Belhaven's Best

After a seven mile hike through the Scottish countryside, a pint of beer and a fish supper, I began to nod off on the bus.

"Are you alright, darling?" asked B.A., looking up from the Edinburgh Life he bought to make change.

"Yes," I said mournfully. "It is the pint. I should have had a half pint, not a pint."

However, I must say that the extra half pint had quite an effect on my psyche. When we got off the bus and into the cold, bright, moonlit evening, B.A. dawdled behind and I scooted off towards the woods wordlessly singing Mozart's "Sonata in C", which I learned for some piano exam or other decades ago.

I zipped up the path and through the gate and into the woods and past trees and down the moonlit steps to the ruined teahouse before I realized that I was in the dark and scary woods all by myself and was not, in fact, afraid.

It was very refreshing. It was very novel. Where I come from "wooded area" = "empty parking garage", and the newspapers churn out horrible stories featuring the phrase "after dragging her to a wooded area."

"Darling," called a voice. "Where are you?"

"I am here!" I yelled. "Drunk, by the teahouse!"

"Oh good," said B.A. "I thought I lost track of you."

And I zipped miles ahead of him through the woods in the bright white moonlight singing "Sonata in C" with great gusto.

A Little Bit of Toronto

The Inner Child was not able to write any more "bodis-riper" today because her Outer Adult had some emails to answer before they both rushed off to play with the Youngest (Born) Member of the Parish and her brother.

After a satisfying morning of chat and being smiled at by infants (which like sunbathing without harmful rays), I went to a noodle bar on Nicholson Street. This noodle bar is called Yocoko, and it reminds me of Toronto. It is the only place in Edinburgh that reminds me of Toronto. Everything else, including the girl yelling Polish into her mobile at the stop where I waited for the Rough Bus home, is thoroughly Edinburgh.

Rough Bus. That reminds me. Look at this howler from today's Metro.

Officers more scared of women then men

Police officers fear dealing with female suspects more than males because of their violent behaviour, a study has revealed. There has been a rise in the number of violent attacks committed by alcohol-fuelled women across Scotland in recent years. The officers said that they thought female violence was more 'spiteful, malicious and erratic' than men's. Women were also judged to be less co-operative during investigations. Thirty-three police officers were questioned for the study by the Scottish Centre for Crime and Justice Research. [Funny part coming up.] Suzanne Young, of Glasgow University, who led the research, said: "This perception of unmanageable women has two consequences: first of all it enforces the gender stereotypes that women are more irresponsible than men. Secondly, if young women are more resistant towards police, then they are at greater risk of being arrested than young men."

Poor cops. What a bait and switch. Obviously Suzanne Young of Glasgow University doesn't get out much. Obviously she doesn't take Edinburgh buses after dark. Drunk and fighty women in Scotland are terrifying. They ARE spiteful, malicious and erratic. If stiletto heels are ever banned, I will not be surprised.

But back to Yocoko, which I love because it is Asian and cheap, cheap like Ginger on Yonge Street near Charles Street in Toronto, which is saying something.

The UK is the most expensive place I have ever lived in, and when I take B.A. out to dinner (French--French food is so Edinburgh), I count the cost in column payments. Thus the whole experience of stuffing myself full of noodles, shrimp and veg for under £6 strikes me as the most Toronto thing ever.

Having said that, I have to add in fairness that Edinburgh is among the most beautiful cities on earth and a centre of Western culture and the birthplace of Sean Connery and insulin. No--wait, insulin was Toronto. Well, at any rate, Edinburgh is fantastically beautiful and Toronto looks like baby giants took their block box and naughtily threw the blocks randomly north of Lake Ontario. So I am grateful to live here.

All the same, though, I am happy to have found Toronto-like food at Toronto-like prices and the waiter supplements the fork of shame with chopsticks when I ask.

Personhood

Normally I don't blog on this topic, but look at this.

This is mind-blowing, and I am reminded of pagan Rome, where fathers had a look at newborns and decided then and there if the baby should live or be thrown out of the house to die or be picked up by slavers.

Fathers had the right of life or death over their offspring, but now--as we know--it is mothers. And I have to say I agree with the headline, for I don't think prenatal infanticide that much different from postnatal infanticide.

Christians have always rejected infanticide, whatever some Christians may now think about prenatal infanticide.

Many pro-lifers like to say that if there was a window on the womb, no-one would kill unborn babies. But I never believed that because what are ultrasounds but windows on wombs?

