Tables prepared white with silver glistening, arranged in twos and fours or more. Waiters and attendant at their stations, patiently wait and watch as we settle to scrutinise the menu for something new and tasty to eat.
Once we start chatting amongst ourselves, casting glances surreptitiously, some critical, most friendly, around the room, the waiters know it is their signal to ask if we would like to order, or if we need more time for contemplation.
Pens poised over small pads of paper, they busily squiggle and scratch away, stopping now and then to advise or repeat the awkward culinary names we failed to catch.
Sommeliers pause to describe wines refined, others quite exotic, taking orders to match the meal you have chosen.
Away they go, attentive, some swinging big trays aloft, going out empty, returning full right to the top.
It's a period of constant action complicated on occasions by the sea's devilish sway and drop.
Catching both passengers and waiters off guard, sending them reeling into complicated balancing displays, which are hard to stop.
Above all this is laughter, together with gentle, quiet attention and a joke or two to take away, as off we go, having had an elegant sufficiency, happy and warmly content.
We send our thanks to the kitchen for our food and our gratitude for not having to do the huge piles of accumulated washing up.
Note:
Written while on a cruise on The Black Prince.
2024 © Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen
Photo: Pixabay License
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