Once we reached Uncle Theo's home, I was immediately dragged off by Uncle Theo's driver and forced to endure having several buckets of hot water dumped on me and being scrubbed with lye.
After being given a rather unfashionable set of garments appearing to belong to a much larger man, the clothes that I was wearing were burned in a barrel (despite my protests, I was quite fond of that vest) and I was deemed appropriate for entering the house, where Mrs Uncle Theo (I didn't catch her name) and an seemingly endless parade of Simon's siblings made my somewhat unwilling acquaintance.
Mrs Uncle Theo mumbled something about supper being almost ready. My stomach grumbled in appreciation and I followed her and her numerous and belligerent brood into the dining room.
With the exception of "pass the salt please" and "Mummy! Joseph is kicking me!", supper was a blessedly silent affair as we masticated our food, until the dishes were cleared away.
I delicately patted my lips with my napkin and murmured my appreciation of the food. As I was starting to ask where the nearest pub was, Uncle Theo abruptly (and rather rudely) interrupted me.
"Phineas, you're a drunken, dissolute man with no real purpose. Do you know what you need?"
"A wealthy lady with a castle? A well stocked wine cellar? A unicorn??"
"Don't be daft! You need a job! A purpose! Phineas, I'm offering you a chance to come and work for me. What do you say?"
Everything went black at that moment.
I awoke with a start as the maid waved some smelling salts under my nose.
"A job??? A JOB???? !!! ARE YOU MAD???" I shrieked...dear reader, I am not ashamed to say that I shrieked. "I AM A POET!!! A MAN ABOUT TOWN! A BON VIVANT!!! BON VIVANTS DO NOT HAVE JOBS!!! WHAT IS DIFFICULT TO UNDERSTAND ABOUT THAT??"
Apparently this outburst caused Mrs. Uncle Theo to faint, colliding to the floor in a heap. The maid yanked the smelling salts away and rushed to aid her mistress while Uncle Theo turned several shades of red and purple, swore loudly and called me many names, none of which I cannot repeat here, while Mrs Uncle Theo was hauled off to her bed. Needless to say, supper was ruined.
Afterwards, I was politely offered a ticket on the first ship back to Caledon. The following morning, I was marched by two rather gruff gentlemen up the gangplank to the ship berthed in the harbor, who both waited on the dock until they were certain the boat had left and I was on it.
My journey back to Caledon was considerably less eventful, unless you count the time I was confined to my cabin for "frightening" a group of maiden aunts with my interpretive dancing. But that's a story for another time, dear readers.
Tuesday, August 10
Uncle Theo is generally unpleasant (Part 5)
In rather short time I found myself bundled into a car with Uncle Theo, the insufferable brat Simon and Uncle Theo's rather large and imposing driver. Feeling very much as if being arrested by New York's finest might actually have been a preferable outcome to this, I stared bleakly out the window as we made our way down Broadway.
Uncle Theo's eyes bored into me like two tiny grey coloured marbles, capable of ....boring into things. I was greatly rattled and in need of some sort of..... refreshment, but I feared that wasn't going to be a possibility.
I heard a sound like a elephant with indigestion. Uncle Theo was clearing his throat in prepartion for my continued inquisition.
"Phineas, you've not answered me. How on earth did you come to be in New York?"
This was accompanied by a pinch from the appalling young Simon.
"Ouch! Stop that!!"
"Simon, don't pinch your cousin. It's not polite. Besides, we don't know where he's been and we all know how much you hate having to get a shot."
"Sorry Daddy."
I sighed heavily and dramatically, attempting to look as wounded and unthreatening as possible.
"Phineas, you really are an impossible creature." Uncle Theo muttered to no one in particular.
"Fine, Uncle Theo if you must know...this was all some sort of dreadful ....accident."
A rather loud and unpleasant noise emitted from Uncle Theo..apparently his version of a guffaw.
"Accident? How in the hell do you accidentally travel across the Atlantic??!" Uncle Theo began shaking with laughter at my tragedy. The driver smirked and Simon stared at me as if I were quite mad indeed.
