Reflecting on the splendid company

Good morning to you all.  And by all I mean any people of breeding who may have stumbled upon my little posts.

I was sipping a fine cup of Lady Grey in a little cafe the other day, which I have to say was remarkably quiet for the Antipodes.  And I was thinking about my dear friend Lady Betsy Hamilton Fish who I stayed with once in that other cultureless land that begins with A. It's a place that the Antipodeans seem determined to copy at every possible opportunity and where you order your food by numbers. Very odd.  My dear friend Lady Betsy is stuck there like me which is most unfortunate.

Lady Betsy and I spent many a happy hour or two walking her large Hound in the woods, and doing our best to educate the locals to speak properly.  On one memorable occasion we went to a diner as they are called over there, although why they call it that I cannot imagine as they have no idea what to dine actually means.  I mean sitting in a booth with no proper lace table cloth, or candlelight. Just a hard laminated table, fluorescent lighting so bright you would think they were trying to light a football field, and plaastic knives and forks, is not my idea of dining at all. Anyway I decided that the piece of gateaux I had been servcd was so ridiculously oversized it would do for my dessert for the entire week.  So I simply asked the waitress if I could take it away.

She looked at me blankly like I was speaking in Lithuanian. So I politely repeated my question.
Lady Betsy had gone to powder her nose otherwise she may have been of some assistance.
The waitress stared at me with a blank expression and finally asked 'where would you like me to take it to M'am?'  I was positively miffed and told the simpleton that I wanted to take the aforesaid piece of gateaux away with me, to my temporary home. Was this so incredibly difficult to understand.  She then replied in a most enthusiastic manner 'Oh you want it to GO?'  Apparently that was the magic word. 
But after some training from Lady Betsy in the local lingo, I did have a most agreeable stay and left with a feeling that in some small part of that large cultureless land, they now know how to make a proper cup of tea where the water is thoroughly boiled and not from the hot tap.  

I am hoping that one day my friend Lady Betsy will come and visit me in my small mansion in the Antipodes.

Yours most reflectively,
Lady O.

What ever next

Dear people of breeding, 
No doubt you have been most upset at the lack of any little posts from yours truly and I do apologise for causing you any angst.  The truth is I had the most embarrassing thing happen with the local Vicar, and although it did happen almost a year ago,  it's taken me this long to recover.

I really cannot imagine why my Butler thought he could use the Hoover to keep my statue of David free of dust.  A simple goose feathered duster would have sufficed.  But in his clumsy attempts to remove the dust he also removed an important part of my statue's anatomy.  Since you are people of considerable breeding I am sure I do not have to resort to the kind of crude language the Antipodean philistines use to describe such an anatomical part.  To make matters worse he tried to glue the afor mentioned part back on the statue. 

I remained oblivious to what had happened when the Vicar came over for tea one afternoon. 

I served tea in the morning room so the Vicar could admire my view of Sydney harbour. If he had moved his chair into a different position things may have been quite different.  But he chose to sit perilously close to the statue of David and while holding out his cup for another spot of tea a certain anatomical part from the statue fell into the Vicar's teacup with a most ghastly splash.  I am sure that the colour of my face matched the garment he was wearing.  The Vicar gave me a horribly questioning look as if he thought that this ghastly incident was somehow connected to me. And then when I hurriedly informed him about my incompetent butler, the Vicar suddenly announced that he had promised to pick up the manure for Mrs Beanie's rose bushes from the gardening centre, and left in a most hurried manner.  Heaven only knows what he thought of me.
Naturally I fired the butler forthwith.
A most embarrassing day.  But for those of you who are concerned about the statue's missing anatomy it has now been firmly re-attached and I am thankful to say that apart from the Vicar, and any members of his congregation, nobody else is any the wiser about this unspeakable incident.
Yours most embarrassingly,
Lady O.