ROWING: In the latest instalment of their Transatlantic Diary, rowers Paul Gleeson and Tori Holmes have a right Christmas knees up with 42 Pringles, a few mini-bottles of whiskey, Santa hats and stockings, not forgetting the sharks, flying fish and Coke - it's the real thing!

Paul: The swell around us is enormous today - huge waves coming from all angles. The rough seas are the start of the trade winds which we have been fighting our way towards, but just now it's not easy to make the progress we'd like.

We've been setting what might seem like a good pace, but we want to do better: now we're heading west, and if we can string a good week together we can make real headway with the trades behind us.

Originally we targeted making 50 miles a day, but now we're gunning for at least 40, which would put us on course to reach halfway by mid-January.

We've been setting short-term targets. It's hard when you're battling the swell and getting thrown out of your seat.

Last night I got flung around - we didn't capsize, but I was thinking, oh my God. The boat was right on its edge.

We're set for one milestone today - we will cross over the mark where we have under 2,000 nautical miles to go. With a good run we would hope to reach Antigua in early February.

Tori's dad works in a mine in the far north of Canada - he's a heavy duty mechanic - and his schedule means working a month on and two weeks off, so we'd like to hit a time that suits him.

Tom Holmes - he's known as Garlic - is a big guy with tattoos who works with 800 other guys in this remote mine. He's texted us to tell us they're all following Tori's progress. There are two maids - they keep an eye out for me!

Tori has a bit of a urinary infection, but she's still rowing. She was on the oars a few nights ago when she was hit by a flying fish! She finished her shift and said she had been hit by something. When we looked we found this foot-long fish with wings on it - they open up like the wings on a bat.

One of the other boats was attacked by a shark. The day after we heard about it, our boat seemed to be going a bit slow, so I swam in under to check out whether there were barnacles on the bottom.

I felt really uneasy, because we were in the same vicinity as Team Sun Latte, which had the shark attack. I'd just come up when Tori says: Fish! I jumped in - and there's this little fish the size of my hand.

Christmas was interesting. It's hard. Friends and family are ringing you and texting and you're thinking of what you would be doing if you were there, instead of sitting here eating pasta.

Some of the presents were great. My mother sent Santa hats and stockings with mini-bottles of whiskey, and we got a mini-box of Pringles. We both love crisps, so we literally counted them out so we'd have the same amount each. There were 21, so I said I'd give Tori a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. She said no way; we're breaking it in half. We ended up scrambling around for crumbs!

We had a couple of cans of Coke. It tasted so bloody good. Such a basic thing tasted so good. We've been talking about the first thing we'll eat when we get to Antigua: I'm thinking of fries and cheese. Tori says she wants fresh fruit, and gravy.

Out here even small things make a big difference. Not being rowers, we're only now finding out some things that move the boat faster, like how the very tip of the blade addresses the water as we pull.

It's strange to hear that Ben Fogle and James Cracknell, an Olympic rower, are going to get a penalty for having to break into their ballast water because they had a problem with their water maker. We've had no problems at all after the early days when our water maker broke down.

Tori tells me I have to mention that I burned her - it was an accident at breakfast time, and I dropped the hot food bag on her hip. There's a scar, and she won't let me live it down. I was in the doghouse all day after it.

Luckily enough, we don't actually have fights. There would we nothing you could do - you can hardly slam doors out here. You walk out and you're gone! You have to keep yourself up.

Today I was putting away some food and a wave knocked me over. I thought: it's time to get stuck in again.

You do find yourself shouting at the sea: Feck you, I'll get you back! Being knocked about is no fun. And I find the nights hard. You get up to 13 hours of darkness. Eamonn Kavanagh, who did this is 1997, told us it would be a test of our mental strength. Now we know what he means.

(In an interview with Liam Gorman)

To contribute to the Gleeson/Holmes race text Row to 57252. Each text is worth €2 to Concern.