"It was most certainly not funny at all...it was all quite traumatic!! I simply fell asleep....in a crate....and awoke in this...strange and barbaric land!!!" I swooned a bit, just to demonstrate the sheer horridness of it all and was met with ..even more.laughter. I crossed my arms across my chest and glared at them as stonily and imposingly as I could manage, given that I had spent the night in Central Park and random twigs and leaves were sticking out from my hair at jaunty angles.
To be continued...
Uncle Theo's eyes bored into me like two tiny grey coloured marbles, capable of ....boring into things. I was greatly rattled and in need of some sort of..... refreshment, but I feared that wasn't going to be a possibility.
I heard a sound like a elephant with indigestion. Uncle Theo was clearing his throat in prepartion for my continued inquisition.
"Phineas, you've not answered me. How on earth did you come to be in New York?"
This was accompanied by a pinch from the appalling young Simon.
"Ouch! Stop that!!"
"Simon, don't pinch your cousin. It's not polite. Besides, we don't know where he's been and we all know how much you hate having to get a shot."
"Sorry Daddy."
I sighed heavily and dramatically, attempting to look as wounded and unthreatening as possible.
"Phineas, you really are an impossible creature." Uncle Theo muttered to no one in particular.
"Fine, Uncle Theo if you must know...this was all some sort of dreadful ....accident."
A rather loud and unpleasant noise emitted from Uncle Theo..apparently his version of a guffaw.
"Accident? How in the hell do you accidentally travel across the Atlantic??!" Uncle Theo began shaking with laughter at my tragedy. The driver smirked and Simon stared at me as if I were quite mad indeed.
"It was most certainly not funny at all...it was all quite traumatic!! I simply fell asleep....in a crate....and awoke in this...strange and barbaric land!!!" I swooned a bit, just to demonstrate the sheer horridness of it all and was met with ..even more.laughter. I crossed my arms across my chest and glared at them as stonily and imposingly as I could manage, given that I had spent the night in Central Park and random twigs and leaves were sticking out from my hair at jaunty angles.
To be continued...
Wednesday, February 24
Part 4: Uncle Theo appears
When last we left, I was being poked with a stick by a horrid little urchin:
http://phineasmatova.blogspot.com/2009/11/it-continuespart-3.html
I stared up...up...the long coat, the thick, cigar clutching fingers, the bristly beard that seemed to radiate displeasure and into the cold, gimlet eyes of ...my Uncle Theo.
http://phineasmatova.blogspot.com/2009/11/it-continuespart-3.html
I stared up...up...the long coat, the thick, cigar clutching fingers, the bristly beard that seemed to radiate displeasure and into the cold, gimlet eyes of ...my Uncle Theo.
I coughed and blinked. "Uncle Theo?" I said just to be on the safe side. It could have very well been an hallucination from the plants I was forced to subsist on while I was hiding from the police.
"Yes, you ass. I am your Uncle Theodore, now get up or I'll let Simon have at you again."
"Simon?"
He affectionately patted the mangy head of the stick wielding urchin who beamed up at him. "Yes Simon, I'm sad to say this wretch is your cousin." This unleashed another assault from the little devil who now began to thrash me with his stick.
"Get up, Daddy says you haf to"
"Yes, I will ..just stop ...bloody hell!! That hurts!"
"Don't swear in front of the moppet!"
Grumbling darkly, I managed to stand and dust myself off under the combined glares of Uncle Theo and his progeny.
"So Phineas, I believe the question is, how on earth did you get here?"
"So Phineas, I believe the question is, how on earth did you get here?"
Friday, January 22
Another poem
"Tree"
Oh mighty tree
You are not a member of the bourgeoisie
Though you appear to be
inhabited by a bee
but thankfully not a banshee
I like afternoon tea.
Oh mighty tree
You are not a member of the bourgeoisie
Though you appear to be
inhabited by a bee
but thankfully not a banshee
I like afternoon tea.
Thursday, January 21
Happy new year!!
Yes, I realize that it is a few days into the new year. I've been busy!!! Visiting pubs! *hic*
And I started a new poem.