But that said, I honestly don't think people look at newborn babies--even when they are purple, hairy and screaming--and think "Not a person." So perhaps the controversy to which I linked will have the silver lining of making ordinary people think again about prenatal infanticide. If these smart Oxford University people say there is no difference between killing a fetus and killing a baby...maybe killing 189,000+ British fetuses a year is kind of a bad thing.

bodis-riper 3.12

'up and at em outer adult' i sed pulling the earplug out of the computer 'enuff giberish i nede to ryt bodis-riper.'

the sound of giberish leeked out of the computer as for the 10000000th time someone sed 'Czy pani chciałaby teraz czegoś się napić?' we never heer this fraze on the bus or tesco however. so far owr suksess in eevsdroping on polls is confined to a mother telling her children to be quick and a wife telling her husband that he lyks sumthing.

'i wonder if the suksess of the 1981 brydshed didnt hav a lot to do with the theem toon' sed seraphic. 'all that brass is now stuk in my hed.'

'it is beeyewtifullie shot' i sed 'all that sunlight and flannel almost mayks up for the soi-disant nineteen yeer old charles ryders rinkles. now get up get up i must creayt.'

'o yes' sed seraphic 'i meant to tell you that ther has been a sqweek of protest abowt the violens. you must consider our market.'

'doant tawk to me of our market i am an artist' i sed. 'as a creaytor of fixshun i am in the biznes of trooth. it was only a matter of tym befor sir nikk seezed lady g and she whakked him and he whakked her bakk--for wikked men are lyk that--and she bownsed a wine glass off his hed. and anyway were we com from you kan ryt as much violens as you lyk as long as there is no hem-hem.'

'o deer' sed my outer adult. 'i can see that you are going to be difficult. i was luiking forward to a fewchur of being famuos for sparking wittie feminin katholik droring-room comedies and you simplie want to wallop peeple.'

'blud!' i cryed. 'blud! blud! i must hav blud! and choklit. pleez get me sum wil i type.'

bodis-riper 3.12

proodens x-amined herself in the glass as her hostess enormuslie fat and red-fased laydies mayd artful last-minit arranjements to her kurls. she was unshur abowt the nekkline of her bewtiful bloo evening gown becos altho it was very fashunabel so fastidyus a scotch clergiman as hewbert mite think it rood.

'i think mrs harvey' she sed 'that i shud ware my lays after all.'

'not a bit of it mam' sed mrs harvey 'lawks. it wud be a pitie to rooin the lyn.'

'o deer' sed proodens. 'i doant want to rooin the lyn. but also i do not want to gyv hew--mr robinson a hart attak.'

'do not worrie yorself on his akkownt mam' sed wikked harvey 'i am shur that eevn wen he is in his rite mynd--wich the poor man is not--the hon the rev mr hewbert robinson never notises such fripperie detayls as that. wy they tell me he is a very pius man.'

'yes that is troo' sed proodens britening. 'and he must by now seen other laydies waring the noo fasshun so he must be over any shokk.'

'indeed' sed mrs harvey and put in a final pin 'ther now. how very well you look mam. i am shur it will gladden the revernds hart to see you.'

and indeed it wud hav gladened the hart of any of proodens admirers to see her on this occayshun as the afternoons x-ersise her gown and mrs harveys x-pert hairdressing had put her in her best looks. her brown curls shone and her eies were as softlie bloo as her dress and thikklie fringed by long dark eielashes gudnees how lukky to hav them in the dayz befor maskara was respektabel. her lips were nachurally pink and a faint blush tinged her cheeks as she nervusly thot of the invalid down the hall. in short she was a brunette bombshell of the sort that cud mayk a tender maskulin hart simplie stop ded and if you rekall a few chapters bakk that was what the invalids eevil sister clementyn was hoaping for.

innosent proodens got up from the chair befor the vanity and cleered her throte.

'that will do thank you mrs harvey. wud you be so kind as to convey me to sickroom?'

mrs harvey likked her lips.

