July 15, 1949
Queen Elizabeth-H. M. S.
Deck D-125

Hist! Chicago has nothing on this little cubbyhole I now call home. The shouting and confetti reached a peak and we set sail. The Elizabeth is quite a little ship. Easier to get lost here than in Marshall Field’s. Elevators that don’t work and winding staircases that go up and never down are the mode of travel. The number one item was a complete tour of the ship—before they made like the army and classified us as to rank. First Class is deluxe and beautiful, Cabin Class is nice and Tourist is livable. Nice people the English—very patient even with Tourist Class questions. Food is fair but plentiful. Can order anything and everything if you so desire. Ten people at our table. An English woman, a Swedish man, a Scotchman and his silent son, a Danish boy who has difficulties with the language and therefore orders whatever I do, and Italian professor from McGill University, and a girl from California. The time is advanced every night from 6 P.M. to midnight—time is fleeting— like crazy. There are two pools—one for First Class and one for Cabin—the poor unventilated unairconditioned Tourists just suffer with only a blower and a fan between them and suffocation. Met a girl from India who has been studying at Columbia. My roomate is a dear! Pushing ninety and wants rest she informed me. Haven’t lost anything yet. Champagne has made it an elite sailing—even on D deck.