I have just escaped the laundry room where I have been making small inroads with the ridiculous amount of clothing I took aboard the Queen Victoria for eleven days. Oh, the bag came back from the dry cleaners today bearing even more clothes. They are much faster than I, but then they ARE the professionals, so don't you dare judge my wash/dry skills!
Leaving chores behind let me get back to the Queen Victoria. We met some fab folks while flitting from one spot to another and I want to recognize the evening dining companions assigned to our table, but more about them later.
No, today let's gab about how I am pretty certain our assigned table folks had a little word with the Captain and coerced him into extending an invitation for us to dine at his table one evening. There can be no other explanation for it. Those unfortunate kids who drew our names as breaking-bread companions needed a break from our zany selves and who can blame 'em?
So, here I sit like a pretend-lady-out-of-water at the table of the MAIN-STEERING-MAN, Queen Victoria speaking. I did love how midway through the meal the Captain and his wife switched table positions. I shall try this at my next formal dinner.Of course, there could be another reason for the invite. Check out the photo below where I offer directional assistance to the Captain and his crew from our stateroom terrace. A pointing finger is the best navigational device ever invented, don't ya think? Pretty sure El Cap agreed and HAD to spend time with true sea-farers such as the two of us.
As usual, Gaz takes everything in stride and simply observes the world while wearing his stunning tuxedo. 
The ship is loaded to the mast with talent and Chef Mark is right at the top of that heap. He toured us around and in return I offered to host him at our home. He may not be FROM Florida, but he calls it home now, so how difficult would it be for him to hop onto I95 and visit us in West Palm? Yeah, I feel absolutely certain he will be accepting my invitation...who could resist Cheez Whiz on Ritz? Not me and by the glint in his eye, I am convinced Chef will be knocking on our door for some delish delights very soon! More on our tour later.
Chef Mark, the Captain and his crew could not have been more gracious, but again, I don't think they heard about the shenanigans that went down while Gaz and I sat at a little table draped in white linen, while being served English tea and all the trimmings by white-gloved staff. The best? Scones (we were later schooled in the proper pronunciation of that particular word by one of our dining companions from the UK), strawberry jam and the luscious clotted cream. Um, when I splattered a rather large dollop of the jam onto the pristine cloth I think I heard a gasp go 'round the entire Queens Room. Yep, these Bloody Americans are total clods. No more scones for them!
Agreed, I may be less than perfect when it comes to High Tea, but I make a fantastic addition to the Queen Victoria crew. You just can not go wrong when you point a navigational finger while wearing an enormous hat!
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