'sertainly mam' she sed. 'plees follow me.'

she led proodens down the gloomie lamp-lit hall and opened a door. she stood bakk and nodded her hed. proodens took hold of her skirts and went softlie in.

the room was but dimmlie lit by the candelite but as the candels were mostlie arownd the 4 poster bed proodens cud see qwyte cleerlie the tall leen figgur of a man . it was hewbert indede--there was no mistayking the firey eiebrows if the firey lokks rufflie tumbled on the pillo were less familyar. indeed it seemed to proodens that apart from the dooel she had not seen hewbert without his wigg for yeers and yeers and in trooth never seen him without his clerikal stokk. it strukk her forsiblie that she had never before seen his throt nakked to the elements but ther it was.

such an expanse of hewbertian skin--tho of corse a lot smaller than the expanse of skin wimmen habitchually displayed--mayd proodens feel a trifel stranj. she had to suppress an impuls to run away before she advansed.

tho soft her step was herd by the invalid hoo raysed his hed from the pillows.

'whos that?' he weeklie demanded.

'only I' sed the girl. 'o hewbert--its me proodens!'

'proodens!' cryed the invalid and he struggeled up onto his elbos. 'impossibel! how can this be? hav you fallen into my sisters power? or is this sum trik?'

his voys took on a harsh note prooden had never herd. she hung bakk startled.

'come closer' sed hewbert 'i can barelie see you in the shadows.'

proodens obedientlie stepped into the lite. and there befor him was the site for wich hewbert had simultaneouslie longed and suffered--the site that had first won his hart in a feeld and then overset his reeson in the pixie kirk and then distraked him so much that charles had managed to run him throo. it was laydie proodens pewsey and she smyled. she held forward her littel hand in greeting and hewberts hart stopped ded.

but it is a happie fakt that humman lyf is not primarilie the provvins of medikal sciens but of the Most Hi and watever the predikshuns of a harley street fysishun it was not the will of provvidens that hewbert shud drop ded at this partikular moment. thus almost immediatelie after hewberts hart stopped ded it rebooted and insted of dying hewbert took prudens hand in his.

'littel prudens' he murmured.

'not so littel' sed proodens. 'i hav bene presented at cort now and am qwyt grown-up.'

'in that cays i must offer you a seet' sed hewbert not tayking his dark eyes from her fays nor his hand from hers. 'proodens i kan scarslie beleev it. are you a halloosinayshun?'

'no indede' sed proodens. 'at leest i doant think so as i am not x-achuallie shur wat a halloosinayshun is. but i am proodens and i am heer and o hewbert i am so happie to see you. but are you so verrie verrie ill?'

'not now' sed hewbert. 'but i suppose they hav told you that i hav gone mad?'

'yes' sed proodens in a low voys 'but i doant cayr becos i am mad too.'

she blushed deep red in the candlelight and her hart rased like a raindrop splatered against a window by the wind. ther was a note of strayn in her voys and hewbert looked at her wonderinglie.

'wat do you meen my deer?'

'o' sed proodens. 'just wat i sed and i hav bene so unhappie becos i cud not tell anyone but i thot i cud tell you becos you are so klever and so holy and maybe cud think of wat to do.'

'i am not shur i understand' sed hewbert tho feers too shaymful to be naymed gripped his hart. 'but of corse you may tell me anything and i will help you in any way i can.'

'well' sed proodens and took a deep breth. 'i think i am possessed.'

'by wat?' asked the clergiman.

'by another girl' sed proodens in a lo voys. 'o hewbert it is aweful. sumtimes i am so happie i cry but then i am often miserabul and i cry agane and haf of the tym i want to kill mamma stone ded and the other haf of the tym i think of men wich i am shur must be bad but it is not me doing it it is this noo proodens hoo livs in my hed and distrakts me from my old pursoot of studying elefants.'

she gayzed at him with a frank and angwished look and if hewbert hadnt fallen in luv with her ages ago he wud hav fallen in luv with her now.

'deer proodens' sed hewbert 'that is not possession that is adolesens.'

'watever it is i doant lyk it' sed proodens 'and i hav bene terrifyed lest mamma and papa fynd out. they think i will be rooined if i tawk abowt elefants in companie imajin if sosietie fynds out i am insayn.'

'but you are not insayn' sed hewbert. 'this is just wat happens to girls. and in a different way to boys too. i was just lyk that wen i was yore ayj and it was hell.'

a look of sheer releef passed over proodens fays.

'reelie hewbert? is that troo?'

'absolootelie troo' sed hewbert. 'it is just one more result of the fall of our unhappy first parrents from grays. as we leev behynd childhood innosens we are punished with an x-sess of humors wich skrambel our brayns and altho it is wummans unhappy lot to be the more skrambeled as eeve incurred the grater penaltie her brayns unscrambel first. yewshuallie after havving a baybie or 2.'

