More Barsetshire Diary (Barsetshire Diaries)
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More Barsetshire Diary
The Continuing Saga of the Gentry
By Lord David Prosser
Author of My Barsetshire Diary and The Queen’s Envoy
Illustrated by Sara Japanwalla
United Kingdom – United States – Australia
Copyright @ 2012, David Prosser
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA FOR THE PRINT EDITION
Title: More Barsetshire Diary: The Continuing Saga of the Gentry
ISBN: 978-1-4477-3442-0
Date of Publication: June 2011
Printed in the United Kingdom
About My Barsetshire Diary:
“The book is a joy to read; the intricate and funny ways in which the characters are portrayed put a smile on your face, especially when described conducting themselves in those typical English sites and period. A must for Angela Thirkell and Anthony Trollope fans.”
Alec Mishory, Art Historian
“An extraordinary new book, combining great charm with biting wit. Life in a small village unfolds in the timeless fashion that unites the great British writers, past and present.”
Gary Morgenstein, Novelist-Playwright
“The book is highly original, but its delightful humor brings to mind a charming glimpse of a character worthy of a P.G. Wodehouse novel, mixed with touches of a mature, but still somewhat innocent Candide.”
Ilil Arbel (From the Introduction)
Books by Lord David Prosser:
My Barsetshire Diary: The Daily Events of the Gentry Recorded for Posterity
The Queen’s Envoy: Extracts from the Oh So Secret Diaries of Lord David
Table of Contents
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
The Four Foot Bear
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Oscar's Gift and the Baron's Lady
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Choosing Curtains
Friday, October 29, 2010
Mayhem at the Sales
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Barefaced Cheek
Sunday, October 31, 2010
An ASBO Waiting to Happen
Monday, November 1, 2010
The Squadron Leader’s Organ
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Edna Visits
Wednesday, November 3, 2010.
Harrison Ford? – No way!
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Interest in the Broach
Friday, November 5, 2010
The Birthday Cake
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Plans in the making
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Triple D visit
Monday, November 8, 2010
The Colonel Calls
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Oh how the soup flies
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
The Toastie Tenors
Thursday, November 11, 2010
The Tuba Player’s solo
Friday, November 12, 2010
Suits you Sir
Saturday November 13, 2010
The Concert
Sunday, November 14, 2010
The Auction
Monday, November 15, 2010
The Presentation
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank the following people for their help in making this book. Believe me, their existence is necessary.
Lady Julia for her constant belief in my abilities.
Count Hermann Fraenkel, Baron Michael Fraenkel , Baron John and Baroness Muriel Caslav for their unstinting support.
Ysabel, Joanna, Karina and my brother Wyn for their hugs that keep me going.
Lis Eastwood for making sure I write sensible English.
Pauline Yudowitz, Yvette de Bono, Lady Victoria Novak and Patricia Carrigan for their kindness.
James Parris, Alan Grobler, Hilary Laviniere, Christian Harmon, Patti Waugh, Kathy Fish and of course the author and playwright Gary Morgenstein for their friendship.
Sara Japanwalla, a brilliant artist and illustrator, for sharing her talent with me for this book.
Lastly but not least. Ilil Arbel, author in her own right and editor supreme for help, encouragement and laughter always at the right times.
To all my friends, family and readers I send thanks for your patience and for waiting.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
The Four Foot Bear
I was woken rudely this morning. At 6.06 am there was a sudden weight on my chest and as I opened my eyes I was faced with, erm well the opposite of the cat's face. He started to press his paws alternately into the area of my bladder and the pressure was building. Without waiting for permission I swung my legs out of bed and hobbled to the toilet.
On my return Oscar had settled himself where I had lain. I resisted the temptation to let him feel a sudden weight on his chest by sitting on him and went for a shower.
Refreshed, I went to the kitchen collecting Oscar's dishes on the way to wash and refill. After doing that I made myself a coffee and went through to the lounge where I heard a beep which indicated a message received on my phone. It was Ysabel saying she wouldn't be over on Sunday as she was going to a baby shower. This is a concept which is gaining popularity in the UK but which I don't understand. Does anyone really host a party to wash a child? We are becoming more American by the minute with that and with the Halloween festivities I see advertised everywhere now. We've even had trick-or-treaters in the past where normally we would have been asked for a penny for the guy to celebrate Guy Fawkes Day on November 5th.
Anyway I digress. Ysabel is not coming. Though my wallet is no doubt relieved I sent her a reply saying I was disappointed but hoped to see her soon.