"Barrel"
Brown and stout
There you sit
Not full of trout
Or mince pie.
Still working on the ending. I shall continue my narrative of my New York adventure, but the details are rather fuzzy at the moment. I think there were pickles...
And I started a new poem.
"Barrel"
Brown and stout
There you sit
Not full of trout
Or mince pie.
Still working on the ending. I shall continue my narrative of my New York adventure, but the details are rather fuzzy at the moment. I think there were pickles...
Tuesday, December 8
An Important Announcement
Yes I, Phineas Matova, Man About Town, Poet at Large and General Bon Vivant now shall deliver my thoughts to you in 140 character increments.
http://twitter.com/phineasmatova
http://twitter.com/phineasmatova
Tuesday, November 10
It continues...(part 3)
I awoke with a start. A grubby, shock headed youngster of about four or five was standing nearby, armed with a stick . The ankle biter was poking me in the side with the infernal thing.
"Are you dead mister?"
"I am most certainly not. Stop poking at me"
"Are you sick?"
"No."
"Are you sleeping?"
"I was, until you decided to -OW, I said stop that immediately! I am getting very cross!"
"Are you a hobo?"
"I most certainly am not a hobo. I am Phineas Matova, Man About Town, Poet at Large and apparently a refugee, through no fault of my own, in your fair city."
The brat blinked a couple of times.
"What's a poet at large, mister?"
I sighed heavily and rolled over onto my side.
"You're too young to understand, urchin. Let me sleep"
I closed my eyes with the full intention of meeting Morpheus, but again felt an unwanted object being thrust into my side.
"What is it now, urchin?" I blearily opened my eyes and was met with the rather disapproving gaze of a policeman.
to be continued..
"Are you dead mister?"
"I am most certainly not. Stop poking at me"
"Are you sick?"
"No."
"Are you sleeping?"
"I was, until you decided to -OW, I said stop that immediately! I am getting very cross!"
"Are you a hobo?"
"I most certainly am not a hobo. I am Phineas Matova, Man About Town, Poet at Large and apparently a refugee, through no fault of my own, in your fair city."
The brat blinked a couple of times.
"What's a poet at large, mister?"
I sighed heavily and rolled over onto my side.
"You're too young to understand, urchin. Let me sleep"
I closed my eyes with the full intention of meeting Morpheus, but again felt an unwanted object being thrust into my side.
"What is it now, urchin?" I blearily opened my eyes and was met with the rather disapproving gaze of a policeman.
to be continued..
Friday, September 25
In which I am a fugitive. (again)
Seeing the constables advancing and picturing myself in a tiny cramped Manhattan jail, I took the liberty of the ensuing confusion to flee. After pushing past several grandmothers who shrieked and beat at me with their fists, I managed to lose myself in the crowd.
Having put what I thought was a reasonable distance between myself and the police, I staggered into a dark alleyway, that smelt strongly of cabbage and boiled socks. I leaned against a wall, breathing heavily. (Despite my many attributes, athletics are not my strong point)
I heaved a heavy sigh and reached into my jacket pocket for my flask, which was dangerously close to empty. I swigged as much as I could and then carefully placed my trusty old friend back into my jacket, then managed to dodge a bucket of water that was tossed from one of the windows.
"Excuse me, I happen to be thinking down here, could you cease that activity?" This was met with another waterfall and what sounded like cursing in an unfamilar language. Well, indeed. I huffily left the alleyway in search of a better place for Phineas Matova, Man About Town to contemplate his current circumstances.
After walking for what seemed like hours, I happened upon a large and pleasant park. I was growing weary and there was a rather large, leafy shrub nearby. After checking for hobos, I crawled under it and settled in for a good, long nap.
Having put what I thought was a reasonable distance between myself and the police, I staggered into a dark alleyway, that smelt strongly of cabbage and boiled socks. I leaned against a wall, breathing heavily. (Despite my many attributes, athletics are not my strong point)
I heaved a heavy sigh and reached into my jacket pocket for my flask, which was dangerously close to empty. I swigged as much as I could and then carefully placed my trusty old friend back into my jacket, then managed to dodge a bucket of water that was tossed from one of the windows.
