While the few pictures taken of me wandering around the Costa Fortuna in the oh-so-cool Caribbean last week did not turn out, this formal night shot of me with my handsome partner and lovely mother came out not too badly.



I feel thoroughly underdressed beside those two, but they both wanted me to wear my Keltoi box-pleated Highland Granite kilt, and I do not yet own a kilt jacket other than my Wallace, so I went with that. (You see, Josh, what I'm up against?) So ... be kind. Many on board wore far less formal outfits even on formal nights - the guy at the next table at dinner was wearing an old t-shirt. Still, next time, I'll hope to have a jacket more in keeping with my partner's tuxedo. (And I'll pull my cuffs back - I'd just been showng someone my nifty new cufflinks...)

The kilt did elicit many favorable comments, especially from the crew, even days later, in several languages. Servers in the bars and maids in the hallways told me they loved it. Officers remembered me, and were very friendly. One passenger in military unifom gave a jocular salute as I walked past kilted, and women on the dance floor danced up to me. One woman recited a slightly off-colour poem on a stairway, and a man stopped to ask whether that was my clan tartan, but no one asked what was underneath. No one fondled my bovine sporran, either, but so it goes.