'o' sed proodens blushing agane. 'is that the cure?'

'akkording to aristotel it is the cure for all femayl complaynts' sed hewbert suddenlie feeling he had sed too much.'altho i do not claym to be an x-pert on that. you will hav to ask your mamma.'

'gudness' sed proodens 'i wudnt dayr. im not supposed to kno abowt the fakts of lyf and if mamma knew i even sed 'fakts of lyf' to you she wud punish me seveerlie.'

but hewbert wasnt lissening any more for he had remembered something and the memory made his hart stop and start so much that it reallie is a gud thing it is provvidens and not sciens in charj.

'wich men?" he asked.

'wat?' sed proodens nervuslie.

'of wich men do you think' sed the rev. the hon. mister hewbert robinson 'or do yore thots run on them in jeneral?'

'o' sed proodens. 'plees pardon me hewbert but noo proodens say i shudnt tell you. deer me the very x-ens of n-glish sosietie seems to be not saying wat you reallie think. wen sumone says 'how are you' you must always say 'fine' and never 'terribul' and when someone offers you a third pastrie you must say 'no' and never 'yes' and if you think of men you must never ever ever say so. maybe you shud forget that part hewbert plees.'

'i doant think i can' sed hewbert and his pore overwirked hart valvs sqweezed open and shut like a creekie gayt. 'i appeel to the old proodens-littel proodens--the proodens who so luvs elefants and trooth. pleez proodens. tell me.'

to be continued...

Bodis Riper 3.11

hello it is me the inner child i cudnt ryt yesterday becos i had to n-tertane my outer adult hoo was washing a lot of dishes. and then we wached brydshed revisited with jeremy irons smirking at anthony androos in that very odd way. i think he was going for 'shy' but the problem with jeremy irons is that he has always looked like the portrayt of dorian gray. not dorian gray--the portrayt. evry time his teeth popped out I wanted to screem. all the same the series is brilyant.

'we shud reryt brydeshed revisited' sed i to my outer adult. 'that wud mayk us rich for shur.'

'blasfemie' sed my outer adult 'altho i konfess id luv to ryt it from cordelias poynt of veiw. the convent skool...the 'speshul luv'--wat was that id lyk to kno--the spannish sivil war and insidentally wich syd was she on? katholiks--franko--such a can of wirms.'

'no no no' i sed 'i mean we cud ryt a novel about the historikal huose and fill it with all the peepel we kno. look at sunday lunch. the droring room was pakked with archetypes in wool.'

'no thank you' sed seraphic altho obveeuslie she was tempted 'i hav no wish to be sooed by all my lunchun geusts in one jiant klass akshun soot. and it is verie bad maners to invyt peeple and then x-ployt them for art'

'aw com on' i sed 'thats how it is done. thats how eevlin waaw did it. just chanj the nayms a bit and swych the eie colors arownd.'

'i kant ryt any fikshun x-sept gost stories until you are dun the bodis riper' sed the outer adult. 'so stop naging. sir nikk has been crushing laydie grunestayns plump bejooled hands all weekend. mayk him stop.'

bodis riper 3.11 has violens dont complane cos i warned you

laydie grunestayne becaym ever more konschus that she mite swune.

'sir nikkolas....'

'nikkolas! i beg you.'

'nikkolas then' she amended fayntlie. 'i kan onlie assoom that you hav bene partie to some fuol rumor...sum owtrayguos lybel...that you hav been sadlie led astray by sum enemie...for i kannot understand how you cud possiblie beleev that i wud ever...o nikkolas nikkolas shurely nothing in my deportment cud ever hav led you to think i wud be so week so crayven as to--.'

'not week' cried nikk and after a rapid kalkewlayshun lowered his voys to a throaty throb. 'not crayven. mersiful.! if after being in yor pressens for so long---after havving the privilej to be so often neer you---to see you---to heer your voys---cuzzin hewbert were to akt on his feelings and you were--after a battel with the bonds of tyrannus convenshun--to tayk pitie on him--i wud not blaym but onor you for now it is i--i nikkolas--hoo am now at a such a stand!'

hermiones heart gave her a partikularlie painful thud.

'but wat kan you meen?' she cryed.

nikkolas got up from his knees and still grasping her plump bejooled hands sat besyd her on the chaise longue. the cowntess shrank against the bakk.

'you kno very well what i meen' he growled.

