It's rough today, rain lashing the promenade deck and a Force 9 wind to keep everyone inside.
Dinner is at Todd English restaurant on Deck 8 aft for which you have to pay extra for each course - and it turns out to be a delicious meal. The service is over-attentive: I don't need to be asked if every course is OK when I am obviously tucking in to it. My entree called Todd's Potato Love Letters was exquisite ravioli containing potato and truffle swimming in butter.
We drained our wine bottle to the last drop, a ritual we learned in Europe last year with Bill and Ann then went off to hear a NZ pianist called Carl Doy who is very good.
Todd's Potato Love Letters
getting Bill's drop
draining Bill's drop 
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