I had dinner at Edinburgh's only floating restaurant, and it was like entering a time warp

Not that these acupressure gadgets work, though they probably do provide some support against our condition - psychosomatic swaying.

That’s what we felt, when we visited this luxury boatel, which is moored at Alexandria Dock in Leith, near the mothballed liner, Spirit of Tasmania IV.

Is she moving? Are we rocking? I think it was our imaginations.

Anyway, it’s a thrill to be on board. There’s nothing as romantic as dinner on a boat, unless the more immature one of you keeps making jokes about poop decks.

This destination is looking especially smart, as it recently extended the two AA rosette Lighthouse Restaurant into the stern.

It feels very old school in there, with a colour scheme of purple and red, and a hammered coppery ceiling. The menu, which is two courses for £70, three for £80, sounds traditionally luxurious. It’s very golden-age-of-travel-esque.

I kicked off with the Pole Star Martini (£16.50) which is named after the NV Pole Star lighthouse tender. It was glacial and fruity, with, among other ingredients, Stolichnaya vanilla vodka and passionfruit syrup. There was also a half glass of prosecco on the side, as a chaser to cut through the sweetness.

Our starters included a Gressingham confit duck terrine - pleasant enough, with blobs of foie gras that maybe should’ve been mentioned on the menu, since people have strong feelings about that ingredient. This cold tile came with a dollop of raisin-laced carrot chutney, a slice of toasted brioche and a rather intensely tart bergamot gel.

The whole shebang tasted very retro. It’s been a while since I’ve been served something like this, but I ate a lot of these sorts of starters in the Noughties.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but we liked the langoustine better. It was solo, perched on top of a giant raviolo, like a cormorant on a rock, and the bowl also featured a bisque, a thick parsnip puree and a dollop of caviar. Also, the cardinal points of Neist Point lighthouse had been spelled out in the outer edges of the pasta. It’s a shame that we probably won’t be able to sail there now, since we’ve eaten the directions.

Next up for me was the lemon sole. I wanted this to be good, since it was my late dad’s favourite fish and he once worked as a cruise ship’s doctor, so this was a double tribute.

It was rather lovely. There was a champagne beurre blanc that clung to the fillet, and it came with more accessories than Jenners’ old shoe department.

These included slices of smoked leek that were bound together with strips of nori, to create a decorative disc thingummy. I think that’s the correct cheffy term. Then, there was a rainbow-ish arch of one saffron potato, a mussel, a saffron potato, a mussel, and a saffron potato, like a Circassian circle. You get the jist.

I think there might have been a pictorial concept I wasn’t getting.

It reminded me of when I used to babysit and cut the kids’ carrots into goldfish shapes. Anyway, everything was perfectly fine once I stopped trying to interpret a hidden message.

The Black Isle beef picanha featured a couple of pads of perfect pink beef and we loved the rich Perigourdine sauce. This dish also came with a dollop of nutmeg-y spinach, and a potato fondant, though we weren’t too sold on the slightly wet interior of the mushroom croquette and the large blob of tomato fondue was a bit too ketchup-like and didn’t seem to marry with everything else.

Puddings were so-so.

The Braeburn apple eclair was hardly sweet, with a strangely pulpy texture.

It was topped by rather too solid cubes of Pedro Ximenez jelly, with a scoop of pale green apple sorbet - the best bit - on the side.

There was loads going on with the vanilla panna cotta. It was great on its own, but there was also a slightly medicinal tasting ginger cinnamon crumb, bits of waxy real honeycomb, a waffle-y honeycomb biscuit and its matching biscuity bumble bees, and a scoop of vanilla and honey ice-cream.

You’re sure to find some nibbly bits to enjoy in that sugary bundle. We did.

After our dinner, we had a great time exploring the engine room, browsing the engineers’ logs in one of their swish event rooms and looking down the corridors, where all the cabins are.

I bet this is a very cool place to stay, especially as the staff are all so warm and welcoming.

So, at Fingal, there are ups and downs, just like the relentless motion of the ocean.

Or maybe that was just our imaginations, though you won’t need Sea-Bands, honestly.

www.fingal.co.uk