"Excuse me, I happen to be thinking down here, could you cease that activity?" This was met with another waterfall and what sounded like cursing in an unfamilar language. Well, indeed. I huffily left the alleyway in search of a better place for Phineas Matova, Man About Town to contemplate his current circumstances.
After walking for what seemed like hours, I happened upon a large and pleasant park. I was growing weary and there was a rather large, leafy shrub nearby. After checking for hobos, I crawled under it and settled in for a good, long nap.
Friday, August 21
In which I am kidnapped
Yes, Phineas Matova, Man About Town and Poet at Large has returned to Caledon! I know you missed me as much as I missed you, but I was off having adventures.
It all began when one evening in late Spring, I discovered we were out of whiskey. Actually my dear cousin had forgotten to store any in her cellar. She should really get a lock for that cellar. Anyone could just wander in and take up refuge as I did after Auntie threw me out again.
I digress.
I decided to take a stroll, hoping to find a pub nearby. After some wandering, I found one. After spending a enjoyable evening with a bottle of whiskey or..three...I decided to head for home...although at that point I wasn't sure where home was...I found myself walking near Port Caledon, when I had the misfortune to fall asleep in a crate sitting on one of the docks.
It looked quite cosy and comfortable...how was I to know it was to be placed on a boat headed for the blasted United States? I was sleeping. Generally a time when I would assume, one is to be left undisturbed, not packed into a crate, loaded onto a ship, having to ...break out of said crate, be accused of being a stowaway, (I was kidnapped!!) subjected to seasickness, bad food, be made to swab the deck and then be "accidentally" flung overboard by crew members? Luckily we weren't ....that far from shore and besides being a poet, man about town and general bon vivant, I am also an excellent swimmer.
So swim I did....until I reached the shore. Apparently I was in Manhattan, which is what I was told by the police...apparently not that many gentlemen swim in the East River and my arrival caused a great commotion, particularly among the ladies...many of whom fainted.
To be continued...
It all began when one evening in late Spring, I discovered we were out of whiskey. Actually my dear cousin had forgotten to store any in her cellar. She should really get a lock for that cellar. Anyone could just wander in and take up refuge as I did after Auntie threw me out again.
I digress.
I decided to take a stroll, hoping to find a pub nearby. After some wandering, I found one. After spending a enjoyable evening with a bottle of whiskey or..three...I decided to head for home...although at that point I wasn't sure where home was...I found myself walking near Port Caledon, when I had the misfortune to fall asleep in a crate sitting on one of the docks.
It looked quite cosy and comfortable...how was I to know it was to be placed on a boat headed for the blasted United States? I was sleeping. Generally a time when I would assume, one is to be left undisturbed, not packed into a crate, loaded onto a ship, having to ...break out of said crate, be accused of being a stowaway, (I was kidnapped!!) subjected to seasickness, bad food, be made to swab the deck and then be "accidentally" flung overboard by crew members? Luckily we weren't ....that far from shore and besides being a poet, man about town and general bon vivant, I am also an excellent swimmer.
So swim I did....until I reached the shore. Apparently I was in Manhattan, which is what I was told by the police...apparently not that many gentlemen swim in the East River and my arrival caused a great commotion, particularly among the ladies...many of whom fainted.
To be continued...
Sunday, May 10
A portrait of the poet at large/man about town as a young man.
I was on a visit to cousin Violet's home in Stormhold for tea and snapped this while waiting for tea to be prepared. I was going for "slightly byronesque and rumpled, but incredibly handsome poet and man about town" and think I was rather successful in this endevour! Friday, May 1
Greetings gentle readers. I Phineas Matova, Man about Town and Poet at Large..have returned!!!
Returned from what, you may ask...and of course I will answer, you silly gooses. *beams*
This is the time of year when I am... press ganged into accompanying my aunts, uncles and assorted others on a grand tour of the Mediterranean. Meaning, Phineas Matova, usually the dapper gent given to merriments of alll sorts, is required to spend a great deal of time with his...tiresome family.