'i kollekt' sed poor hermione hoo was now seeing spots befor her eies 'that you are under the impreshun that you...that you...luv...me but i kannot for the lyf of me--.'

'impreshun!?' cryed nikk and his long slim fingers let go their steely grip on the cowntess hands to fasten rufflie around her shulders. her sleevs were of rather a thin and x-pensive silk and she feered they mite rip. 'nowlej! konvikshun! sins first i saw you in the park i hav been yore unwilling slayv madam!'

his voys krakked and he knew that he was no longer akkting but that he spoke trooth and also that he was angrie.

'even if i were mistayken about you and hewbert--and my informant madam is a very credibel one--it still remanes that you hav cast a web over me and that for some time i hav been unabel to think on any wumman but you.'

'but proodens' sqweeked hermione and her hart jolted with horror as she herd a seem in the back of her bodis rip.

'proodens!' exklaymed sir nikk with disgust. 'a child! grunestayns chyld! wat hav i do to with such a child as that? i reqwire a wumman a reel wumman with a wummans hart and a wummans passhun and a wummans bodie!'

and he krushed hermione agaynst him and rained feers kisses on her heeving boosum.

this of all things worked as a restorativ tonik to the wummans reeling senses.

'how dayr you?" gasped laydie grunestane and slapped sir nikk with all her mite.

shokked he releesed his hold and sat bakk. hermione wached transfixxed as he slowly turned his fase and retirn her gaze. the bloo of his eies was almost entirely eklipsed by his blayzing blak dilayted pewpils.

'termagant' he sed and slapped her bakk.

'ah!' skreemed the cowntess. the blow felled her to the karpet

'too kan play at that gaym' sed sir nikk grimmlie 'and i ashur you madam that i kan hit harder than you'.

'help' cryed hermione and wud hav scrambled up were it not for sir nikks foot impeeding her gown. 'let me go you broot!'

she espied her wine glass and threw it at his hed. the hevy krystal cot him just abuv the eie and he yelped in payn. with a hideeus ripping noyse hermione renched away from the skirt trapped under the tyrannus boot and lunjed for the bellpull.

'wich!' sed sir nikk getting up and grabbing her by the bodis 'you will not s-cayp me so eesilie.'

blud dripped into his eie stinging it and momentarilie blinding him. he put his foot on hermiones titelie laysed back and wiped his fays with the bakk of his hand.

'help help' cryed hermione. she thrust out a hand for the fireplace tools but seezed not the poker but the brush. she pulled and the stand kaym crashing down.

'o no you dont' sed the young man. he dropped to his knees and tried to rench the brush from hermiones hand.

'this is wat you call luv is it' sed hermione bitterlie as she held on to the iron handel with all her mite. 'you are an animal sir a broot beest!'

'all men are at hart broot beests' sed sir nikk as he pryed her fingers from the iron. 'and you shud hav thot of that madam befor you allowed me in yor presens aloan.'

hermione suddenlie relaxed her grip and making a fist struck her knuckles backwards with all her strength katching her attaker in the teeth. he kursed and fell bakwards agaynst the chaise longue. it slid bakk akroos the floor. with a sob of releef hermione flung herself forward and grasped the bellpull. deeply shakken she tottered to her feet and grasped the chimney pees for support. her hand was deeplie cut it bled.

sir nikk--his fase streeming with blud--gazed at her angrilie from the floor for a moment and then--to her surprise and horror--began to laff.

'my deer girl' he sed. 'you havvent the leest idea wat you look lyk rite now hav you?'

hermione looked from him to her torn dress and white petticotes and her eies filled with teers of rayg.

nikk poked a finger in his muoth and tested his teeth. altho his muoth was blodie his teeth remaned in plays.

'well thats something,' he sed cheerfullie and got up. taking a red lether cays from his pokket he x-trakted a siggar. he wyped his gory fays on his hankerchif and approached the fireplays.

'keep bakk' cryed hermione.

'my deer' sed the man reproovingly and putting his siggar into his muoth dukked his hed into the fyr. the cowntess stayred as he took his head bakk out siggar alite between his lipps.

'ill show myself out' he sed 'you may want to tidy up befor yore butler arryvs. peeple are so prone to think the worst.'

hermione cluched the marbel under her fingers.

'my husband sir will hav you horswipped on the stayrs of yore klub.'

sir nikkolas held his handkerchif to his bleeding eiebrow.

