Inhaling deeply – with one’s bosom expanding as one did so – one had just reached the point of fullness – when one spluttered (elegantly, of course) when one noticed a young, half-naked, muscular gentleman to one's left. He was delivering some hay for one’s dear horse, Dribble, but one could do nothing other than stand open mouthed as he began emptying his load right by the side of the conservatory. This was quite outrageous!
It was not customary for those who provided a service to the estate to come up the front. One always insisted they use the back entrance to ensure they can complete their duties without being seen. After all, one never knows when one will have an unexpected visitor, does one?
“Morning!” Shouted the young man, grabbing one of his bales and giving it a yank to the floor.
Dumfounded, one turned into the house and shouted for one’s faithful houseboy; “CHU ME! Hurry, dear!”
Like a flip-flop gilded gazelle he sprang out from the inside of the house and landed at one’s side. “Chu Me, dear,” one continued, pointing at the bare chested workman,”this is quite unacceptable. Please tend to the matter at once!”
Efficient as ever, he took charge of the situation and within a few moments, he was successfully taking the hayman up the rear. Slowly, one began to relax and enjoy the morning once more. Until, that is, one looked down and saw Crotchet padding across the drive. He had clearly been rolling around the dewy foliage and his fur was dripping wet. Trying to act oblivious to it all, he came closer. Folding one’s arms one moved to block him, “Crotchet, dear, where do you think you are going in that state?”
He stopped to look up at his displeased mistress, “You are not entering our home like that, poppet. One will not tolerate a wet pussy rubbing against one’s antique fabrics! You shall stay in the grounds until you are dry, dear. Now … off you go!” He turned and headed off, his tail shaking upright like that of a rattlesnake, show ing his annoyance and – one believes - a small pump of disgust was expelled to emphasise his point.
One simply couldn’t believe it. The morning was becoming a disaster. One felt one was in the middle of a scene from 2012, only blessed by the fact that the situation was – frankly – more believable.
Anyhoo … Just as one was about to return indoors, one felt the vicar’s horn pierce one’s eardrum. Sure enough, turning on the heel of one’s Gucci slipper, one saw his head whizzing past the bush at the bottom of the drive. He was panting furiously as he tried to make the entire uphill journey without stopping for a breather. One called for a member of the household staff to bring a glass of water and we waited …and waited … and waited. Eventually, he pulled up outside the steps, his face a very peculiar colour, and the small urchin in one’s employ ran to his aid with the water.
“Good … morning …Dame Cru …Crusty!” The vicar said, trying to catch his breath. “I was passing … and thought I’d … thought I’d pop by.”
“Had you taken any longer, vicar, you would have been passing by. I was about to close the door!
“I know. I must apologise, I’m having terrible problems. I think my sprocket may have gone.”
“Nothing a good rest and a bag of ice wouldn’t cure, I’m sure. Now … a spot of tea?”
One sashayed into the house with the vicar close behind, his bicycle clips clanging as we went. We took tea in the Drawing Room where one is convinced he was trying to tell me something, but the chaos of the morning had put my mind on another track and one simply sat and looked past him the whole time.
From the window, one could see the hayman and Chu Me down by the stables. Dribble was just starting to come out while Chu Me was trying desperately to prove himself, by helping with the unloading. He was simply too small resulting in the hayman having to drop his own handful and grab Chu Me’s bale to do the humping himself, while Chu Me, precariously, sat on top. Finally, his job done, the hayman shot off leaving Chu Me to clean up the mess. One sighed with relief as one began to see order was being restored to the day.
One turned one’s attention back to the vicar, who was still rambling on. By this point, one had missed what he’d already said so thought it best not to waste the energy listening to the conclusion, so smiled delightfully and injected the odd “Oh!”, “I see!” and “Well, of course” in what seemed like appropriate moments.
After a further cup of tea and six milk chocolate digestives, the vicar gave his leave. As he mounted his bicycle at the steps he turned, “Oh! By the way, Marjorie said she may call by later for a chat about the school sports day.” A shiver went up one’s spine.
“Oh no! One fears one will be out poppet” One said.
“When?” The vicar asked.
“Whenever she calls, dear! No doubt I’ll see her in the village at some point.”
“Very well, Dame Crusty. Must dash! So much more pleasurable going down, isn’t it?.”
“Quite, dear!” One replied with a shocked look on one’s face.
And with that one waved him goodbye as he set off down the drive. One waited several minutes on the step. No more emergencies seemed to be rearing their heads, so one headed into the bar for a gin.
© Copyright DCG 2010
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