I made Lady J a coffee and took it through to her, wishing her good morning. Before I could escape she informed me that we would be going to visit the shops in a nearby coastal town when she got up. Filled with dread I said “Yes Dear.”
So, at 9.00 am after the school traffic had cleared we were on our way. It was a forty minute run on a thirty minute journey due to the road works which informed us we were having cables laid to link us to Ireland. Good luck to those who have to lay the North Sea section of it !
We arrived eventually and parked up on the roof of the shopping precinct which was covered with large grade netting presumably to prevent the seagulls from diving to steal hotdogs from anyone eating them in the car park. Pity they hadn't put netting up with small enough holes to prevent the seagulls for covering the cars with the results of their meals. The cars were white spotted.
As the sun was shining and it was only mildly cool I decided to leave my coat in the car and proceed in shirt and jumper. It didn't take me long to realise my mistake as the temperature at the shops level dropped to freezing and left my teeth sounding like a high speed typewriter. I was almost willing to go into the shops. But, first things first, Lady J decided we needed a Latte. We went into the nearest cafe and ordered. It was brought to the table by a young girl who looked disinterested in anything except the music pouring into her ears from the little iPod in her uniform pocket. She was chewing gum with an open mouth and the lattes reached us with plenty in the saucer. It seemed the froth on top went down almost to the bottom covering about half an inch of coffee flavoured liquid. At least it was warming. I w
as glad to leave that place despite the cold.
After that it was into battle. We hit shop after shop adding bag after bag to the load. I hadn't realised until today that we needed four different sizes of picture frames, bath salts, bath oils and soap-on-a-rope. We looked at Christmas trees, slim, fat, with lights and without them and in a variety of colours. Then came the worst, wallpaper samples! I had visions of nights spent stripping without it being followed by fun. I was greatly relieved when Julia told me the samples were to be used as backing paper in a scrapbook she was doing for Mumu. It was to be a kind of This is Your Life in photographs to celebrate her birthday. I was so relieved I took her for a coffee.
We passed one shop that had a display of various wooden sculptures like butlers with a tray, but also with displays of swords and knives. I suggested we went in to have a look for a novelty gift for Mumu's birthday whereas in reality I just wanted to look at the knives. No, I wasn't contemplating murder. I wanted a Skean Dubh to wear with my kilt and was lucky enough to find something suitable. Unluckily, so was Lady J who found a four foot bear, inside which rested shelves to take CD's. Leaving the shop she offered to carry the knife for me, I got to carry Bruin.
We headed back to the car and found it looking like a Dalmatian. I'm guessing the seagulls weren't impressed by my earlier thoughts.
Leaving town we found a carwash and cleaned off the worst of the mess with a hose before running the car through the wash. I got drenched when my window was found to be opened a touch which I quickly remedied. We decided to stop at Flutterbys for lunch as it was on the route home. I had to endure hugs from all the staff which pressed my soggy clothing against my frozen skin.
They knew of my recent visit to the hospital and I had to pray they hadn't heard I was now on a diet... they had, as was proved by the portion of lunch on my plate, even less than Lady J who only eats like a sparrow anyway. She tucked into hers with relish and finished up with an Eton Mess for a sweet while I sat with just a coffee.
On leaving I managed to avoid the hugging line but was pulled up short and left feeling kindly disposed towards them all by the calls of “Come back soon.”
At home again we unpacked the car and carried all the shopping inside. I was quick to say “I'm not wrapping this one!” when it came to the bear.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Oscar's Gift and the Baron's Lady
I woke at 6.00 am. There was no pressure on my chest, no damp nose on my eyelids, nothing attacking my feet and yet I had woken so early. It took me a few seconds to realise that I was actually awake because I was expecting the pressure, the damp or the attack etc. I thought I must be suffering from some form of Stockholm Syndrome where the captive becomes dependant upon and would do anything for the captor. Where was the little grey blighter?
I got up, expecting at any moment to hear the miaow telling me he was hungry, but I heard nothing. I cleaned and refilled his dishes anyway and then made myself a pot of tea for a change.
By 8.00 am I had been for a shower, got dressed and woken Lady J with her usual bucket of coffee, which in order not to spill it I'd rolled along on a hostess trolley. That's not really true but her cup is so large it should be true.
There was still no sign of Oscar.
It was 8.30 am when he finally showed up. We always left a window open to accommodate his comings and goings but he was usually as regular as clockwork.
Today as he returned we heard a series of very muffled mews as though he was wearing a gag, a sound we had heard before when he had managed to wrap one of Lady J's bras round his head after falling into the laundry basket.