Long, dreary meals, listening to various uncles and aunt blather about the consistency of their broth and whether noodles are the 'devils work' , whilst I stare miserably into my supper.
Even drearier apres dinner gatherings where one's niece or nephew mercilessly tortures a musical instrument or performs an ennui-inducing pantomime, usually followed by a discussion of the various and sundry maladies that have struck those more advanced in age of the family.
My only relief was the embrace of sweet, merciful sleep and the rare escape with Uncle Jeremiah to nearby drinking establishments.
But thankfully, my familial nightmare is over.... at least until next spring.
Returned from what, you may ask...and of course I will answer, you silly gooses. *beams*
This is the time of year when I am... press ganged into accompanying my aunts, uncles and assorted others on a grand tour of the Mediterranean. Meaning, Phineas Matova, usually the dapper gent given to merriments of alll sorts, is required to spend a great deal of time with his...tiresome family.
Long, dreary meals, listening to various uncles and aunt blather about the consistency of their broth and whether noodles are the 'devils work' , whilst I stare miserably into my supper.
Even drearier apres dinner gatherings where one's niece or nephew mercilessly tortures a musical instrument or performs an ennui-inducing pantomime, usually followed by a discussion of the various and sundry maladies that have struck those more advanced in age of the family.
My only relief was the embrace of sweet, merciful sleep and the rare escape with Uncle Jeremiah to nearby drinking establishments.
But thankfully, my familial nightmare is over.... at least until next spring.
Sunday, January 25
Cupid for hire!
As Valentines day is fast approaching, I Phineas Matova, Man About Town and Poet at Large, would like to offer my services to the ladies of Caledon, New Babbage, Steelhead and other nations in the Realm of the Roses as a Cupid for Hire. For the price of twenty-five linden (you pay me, don't be funny now) I shall arrive (in the charming costume above) and give you a kiss. A kiss that shall no doubt make you quite ...weak in the knees...*smiles*
And remember ladies... please no...arguments or scuffles over me...I know I am incredibly charming and handsome, but there is quite enough of me to go around *wink*
Saturday, January 17
Fiendish Tropical Islands!!
Feeling a bit of the winter...malaise and dreadfully in need of a tropical holiday, I thought that Mondserrat would set me right. The trip began...oddly..as I scrambled out of an escape hatch...
And deposited myself on a beach that seemed to be free of dancing girls and refreshing beverages featuring rum, but was full of shipwreck debris and these fellows.
More 'modern' art I suppose *hic* palm trees, big flowery things.....now this looks more like it. Oooh a kitty. Nice kitty!!!
Me and the nice kitty!
I stumbled upon what appeared to be a teddy bear picnic. The teddies proved to be more irascible than Aunt Juniper even. And armed with Napalm.
After fleeing the cute little homicidal maniacs and checking to see that I was not still on fire, I paused by this curious sign. How silly, what Meteorites???
Oh...that meteorite. Right...
After trudging up more bloody hills, getting stung by bees, I stumbled across a temple of the "Happicat". Thankfully, the temple appears to provide free food, as I had been wandering for hours and had yet to find a pub on this blasted island.
After stumbling around for a few more hours, I chanced upon this wondrous sight!! I shall admit to weeping with joy...
Awakening groggily the next morning under the bar....I continued my journey...filled with a strange dread...or perhaps that was just the cheeseburger...
Ooh! What a shiny and colorful vehicle!! Unfortunately it was filled with shouty and bad tempered aliens...
Giant volcanic kitty!!
Feeling rather rough after several hours of dodging things, running away from things and falling down hills.... and rather in need of a....vacation ...from the tropical island....I managed to flag down a passing fishing vessel, who were kind enough to deposit me at the nearest hospital in Port Caledon.
Thursday, January 1
Happy New Year!!
I hope this finds everyone well..
As the old year departs and the new year creeps in, I find myself reflecting upon the past. Yes, even I, Phineas Matova, Man About Town, Poet at Large and general bon vivant, will stop and reflect upon the past.
