Fortescue Towers

Random ramblings from the life and times of Col. Fortescue Featherstonehaugh Fortescue.

Thursday, January 13, 2005

Monsoon season

Rather inclement weather we are having here at Fortescue towers. Howling gales and it has not stopped raining for days. The peacocks in the formal gardens have begun to resemble a small U-Boat pack as they wander forlornly back and forth heads poking from the surface of the water like beady eyed periscopes. Cook has even taken to spear fishing in the kitchen garden. One thinks that the wetsuit might be a mistake as the Japanese whaling fleet has been reported steaming full speed ahead towards the estuary.

Of course, what with the ancestral pile not being what it once was a few draughts have been finding their way into the great hall of late. Reminds one of the sort of wind that used to howl up the Khyber when one served on the frontier. In fact, must make sure the chambermaids do their jobs properly, been getting a bit lax with the cleaning recently. Took the old elephant gun to what one thought was a grizzly roaming the hallways only to discover it was a giant dust bunny propelled by the gale howling through the hole Sir Hubert made when he fell through the floorboards over the festive season. I think cooks plum duff may have been to blame for that one.

Place is full of strange smells too, not just from cooks leftover sprout soup and Blenkinsops little problem. No, the mem' has decided to take pity on the sheep in the lower meadow and now the place is full of the beggars drying out in front of the fire. Can't even enjoy a glass of port and the broadsheets without having one of them decide to take a bite out of the crossword. Damnably annoying and all that sopping wool makes the place smell like a school cloakroom. Think one prefers it when the mem' is taking potshots at the servants rather than being charitable.

Just wish it would stop raining, can't take much more of Blenkinsops complaining about wet rot in his wooden leg. Can hear him moaning about it a mile off as he limps slowly down the long gallery with ones bedtime cocoa, preceded only by the occasional surprised bleat as he stands on a wandering sheep in the darkness. Really should show him where the light switches are, might get ones cocoa whilst it is still warm then.