As one writes all is right with the world. The trees are alive with the colours of Autumn and all is quiet barring the gentle chatter of a Vickers from the North tower as the Mem' tries to bag a few migratory ducks as they pass overhead. Although judging by the starlings littering the lawn one fears that she is not having much luck on that front and nor are the starlings. Must get Clackthorpe to make sure they are cleared away forthwith, not because one fears a visit from the RSPB inspector but one is sure cooks menu for this evening mentioned 'Game Pie'.
Even the gazebo is back in its rightful place after being rescued from its watery grave and Blenkinsop has even recovered from the recovery attempt. At least physically if not mentally. One is still not sure how he ended up like that but at least his wooden leg kept him afloat even after Utterthwaites rescue attempt left him concussed and confused.
One is still confused oneself as to the discovery of a rather soggy pair of scorched Y-Fronts and some ladies frilly apparel in the submerged gazebo. One cannot imagine how they might have arrived in such a place and their parading by Utterthwaite on the end of his mole clubbing spade caused some consternation amongst onlookers. Lady J was heard to mutter "Oh my!" before crashing into the herbaceous border in a dead faint and the under gardener Luigi was suddenly nowhere to be found.
Anyhow, as one said, all is right with the world as one gazes from ones study window across the mist wreathed estate although it rather appears that the Mem' may have mistaken the postman for a Grouse. One thinks one should really get one of the staff to rescue him from where he is pinned down at the main gate as one would hate to raise the ire of the village postmistress again having lost another of her staff. Not so close to Christmas and the arrival of a postal order from great aunt Hortensia.