'do you think so my darling? i konfess i do not shayr yore veiw. after all you hav bene qwyt qwyt aloan with me and are in a stayt of parshul undress and--as i sed--peeple are so prone to think the worst.'

at last hermione fainted. she wud hav crashed to the harth had sir nikk not stepped forward and cot her. with a somewhat wistful glans at her boosum he propped her up against the marbel surrownd. then he pikked up his hankerchif looked arowd the room for any forgoten artikles and heded for the door. as he renched it open he perceeved a mr mcauliffe outside. the butler was brethless he had run.

'ah mcauliffe' sed sir nikk slipping the servant a guinea coin.'good man. glad to see you. her ladyship has swuned. see to that wont you?'

mcauliffe opened and shut his muoth lyk a goldfish in distress and looked from the young mans bloody fase and shirt to the room beyond.

'my lady!'

'exit the yung man' sed sir nikkolas and made a beeline for the bakk stayrs.


to be kontinued...

Lenten Flowers

Bonus post today. Here is my most recent article in the Catholic Register.

Incidentally, I was feeling terrible about something before I wrote the article and when it was done I went back to feeling terrible. In between I summoned up all my writer powers and wrote the article. For this is what it means to be a writer, especially a writer with a looming deadline. Writing is not about how you feel while you are writing. Writing is about blocking out everything except that which you need to write.

Not to toot my horn, but it takes discipline and hard work. I write almost every day, and because I write almost every day, I can write almost every day. And it's why I can write to deadline when I feel like absolute heck.

For Part 3, Chapter 10 of the bodis-riper, go to the post below.

Bodis Riper 3.10

it is me agane the inner child as sumone has to tayk charj. my outer adult is yewsless. insted of riting gentel romanses for the peeples freind lyk she sed she wud she sits arownd the huose reeding a book of compleet giberish called 'collokwial pollish'. and then she puts on hedphones and speeks giberish too. im lyk hello evrybodie in the wirld wirth tawking to speeks english we won. the onlie advantaj to lerning giberish that i kan see is eavesdroping on forreiners on the bus and saying 'how very dayr you' wen they are meen abowt yore hat. then i supose it mite be fun to see if wat hilarie wyt sez is troo and the onlie way to get served in the pollish delis back home on roncesvalles avenoo is to speek pollish.

this remynds me of seraphics reakshun this morning wen i brot her a big envelop from THE MAN ie the home offis.

'tayk off yore hedphones outer adult. yore passport is bak and the brits say yoo kan stay. congratulaysuns you have emiregressed.'

'Świetny!' sed seraphic 'mogę wracać do kanady!'

i gayv her a frostie luik.

'i doant kno wat you sed but it does not suond lyk graytful luv for yore host countrie.'

'lissen' sed seraphic 'it is syn of my kompleet and utter assimilayshun into edinburah sosietie. first the primarie minoritee langwaj of edinburah is not the gallik but the pollish. and second if i had a qwid for evry tym a skot told me he wants to leev skotland and go to kanada we wud have enuff monie to go to capri. the last skot hoo told me she wanted to emigrayt to kanada was the skot who administered my livving in the uk test.'

'golly outer adult' i sed in aw 'i gess it mayks you think.'

'it mayks me think that i have always lived for art and luv' sed seraphic. 'o shoot. now that stoopid toon is bak in my hed. do sumthing inner child. distrakt me! quik!'

bodis riper 3.10

sir nikkolas cameron did not usuallie mayk calls on horsbak. altho not wat you wud call a tulip of the ton he preferred to aryv at his destinayshun all fresh and cool and in a kleen shirt. but on this okkayshun he went strait to grovenor sqware smyling a littel grimmlie to himself. wen he reeched pewsie huose he gayv his horse strait into the cayr of a sharp-eyed staybel boy and asended the front steps.

he swept off his hat as mr mcauliffe opened the door. the late sun glinted on his birnished hed.

'afternoon mr mcauliffe. i tayk it ahem that his nibs is still at his klub?'

'his lordship has not yet returned sir nikkolas' sed the butler a shayd repressively. 'if sir nikkolas wud prefer to return---.'

'sir nikkolas wud prefer nothing of the sort' sed the blond yuoth stepping over the threshold. 'i assoom the laydies are hoam.'

'if sir nikkolas wud kayr to follow me to the bloo sitting room i will see if her laydieship is at hoam.'

'the red' sed sir nikkolas.

mr mcauliffe blinked.

'i beg yore pardon sir nikkolas?'

