More Barsetshire Diary (Barsetshire Diaries)

by Lord David Prosser

  I was first home and put the kettle on... it didn't fit (sorry, writers’ whimsy). Lady J who can smell a boiling kettle at 100 yards arrived soon after. I made us coffees and we set to talking of our afternoons. Triple D had apparently told her that she had great expectations from the weekend. “What the Dickens does that mean” I asked and quickly shut up. Triple D had also had furnishing catalogues delivered in preparation of the restoration of Mawdsley so great was her confidence. She wanted to see how near she could get to the original décor. A chance remark about it being all wattle and daub in her day would have resulted in something heavy being thrown at me so I resisted.

  Friday, November 12, 2010

  Suits you Sir

  Oscar's visit this morning was not as successful as he'd hoped and not as painless as I'd hoped. Last night I'd worn an old pair of Ysabel's earmuffs to bed in the hope of not hearing Oscar and I'd also shut the door completely. Then I'd drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep.

  This morning he'd jumped at the handle and his forward motion opened the door so hard that it slammed the inner handle into the wall with force. Even the earmuffs could not protect me from that noise. I sat up in shock at being wakened so violently only for my neck to come into contact with the missile now attempting to land on my stomach. As he no longer had the perfect landing field with my body in an upright position, to prevent himself falling to the floor, Oscar had gripped the nearest thing. As he gripped I howled and tried to turn my head away only for my nose to come into contact with the wall next to my bed.

  With my body twisted he now had chance to drop into my lap which he did as my face was rebounding from contact with the wall, blood issuing from the damaged nose. I quickly packed the nostrils with a tissue and removed the earmuffs which by now were keeping one eye and the back of my head warm, and looked at the clock. 4.10 am! Oscar looked up from my lap and purred. I opened the bedroom window and resisted the urge to help him out with the toe of my slipper. I donned my dressing gown, lit a cigarette and went to make a coffee.

  Did Lady J awaken from the racket you ask? Not a flicker from her, I heard the light snores continue without a break. No wonder Oscar doesn't even bother trying these days.

  Coffee in hand I opened my emails. By the time I'd sorted the chaff from the wheat and answered the rest it was almost 8.00 am and I was ready for another drink. Oscar came back in the window, without any gifts for which I was grateful and settled on my bed. I went to put the kettle on.

  I made a drink for Lady J and myself and sat on the edge of her bed chatting until it was time for me to get ready for the day. In preparation for the concert tomorrow I tried on my dinner suit. It seemed to have shrunk a bit since I last wore it, no doubt something to do with the central eating. Anyway, Lady J suggested a new one was in order after twenty years. Accordingly, by 10.00 am we were in the car heading for town. I put on my favourite CD and was singing along whilst Lady J was driving with a pained expression on her face. No doubt her seat was a little uncomfortable today. I'd had a similar problem recently and found I'd been sitting on some loose horse nuts which surprised me at the time as I didn't know the horse had ever been in the car. I was just finishing the chorus “Have a little patience...” when we drew up. I turned the CD player off and heard Lady J mutter “Thank God” so she must have been pleased to be able to get out of that seat.

  My usual tailor had closed his doors last year and retired. Today we were visiting one I'd heard about somewhere or other. I suggested Lady J went for a coffee while I was fitted out but for some reason she decided to stay with me.

  I looked across the various rails of clothes and found a dinner suit in white but I could sense the disapproval even with my back turned and put it back. Then my eyes alighted on a suit in electric blue. I was just lifting the hanger when I heard “NO!” Followed by “Young man. Could you possibly force yourself away from conversing with your colleague and help His Lordship find a dinner suit?”

  “At your service Ma'am” I heard from another quarter and was approached by a middle aged balding gentleman who placed his hand over my hand that was holding the suit and said “I think not Sir. Sir would be much better off with the standard dinner suit with Sir's colouring.” So saying, he led Sir to a rail of standard suits.

  “Will Sir allow me to take some measurements?” he asked.

  “Sir will” I replied, wondering If it was me he was addressing at all.

  Out came the tape measure, shoulders, neck and chest were measured and sounded OK to me. Then came waist. “38 inches” he said. “Oh no” I said, “your tape must be faulty, I'm only a 36 inch waist.”

  “I think Sir has a good memory for the pleasant past” I heard, “now, inside leg Sir, 32 inches. And which side does Sir dress?”

  “Away from the window and near the wardrobe,” I replied. Two sets of eyes were raised to the heavens.

  “Will Sir try this one?” he asked, passing me a black suit.

  I took it to the changing rooms to try. I had just removed my own trousers when a head came round the curtain. “Does Sir require any help changing?”

  “He does not” I answered, now in the swing of talking in this strange third person way, “Sir has been dressing himself for years.”

  “Ah well, SUIT yourself” he said, which I suspect is a tailors joke.

  I put on the suit and wandered out to where Lady J was sitting. It seemed to fit well but I thought it a little dull.

  “That's fine David,” she said to me, and “we'll take it,” to the salesman.