Anyway, we heard the sounds of his approach and then my heart dropped to my stomach as he sauntered into view and before I could take action, dropped a dead mouse at my feet. Honoured as I was, it still bothered me when he caught mice or birds when I felt he was well enough fed. Ridiculous, but I couldn't help it.
Before I was able to draw another breath, the mouse moved. It shot across the room and ran behind the other settee, rapidly followed by Oscar who came to a sudden halt when he found he couldn't fit into the space. Lady J moved faster than me. She grabbed Oscar who was now miaowing with frustration and unceremoniously dumped him outside the lounge and shut the door firmly. This clever move by her left me to deal with the mouse side of the situation. I got up from my seat, crossed the room and carefully pulled the settee away from the wall. There was the mouse cowering against the skirting board. Carefully and slowly I got to my knees and reached out for him. Unusually successful I managed to get him in my cupped hands and climbing again to my feet I walked to the lounge door which Lady J opened for me and then to the front door where she did the same. She had a good grip, I think it's called a choke hold, on Oscar so I gently placed the mouse on the ground....right at the feet of the newly arrived post woman who squealed as she saw it. The little beggar took this opportunity to bite me and run, that is the mouse bit me not the post woman.
I caught myself before I swore, looked up, stood up and wished her good morning.
“Scared me there for a minute my Lord, I'm none too keen on mice. Got them in the house have you?” she asked drily, thrusting the day's post into my hand.
“Only when the cat is in gift mode” I replied, knowing that without an explanation, by the time she reached the next house my one mouse would become an infestation. She's a wonderful woman but loves to embellish an ordinary tale to make it an interesting one. I never used to understand how that happened.
Safely back in the house with the door shut to prevent a now disgusted Oscar from running after his unwelcome gift, I passed the mail to Lady J and went in search of some antiseptic cream and a plaster to deal with my gaping wound. Well, where the mouse had drawn blood anyway.
By 9.00 am we were settled again and Julia had made us a coffee.
Oscar was fed and lying on the settee next to her, fast asleep and making little whimpering sounds while twitching as he no doubt relived the great hunt in his dreams. Julia herself was crafting. You can always tell when this is happening as you have to step carefully over all the debris on the floor and pray your clothes aren't covered in glitter which always seems to be around whether it's in use or not. Today there were rolled samples of wallpaper everywhere and I was conscious of the constant snip snip of scissors at work.
“Think I'll just go and check my emails my Dear” I said.
There was no response and I realised she was in the depths of concentration. I left the room, careful not to tread on anything on the obstacle course and went to my computer. There were twenty three messages. Two were from my new, self declared friend Psychic Journeyings who suggested I got in touch without delay to learn what Halloween had in store for me. My guess was a lighter wallet if I replied and had to pay for her advice. I had a few messages from various firms who wanted me to accept 250 free business cards where the price of postage was greater than the cost of printing the cards would have been. There were some other adverts easily dealt with by sending them to the bin and then there was a message from a friend in America asking if we could put her up next year if she came to visit. I answered that we'd be delighted knowing that Lady J would approve of this. Finally I reached the last message which was from Baron Fraenkel, Michael.
“David old chap” it started, “ just wanted to let you know that I'll be there by 11.00 am. I didn't want to ring too early in case I woke you, and I'll be on my way in a few minutes so can't ring later.”
I was a little perplexed as I had no idea Michael was coming today, but perhaps Lady J knew and had forgotten to mention it. There was no point in replying to the message as it was already past ten and he'd be well on his way.
I closed down the computer and was on my way to the lounge when there was a knock at the door. Somehow Grizelda got there before me despite being further away from it.
“My Lord, it's The Baron Fraenkel” she said as he bounced in and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Good morning beautiful,” he s
aid.
“How kind,” I answered, “and good morning to you too.”
Grizelda glowered at me, glowed at Michael, and retreated back to her domain, no doubt to put the kettle on for him. I'd be lucky if the worst she did was “accidentally” forget to put sugar in my coffee after that.
“Hello David, I made better time than I thought,” said Michael.
“Only because you refuse to accept there are any speed limits, I'll bet,” I responded hugging him, “to what do we owe this honour?”
“What, I can't just come and see my favourite people now?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Come on and I'll see if Grizelda is making you a coffee,” I told him, “but be careful of the bomb site in the lounge as Julia is crafting.”
“Oh Lord” he said following me.
The debris was thick on the floor as we entered the lounge and the scissors had speeded up considerably.
“ Morning Julia” said Michael causing her to look up.
“Damn” she said slicing through a picture, “hello Michael, I didn’t know we were expecting you.”