'the red sitting room' sed sir nikkolas 'i hav a fansie for the red sitting room today. i cant tell you wy reallie. it cot my eye the other day and i thot 'ah for a cup of tee in the red sitting room'. all the turkish watnots you kno. oriental oppewulens. i am sure ladie grunestayne wud not objekt.'

'the red sitting room is a trifle out of the way sir nikkolas'.

'not a partikel' lyed sir nikk cheerfullie. 'and i kollekt it has a dumwaiter. i so adore a dumwaiter. the tuoch of a bell the slyde of a door and lo and behold a steeming tee servis awayts! so much eesier on ones staff i think. yes mr mcauliffe leed me to the red sitting room.'

'very well sir nikkolas' sed mr mcauliffe.

'good man' sed sir nikkolas.

noos of sir nikkolas camerons occupayshun of the red sitting room was brot to laydie grunestayn as she played with her infant children in the nurserie. she looked up with a suprised expression and her hands flew to her tousled blond hair. it was in a stayt.

'the red sitting room mr mcauliffe?'

'at sir nikkolas request yore laydieship. he seems to hav a fansy for the eestern curios. and ahem the dumwaiter.'

'the dumwaiter?'

'he fansies the idee of a pot of tee sent up in the dumwaiter your laydieship. sir nikkolas appears to be in a wimsikal fraym of mynd.'

'very well' sed the cowntess getting up.'but it is a pity proodens is not here to reseev him. send mrs rees to my chaymber we must tidie my hare.'

mr mcauliffe bowed but lingered. he coffed in an apologetik way. hermione looked at him suprised.

'as laydie proodens is outwith the huose wud yore ladyship prefer an alternativ femayl attendant? i beleev madame de la curtain is in the skoolroom. perhaps i cud---?'

'perhaps you cud not be so sillie' sed the cowntess and a blush krept up her fays. 'reelie mr mcauliffe. i will tayk it as a grate unkindness if you fors me to remynd you that women of a sertane ayj and kondishun hav no need of femayl attendants in our own sitting-rooms. ther is i asshur you nothing amiss in my reseeving my dotter's suitor as between ourselvs mcauliffe i beleev him to be.'

'aye yore laydieship' sed mr mcauliffe woodenlie.

'in fakt' sed the cowntess britening 'i wonder if he does not have sum motiv for choosing such an isolated spot! depend upon it he wishes to consult me about his hoaps for proodens! o grayshus! at last! send rees to me and then tell the staff to stay striklie away from the red sitting room. i will not hav the footmen gawping and giggling over sir nikkolas's most tender sentiments. and tell cook to prepare a pot of tee!'

'aye yore laydieship' sed the butler and went away with hevy hart as his mistress ceded the nurserie to the mayds and floo up the stayrs to her chaymber. the guid old man went down the stairs and along the passage and along another passage to the red chamber.

it was rather an x-siting room with great turkey carpets and brass samovars with are akschuallie russhan but saym diffrens and curious red chaise longues and gold fraymed bits of arabian calligrafy on the walls. it was a perfekt if slitely outdayted bit of 18th century orientalism edward said wud hav had a fit but hoo cayrs? he hadnt been borned yet and i beleev he is ded now.

anyway it was a prettie sexxy room one way or another and had no windows and therefore sooted sir nikk perfektlie altho not mr mcauliffe hoo looked coldlie upon him and sed that if her ladieship rekwired asistans all she had to do was ring the bell. then the loyal butler disappeered to sit in servants hall by his end of the bell wire and fret.

nikk sipped a glass of claret and as he leened on the marbel chimneypees he luiked meditatively into the fyr.

'o my deer sir nikk' came a voys of gladness from the doorway. the yuong man tirned. laydie grunestayn clad in the outmoded edinburrah fasshun that best suited her buxom not to say fat figgur was looking uncommonly well. altho of corse the dowayjer cowntess of paisley had grosslie exajjerated the level to wich proodens mamma approximated an objektiv standard of femayl beewtie she was konfident and smyling wich my outer adult says is 1/2 the battel. and if to be honest laydie grunestayne wud ever only apeel to a nishe market hers was the nishe market in wich sir nikkolas prefered to shop.

he lifted his hed from his balancing hand by way of greeting.

'good evening laydie grunestayn' he said.

he drank a sip of claret.