  “I suggest a new shirt David” she said and back came the tape measure. “16 and a half collar” he said, “would Sir prefer plain white or coloured?”

  “Coloured” I replied at the same time as Lady J responded “Plain white.”

  I left the shop with my new black suit and white shirt paid for. We placed the bags in the car and went for a coffee.

  Over our drinks Lady J informed me that maybe a new dress for herself for the concert would be nice. I readily agreed while wondering how I could excuse myself from going to help her find one as this could be a long job. She astounded me by adding “It will take me half an hour or so to find one but I noticed an antique shop a few doors away. Why don't you amuse yourself there while I'm away? After all, you're no use to me in a dress shop.”

  Needless to say I jumped at the opportunity and after finishing my coffee in double quick time, went for a browse.

  There were some fascinating items there and I was lucky enough to find a nice silver topped Edwardian swagger stick at a reasonable price. I was just paying when Lady J walked in laden with bags and a hat box. “Looks like we've both been successful dear” she said “oh look, isn't that a match for the figurine you already have?”

  Following her finger I saw it was. Last year I'd bought one at the fête only to find it was my own that Lady J had donated. This time it was a true match but I'd just donated my half to the auction. Still, if I bought this and added it to the other, it should make a great price for the pair. I asked the price and nearly fell over when I was told it was only £10 as it was one of a pair and the other was missing making this one practically worthless. I quickly added it to my purchase and Lady J and I left to go home.

  We lunched on home-made soup that Grizelda had prepared and then after as Lady J dealt with the morning’s calls I went off to the garden to find Mellors.

  I was as subtle as I could be when I asked if he was considering leaving us, but he still had a slightly puzzled look on his face when he told me the thought hadn't crossed his mind. He quickly added that a small raise in salary could ensure this and I realised the trap I had made for myself. We settled on a figure and I left him with a glow of satisfaction compared to my puzzlement at how yet again I'd ended up out of pocket.

  Baron Fraenkel skated up soon after as he'd arranged to stay over the weekend for both the concert and the auction.

  He was looking a little dejected as he walked in and I asked what was the m
atter. “Must be losing my touch old son,” he replied. “Saw a fine young thing at the motorway service station this morning, asked her how she liked her eggs in the morning. She just gave me a dirty look and said ‘Unfertilised by you’ before stomping off.”

  Lady J laughed and just said “You should know better at your age Michael.”

  I just smiled and hoped we weren't about to hear his latest flame had gone out already and he was on the prowl for a replacement.

  Luckily she hadn't and he mentioned her a few times this evening. Unfortunately Ilsa was away working for the weekend and couldn't join us.

  We spent a pleasant evening catching up on each other’s news.

  Saturday, November 13, 2010

  The Concert

  Things looked rather grey this morning when I woke. It was probably more to do with the fact that I was viewing the world through Oscar's fur than anything else.

  My breathing was a little worse than usual too, but that was because he was lying across my throat with one leg flung over my chin, alongside my nose and finally culminating in his paw resting between my eyes, fur spread to either side.

  I coughed. Out shot the claws creating a little caste mark on my lower forehead before he jumped off and strolled away.

  The world was still grey but now it was because my clock said it was still not 5.00 am.

  I sat up. The little spots of blood pooled into one and rolled down the bridge of my nose before one solitary drop fell off onto my duvet before I could catch it. I turned the bedside light on and grabbed a tissue to hold back the next drops before they fell and walked to the kitchen with the tissue pasted between my eyes swinging and obstructing my vision. Perhaps I should just have torn a piece off to use.

  There was a quick curse when the antiseptic liquid bit and then I was OK again and ready for a coffee.

  I took it with me to the computer where I answered my mail and sent out a few reminders of tonight’s concert and tomorrow’s auction. Tonight! The thought made me so nervous.

  Back in the lounge it was about 7.00 am when I heard Michael stir.

  Knowing he's as bad as Lady J with his coffee, only he likes the spoon to stand up in the mud that's his, I went to the kitchen to prepare it. I felt like a milkmaid carrying two churns as I carried their drinks to their rooms. Michael grunted at me which I interpreted as a thank you and from Lady J I got “You'll have to get your nails cut David, you've drawn blood scratching your forehead.” Oscar looked up from his new position on her pillow and I knew he was thinking it was his mark to show I belonged to him. His property.

  “Yes dear” I replied and went off to get ready for the day. By nine o'clock everyone was up and dressed. Lady J was going to the stables for the morning and I reminded her to take a few tickets in case she hadn't yet coerced everyone there into attending the concert. Michael and I decided to go for haircuts.

  We drove into town after I had managed to get into the current skate he drives and parked up. After being lifted, twisted and manouvered out of the car we walked to a shop called Tonyz Trimz where I'd never ventured before. There were two barbers or tonsorial artistes according to the signs on their shirts on duty and both chairs were occupied. There was no queue and so when within minutes the chairs were empty we were gestured forward. Michael forever quicker than I ensconced himself in the first chair where a younger man was ready to wrap a cape round him and wash his hair. My lack of speed got me the second chair where Methuselah himself was waiting for me. He was wearing bottle bottom glasses about an inch thick and holding things very close to his eyes to study them, his hands for instance which were shaking with age.