Of course, when one has been locked in one's room by one short, irascible, table-tipping auntie, one is rather forced to find a way to occupy one's time. That was the major unfortunate development this year....finding myself under the eagle eye and in the withered talons of one Auntie Juniper. *shudders*
Beyond that disturbing development, it wasn't a bad year. I managed to avoid spending time in either gaol or the sanitorium.
I came close this summer . after being accused of burning my cousins house down (it was the unicorn!!) and only managed to escape by becoming a fugitive in Tanglewood. The life of an outlaw, filled as it was with tinies with pointed sticks and poison ivy, was still preferable to the drudgery that was to await me when Auntie Juniper swooped in and carted me off to her boarding house that smells of boiled cabbage and wet wool.
My hope for this year, as years past is to locate a young lady with a castle who can support - I mean become my lovely blushing bride.
As the old year departs and the new year creeps in, I find myself reflecting upon the past. Yes, even I, Phineas Matova, Man About Town, Poet at Large and general bon vivant, will stop and reflect upon the past.
Of course, when one has been locked in one's room by one short, irascible, table-tipping auntie, one is rather forced to find a way to occupy one's time. That was the major unfortunate development this year....finding myself under the eagle eye and in the withered talons of one Auntie Juniper. *shudders*
Beyond that disturbing development, it wasn't a bad year. I managed to avoid spending time in either gaol or the sanitorium.
I came close this summer . after being accused of burning my cousins house down (it was the unicorn!!) and only managed to escape by becoming a fugitive in Tanglewood. The life of an outlaw, filled as it was with tinies with pointed sticks and poison ivy, was still preferable to the drudgery that was to await me when Auntie Juniper swooped in and carted me off to her boarding house that smells of boiled cabbage and wet wool.
My hope for this year, as years past is to locate a young lady with a castle who can support - I mean become my lovely blushing bride.
Wednesday, December 24
Joyeux Noel!!
Wishing everyone a smashing Christmas. (hic) Auntie dragged me off to cousin Violet's for Christmas dinner this year. To Stormhold...which was awfully snowy and chilly. Better than the boarding house, I suppose. Oh yes, I'm back there, to my great chagrin (hic) There was...an incident...something to do with my flat burning down or something....something like that...
Here is a tintype Auntie took of cousin Violet and myself whilst we were waiting for the goose to cook:
Here is a tintype Auntie took of cousin Violet and myself whilst we were waiting for the goose to cook:
(My cousin promptly mocked my hat. She is simply jealous because she is not nearly as smashing as I am)
Wednesday, November 26
Ooh...Poems!!!
(Written whilst my aunt was cooking Thanksgiving dinner..before she shooed me out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon. Now I am crouching in the garden as my cousin seems to have accidentally locked me out of the house)
"Turkey"
Once you roamed so free
In a field, or wherever it is
that turkeys congregate.
Now you cook in the stove...
Auntie, stop poking me with that
Fine ,I shall get out of the kitchen
I look forward to your golden-brownish
delciousness.
"Turkey"
Once you roamed so free
In a field, or wherever it is
that turkeys congregate.
Now you cook in the stove...
Auntie, stop poking me with that
Fine ,I shall get out of the kitchen
I look forward to your golden-brownish
delciousness.
Tuesday, November 18
A Place to Lay My Charming Minature Top Hat.
It's been an eventul few days. I am now settling into a flat that Auntie arranged for me to rent. It's smaller ...very small actually...and less....poetic than I would have liked, but it will do for the moment.
I'm just glad to be out of that godforsaken boarding house. I swear I had not a minute to myself there...difficult when one is....creating...poems...to be constantly interrupted to come downstairs for meals or for tea...or to escort one's Aunt on her daily constitutional...or all sorts of dreary things.
Granted, it is not the plush setting that I imagined that Phineas Matova, man about town and poet at large, would be dwelling and entertaining in, but I have a table and chairs, a fireplace, and a goodly supply of *peers at a faded label on a large barrel in the corner* whiskey? Whiskey I believe it is. Bought it from a chap in an alley. And that is all I need.
