Did I mention we were joined on our voyage by some friends? I highly recommend rounding out a table for four with good company. It makes the people watching much more fun and it doubles or triples the probability of real entertainment—like being asked to leave because you’re having too much fun, but, I digress.
Three of the six evenings on board are formal and each formal night has a theme, the final one of our voyage was dubbed the Ascot Ball.
Hats were an option.
I chose to languish in the spa instead. Alas, when the hat contest rolled around that night, no one in or party had a “proper topper”, as it were. But, never fear, husband-engineer had it figured out.
If it hasn’t occurred to you yet, the British can be a serious people. Decorum, particularly on the QM2, looms like a grand umbrella.
Our coy little party erupts into laughter and suddenly the attention of a senior ships officer is beaded our direction. His eyes narrow, his steps quickly to the scene of the frivolity and delivers a glare that translates somewhere in between “leave now” and “you will go ashore on the next iceberg.”
The vase is replaced to the table and we retreat. I feel like Cornwall, ready to rebel. And what would Cornwall have done?