Madam emerged, dressed, and expressed a desire for rest.
I set off with pen and notebook thinking that there'd be space in the Club Car and I'd continue composing without seeming too unsociable.
After all, there'd been no one in evidence fifteen minutes before. It's remarkable how quickly things change.
I arrived to find all seating occupied except for a stool near the bar, and it was apparent that solitary scribbling was setting the scrivener apart from the rest of the population.
I gave up and looked around to discover that the mist had closed in and turned into fog.
It was not quite your pea-souper, but enough to prompt the hospitality manager to remark that it was something she hadn't experienced on this leg of the journey before.
Up to this point, we'd been sitting in the cabin till the meal call came.
But it seemed gathering in the Club Car was the standard modus operandi so I wandered back to the cabin to suggest that Madam might care to join the crowd.
She did, but the joining lasted all of ninety seconds before the chime came and we were off to be seated for breakfast.