave goodbye to your children for the entire trip if you felt like it, since the enthusiastic Youth Crew seemed only too happy to look after their young charges with contests, feeding opportunities and even sleepover video parties.

The children were very satisfied. Occasionally, while I was sorting out Mr Millard's spinning session or running, map in hand, to collect my parents for lunch, I would meet my offspring around the ship. The older two might be en route to the bungee jumping, the five-year-old taking part in a treasure hunt, while Lucien could be spotted walking down the runway-length corridors with the rest of his group, mournfully holding on to what looked like a washing line (actually, a “magic string”) and following the dread figure of Noddy.

Meanwhile, I booked my parents into the Oasis Spa for a back massage. “Would they like to harmonise the chakras of the body with our polished-crystal massage?” said the receptionist “Or have a Polynesian ritual on their feet?” Er, I don't think so. A brisk neck, back and shoulder massage for £33 was more like it, and relaxed my parents so fundamentally that they were both knocked out for the entire afternoon.

Which was just as well. The diversions on board Ventura are so numinous that they are virtually paralysing. Take eating, a popular cruising pursuit at any time, but here provided for at an almost fanatic level. After the children had eaten supper at the 24-hour buffet, we adults could have tapas at the Ramblas bar, pay a surcharge to go to Marco Pierre White's Italian restaurant or the “Pan-Asian” restaurant East, or go to our allocated dining area, a room with a carpeted footprint equal to the ballroom at the Dorchester.

The Thai food in East was heavenly, Marco's gaff had fresh, delicious Italian bread and proper virgin olive oil, while the largely Indian kitchen staff knocked out authentic dishes at our main dining room. “These curries are fantastic,” said Mr Millard, who had one every day.

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