'good evening good evening' carolled hermione as she shut the door behind her. 'is it evening? i thot it were still afternoon. anyway that is of no matter becuz--dear dear sir nikkolas--our proodens has been--how best shall i say this?--has been x-onerayted from anything unplesant! the dear dear dowajer duchess of paislie has seen fit to aknowlej her. to reseev her! in fakt at this very moment my dear sir nikkolas proodens is driving with her grays in the park. or no-- perhaps by now they gave gone to her grases huose for an erlie supper. so altho it is a pity proodens is not heer this evening you must be very glad that our littel skan--our little unplesantness will no longer attach itself to our innosent dotter.'

sir nikk inclined his hed slitely and smyled darkly.

'i fesilitayt you' he said.

something in his tone brot laydy grunestayne up short. her smile faltered dimmed and bekaym artifishal. she noted that sir nikkolas had not remooved his elbow from the marbel chimneypiese and that he was still in riding clothes. his shirt looked as if it had been worn for more than half an hour. his usually sleek hair was awry as if he had been running his hands throo it. and the habichually soft look in his eies had been replased by sumthing almost marshal.

not knowing wat else to do the cowntess sat on a chaise longue.

'wont you sit down?' she sed.

sir nikk took his elbow from the chimneypiese and sat down on the chaise longue across from lady grunestayne. it was not very far from lady grunestayn and as he continooed to gaze at her she began to feel uncomfortable.

it had been the regrettable habit of the layt erls grandfather to smoke opium in that very chamber with his best freind each reclining on a chaise longue as they smoked and chatted about increesingly stoopid stuff. altho terrifik mesures had been tayken to remove evry evidence of the noxios substans lady grunestayn suddenly felt as tho there were still a trays of it in the air.

'so wat was it?' asked sir nikk at last.

'i beg yore pardon?'

'the reeson for the dewl' sed this strange new sir nikk of the hard eyes and messy hare. 'if it wasnt proodens and my dear--laydie grunestayne--i dont know if you know this but i was present--i wud lyk to know wat--or hoo--it was.'

laydie grunestayne began to feel that her konstriktiv bodis had been a bit of a mistayke. she cud feel the strings of her korset cutting into her bak as she struggeled to master her breething.

'my deer sir nikkolas' she murmured. 'i dont qwite--i dont qwite understand.'

'you do not giv yourself enuff kredit' sed the yuoth. 'how often hav i herd that laydie grunestayn had an understanding above all her sexx? a man's brane--a woman's hart. so i hav always beleeved. and so i beleev now. come come my deer. tell me all about it. hewbert was indiskreet was he? but of corse he wud be. he laks my tactical abilities. and of cors he is a friteful plonker.'

laydie grunestayn tryed to stand but cud not.

'i beg yore pardon' she murmured. 'my maid...my salts...the bell...'

'drink this' said sir nikkolas and thrust his glass across the short distance between them. 'and dont feel you must mayk a show of having the vapors for my sayk. my deer girl i cudnt be mor pleesed. well' he amended 'not pleesed xactlie. pleesed is the rong word. i did not want to that kno it had been done but i sertanelie wondered if it cud be done and now thanks to my deer deer cuzzin i kno.'

hermione drank with shaking hands. she was as wyt as a sheet. again she tryed to rys but cud not.

'there is sertanely some mistayk' she murmured. 'i am at a loss...you cannot meen... you cannot think... shurely you cannot think that...oh but how ridikulus... i and hewbert...how cud such a thing be beleeved? hewbert and i?!'

she looked up to meet sir nikks implacable stayr.

'a very credibel performance my deer' he sed and stood up. the cowntess wached as he crosed to a side taybel and pored another glass of claret. 'a very credibel performans indeed. yes it must hav been hewbert who slipped. got the wind up probablie and blabbed. and how very unforchunate for you havving to liv with the outraged husband. or is he outraged? perhaps hes the kind who puts up a good show but doesnt reallie care. wonderful! nisi dominus frustrat--that's the tikket.'

hermione shut her eyes. the wine had put sum colour bak into her fase. now she summoned all her strength to speek.

'sir nikkolas' she said loudlie and her fine voyse crakked. 'you are under a misapprehenshun sir. do not speek to me in that fashun!'

she opened her eyes to see sir nikkolas put down his glass. the yuong man strode across the carpet and threw himself down at her feet. he took her shaking hands in his own, grasping them titelie.

'hermione' he sed and his voys rasped with passhun 'tayk pitie on me!'



to be continued ha ha!