  I was caped up and my head guided to the sink to have my hair washed. My head first connected with the bowl which drew apologies, then with the tap which drew another and then my head was blasted with scalding hot water that made me jump and hit my head on the tap again. No apology this time as I'm sure he thought it was my own fault.

  As I sat back in the chair I saw him hold the scissors and comb up to his face as though sight alone would tell him which was which. Fear started curling up to rest in my stomach.

  There was laughter coming from Michael's chair and I could see that he and his practitioner of these sharp arts were getting along fine. I on the other hand was fielding a barrage of inane questions.

  “Did you see the football last night sir?”

  “No, I'm afraid not. Not too keen on football I'm afraid.”

  “Are you going away on holiday this year sir?”

  “In November? I don't think so.”

  And suddenly he's finished. I looked in the mirror and was impressed. He ran a long mirror behind me and it was immaculate.

  He brushed me down, I stood up, thanked him, paid and went outside for a cigarette and to wait for Michael. He soon followed me. I had to stifle a giggle as I saw it looked like he'd been done by putting a pudding basin on his head like it was when we were children. I was looking at a Norman Baron newly arrived in England circa 1066.

  “Looked like you were close to losing an ear a time or two in there David, I was surprised someone that old could still stand up let alone cut hair.”

  “Yes Michael, but there's something to be said for the old craftsmen,” I replied trying not to gloat openly.

  “Righto, Coffee!” he said walking ahead of me down the street to Cass E Dees. With a minor detour to the newsagents we entered and sat down. Moments later Sherryl came over to take our order.

  “Two coffees please Sherryl” I requested, “and here's some chocolates for you all.” I passed my newsagents purchase over.

  “Looking as gorgeous as ever I see,” said Michael.

  “Thank you David” she said to me and turning to Michael said “As charming as ever I see. Time you got a haircut I think.” Then she walked away with a twinkle in her one good eye.

  “What on earth can she mean?” asked Michael.

  “Probably just joking Michael,” I said, “probably just a Saxon joke.” He looked at me quizzically hearing that.

  After coffee we left and headed back toward the car.

  “People keep looking at me” said Michael.

  “Well old son, it's been a while since you were here in town,” I answered diplomatically.

  Lady J was already at home when we got there and so was Grizelda. They glanced round at our arrival then resumed their conversation. Then it stopped and they glanced round again for another look.

  “Very smart David,” said Lady J, “I thought you'd get yours done too Michael.”

  “What?” he said.

  “Erm, not your usual style Sir,” said Grizelda.

  “No, I asked for something more modern, more cutting edge,” said Michael.

  “More cutting Michael and less edge. Next time ask for something that suits the shape of your face and not the monk look he's given you. A monk most definitely you're not,” said Lady J.

  We lunched late and then spent the afternoon playing cards and trading our usual insults.

  At 6.00 pm we were dressed and ready to leave. It was getting dark but there was no rain or snow about so the journey was a pleasant one, we even had time to stop and allow a rather grumpy badger time to cross the road.

  When we arrived at the Cathedral we saw it had been lit up from below. It looked magnificent. James was waiting at the great door to receive us and ushered us inside. “Here's a programme” he said. “The choir are here and have agreed to do two songs as well. Suki is here and looking as beautiful as ever and the Toastie Tenors are just getting changed. Suki made them blush when she asked if they wanted to share her dressing room, though she meant at separate times. Such nice lads. The local shopkeepers have brought all the money from ticket sales already and there are still people buying at the door. The place is packed to the rafters.” He sounded really excited.

  Going through the inner doors I could see why, it must be the first time this place had seen standing room only. We took our seats at the front beside
Ysabel, Hugo, Karina, Joanna, Leee, Jean, Col. Wyn and Blodwyn. We had the whole row with one seat to spare. Within a few minutes James had come to occupy it. The front and inner doors closed and a hush descended.

  As clear as a bell from the choir stall came the song, “O' for the Wings of a Dove.” Unusually it was not the voice of a young boy and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. Towards the front came Suki, or Eileen Dover as the crowd knew her, singing in her clear, pure beautiful voice. As the last note sounded the place erupted in a rising crescendo of whistles, claps and cheers, not something this great Cathedral had experienced before yet it didn't seem out of place.

  She sang a heart wrenching folk ballad next that raised a few tears, but I did share my tissues, before she introduced the choir who sang for us. They were wonderful.

  As their first song ended I rose from my seat and walked to the pulpit to use the microphone.

  “Don't worry Ladies and Gentlemen, no sermon, it's not Sunday yet. We've had a great start to the evening my friends and now it's time to introduce you to two young men who have offered their time to help raise the much needed funds. Please give a very warm welcome to the Toastie Tenors Adamus and Ricardo.”

  I returned to my seat to much applause but it wasn't for me, it was for the boys who had just stepped forward.