The fussy service in the Grand Pacific is somewhat of a disguise for rigid portion control. Nothing was at the table. Milk is poured into your tea for you; the hot water is brought too early to be truly useful for tea making when they have to search for a regular teabag whilst the tea box is full of Raspberry & Grapefruit or somesuch.
Salt and pepper are dispensed for you over your breakfast and, never imagining that you might want to eat your rather limp wheat toast with your eggs they advance to dispense a predetermined amount of marmalade onto your side plate and have to be fought off.
The corned beef hash, a potential favourite of mine, was less than hearty and a disappointment.
Tomorrow, we’ll be heading for the self-service and certainty of portion size.
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