There are many ways to know that you are finally on holiday. The one that feels most palpable (to me) is finding myself at 8.15 in the morning, hovering in front of a cruise ship buffet with a plate in my hand, deciding whether today I'm the kind of person who has both pancakes and a fry up on the same plate.

Buffet breakfast at sea looks simple. It is not. Handled badly it becomes a lukewarm mountain of regret. Handled well it is a very enjoyable three course performance involving eggs, timing and the ability to ignore what everyone else is doing with their plates.

Here's my guide to giving the most important meal of the day some structure.

Act one: the responsible adult course

Your first plate sets the tone. This is not the moment to panic and grab everything within tongs’ reach. The goal is to arrive at the hot food still capable of rational thought.

Begin light. Cereal, fruit, yoghurt if you are feeling virtuous, maybe a small pastry if you are not. Most ships have some kind of build your own yoghurt situation with seeds, nuts and honey. This is perfect, because it feels wholesome, looks photogenic and buys you a little time to assess the rest of what's on offer.

Sit down, eat slowly, watch the room. Note where the omelette station is, how long the queue is for pancakes, and which section appears to be attracting people who do not understand the concept of personal space. This reconnaissance will serve you well later.

Act one is also where you have your first tea or coffee. The ship coffee may never quite match the artisan flat white you have trained on at home, but it will at least wake you up sufficiently to take on your next course...

Act two: the hot food main event

Now you are warmed up and you know where everything lives, it is time for the serious choices. Plate two is where the buffet becomes either an elegant tasting menu or a chaotic heap of slop.

If you like eggs and you see an omelette station, go there first. Made to order eggs are one of the quiet joys of cruising and they are usually much better fresh. Order something simple so the line keeps moving (my pick is mushrooms, onions and some diced pepper). This is not the time to request a twelve ingredient bespoke masterpiece that requires the chef to go on a quest to the galley for goat’s cheese.

While the omelette situation resolves itself, you can add the supporting acts. A bit of bacon, one or two sausages, perhaps some grilled tomatoes to prove you are still faintly attached to vitamins. Resist the urge to create a wall of toast beneath it all. Toast may be infinite, but your appetite is not.

The key here is choosing a theme. If you are doing a classic cooked breakfast, commit. If you decide this is the morning for pancakes and maple syrup, do that properly rather than perching a single sad pancake on the edge of your fry up. Buffets encourage your worst tiny impulses. Resist them. You are aiming for a composed plate, not a cry for help.

Act three: the pastry curtain call

You have been sensible. You have eaten some fruit, you have respected the omelette station, you have not built a tower of bacon. It is now time for the final act.

Act three is the small indulgent plate that functions as dessert. A croissant, a danish, perhaps a slice of banana bread if the gods of catering are smiling upon you. This is your chance to try the thing you eyed up at the start without committing an entire breakfast to it.

Pair it with a fresh coffee and, if you are feeling entirely unburdened by restraint, some fruit juice. This is the loafing stage of breakfast. You sit, you poke at a pastry, you look out at the sea and have a small moment of appreciation for the fact that the day ahead contains neither washing up nor emails.

Strategy: order, timing and avoiding the scrum

The order above is partly about digestion and partly about logistics. Starting light stops you from overloading the first plate. Doing the hot food in one focused sweep keeps everything warm. Ending with pastries turns the whole thing into a small ceremony rather than a random act of foraging.

There are also one or two structural tricks. If you can bear it, arrive ten or fifteen minutes earlier than peak time. You will recognise peak time because everyone else has had the same idea about a quick breakfast before an early tour and is standing in a slow moving line, gazing wistfully at the scrambled eggs.

If you are not a fan of the morning scrum, most ships have at least one quieter alternative. On many ocean lines the main dining room offers a table service breakfast with a menu that includes most of the buffet favourites but without the jostling or the balancing act with multiple plates. Some ships also have a smaller café or secondary venue that does a continental spread for people who like calm more than choice.

Knowing when to stop

The subtle art of the buffet breakfast is less about how much you can eat and more about how well you can ignore the voice that says “but it is free, you should have more”. Technically it is not free, you have already paid for it with your cruise fare, and you are under no legal or moral obligation to make sure the ship gets a poor deal.

A successful buffet breakfast is one where you leave the room pleasantly full, pleased with your omelette choices and still capable of walking around port without wishing you had brought different trousers.

Once you have mastered the three act structure, you may even find that the buffet becomes less of a daily assault course and more of a gentle ritual. Fruit, eggs, pastry, coffee, sea. A restrained sort of decadence, repeated as often as your itinerary allows.