Perhaps I shall take a stroll and make aquaintance of my new neighbors...or perhaps I shall stay in and write poems...Oh I believe I shall do that this evening, with no Aunt to ask me to rub her bunions or ask me to fetch her yarn from behind the sofa or bathe her ancient, dyspeptic cat.
Mr Boots apparently had some sort of ...skin condition.
I'm just glad to be out of that godforsaken boarding house. I swear I had not a minute to myself there...difficult when one is....creating...poems...to be constantly interrupted to come downstairs for meals or for tea...or to escort one's Aunt on her daily constitutional...or all sorts of dreary things.
Granted, it is not the plush setting that I imagined that Phineas Matova, man about town and poet at large, would be dwelling and entertaining in, but I have a table and chairs, a fireplace, and a goodly supply of *peers at a faded label on a large barrel in the corner* whiskey? Whiskey I believe it is. Bought it from a chap in an alley. And that is all I need.
Perhaps I shall take a stroll and make aquaintance of my new neighbors...or perhaps I shall stay in and write poems...Oh I believe I shall do that this evening, with no Aunt to ask me to rub her bunions or ask me to fetch her yarn from behind the sofa or bathe her ancient, dyspeptic cat.
Mr Boots apparently had some sort of ...skin condition.
Thursday, November 13
I was feeling...in need of a new outfit, so I purchased this ensemble. I think the hat lends quite a dashing touch, no? My cousin seemed quite taken indeed by it, as she began to clutch her hankie to her face and laugh in an hysterical fashion. Poor thing, she seems to get these terrible fits when I am about...
Sunday, October 5
As a reward for good behavior (not frightening her other boarders for a week, not setting the boarding house alight, not mentioning the unicorn, not 'getting a snoot full' as she calls it...difficult when there are no pubs within walking distance..) Auntie accompanied me on a visit to Caledon, where we first visited cousin Violet for tea.
I believe she has mostly put that unfortunate incident of her home burning to the ground (the unicorn is still at large...do not look at me like that) and seems to be settling well into her life in Stormhold. I did notice she removed all sharp/pointy objects from the vicinity...(difficult when one is trying to butter one's scone...a spoon simply does not do...besides I don't believe you can injure anyone with a butter knife...harrumph ) After our scones and tea, we bid adieu to my cousin and went off to continue our visit.
We walked through the new Oxbridge University, admiring the buildings and grounds. I managed a few tintypes of the visit:
Oh.... I have control of my camera. Indeed I do. What a handsome devil.
Ah, very Byron-esque here. Moody, sullen and poetic. I was going to write a poem on the spot, since I felt so poetic, but I neglected to bring either paper or pen and then Auntie told me to stop arseing about. Pfft.
Auntie and I strolling the grounds while she tells me yet again the sad, sad story of her first husband, Eustace Winterbottom and his demise at the hands of (or is it paws?) grizzly bears.
Auntie and I prepare to take our leave of Caledon, taken just before she rapped me with her cane for smoking. *grumbles*
I believe she has mostly put that unfortunate incident of her home burning to the ground (the unicorn is still at large...do not look at me like that) and seems to be settling well into her life in Stormhold. I did notice she removed all sharp/pointy objects from the vicinity...(difficult when one is trying to butter one's scone...a spoon simply does not do...besides I don't believe you can injure anyone with a butter knife...harrumph ) After our scones and tea, we bid adieu to my cousin and went off to continue our visit.
We walked through the new Oxbridge University, admiring the buildings and grounds. I managed a few tintypes of the visit:
Oh.... I have control of my camera. Indeed I do. What a handsome devil.
Ah, very Byron-esque here. Moody, sullen and poetic. I was going to write a poem on the spot, since I felt so poetic, but I neglected to bring either paper or pen and then Auntie told me to stop arseing about. Pfft.
Auntie and I strolling the grounds while she tells me yet again the sad, sad story of her first husband, Eustace Winterbottom and his demise at the hands of (or is it paws?) grizzly bears.
Auntie and I prepare to take our leave of Caledon, taken just before she rapped me with her cane for smoking. *grumbles*
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