Friday, September 17, 2010

How I am sick to death of all this packing! I cannot find anything to wear for my final night in the Shire and it seems I have misplaced my birthday ring from my ladies! I dread to think where I have left it... Though there is one place that springs to mind but I am terribly embarrassed to contact him after all we have been through.

No, this isn't that Architect I am referring to, but rather a Scottish Earl - the brother of one of my ladies - who I'm sure would be aghast to find out the licentious activities he and I partook the other night, just before the excursion to the capital.

The South Wing is to be unveiled tonight and our final goodbyes uttered. At least until Christmas. Here is a drawing of a piece of our gorgeous new furniture, the Hepplewhite that I mentioned previously.

Isn't it just like me to leave as another scandal is about to rupture through the end of a perfect summer. I accept that there have been a few blemishes along the way. I can only blame myself in respect to the Head Architect, I fell too hard and expected too much when I should have just considered him to be another lover, nothing more.

At least I know where I stand with my Scottish Earl... And neither of us are around for too long, we might not even have the pleasure of each others company during the winter months. I do hope he will be around, it is always refreshing to have someone keep you warm during the long nights, and I know I'd appreciate the length of those nights with him!

I have various items to return that I somehow acquired during the last few months. At least I can find other people's belongings, Heaven knows where all of mine have been stashed!

I will write shortly once I have completed the journey back up North. No doubt this year will be completely different, but no less delightful than the last and I am looking forward to going back but I haven't been pining for those amusements as much as I usually am towards the end of my stay. I wonder what my attitude will reflect of my thoughts, and my scandals...

D. S.

1 comment:

  1. Imagination is dangerous one of my teachers said.But i imagine myself the canvas to your brushstrokes even though these words weren't meant for me,except in the abstract fantasy that exists in my mind,and which causes my heart to pound as if I were a mounted hunter,in the heat of the chase,bugles and hounds and hoofbeats in an orchestra of chaos,the heart simply another element of elaborate orchestration,the loud explosion of a musketball erupting from a gunnbarrel,the agonizing last squeal of a fox which becomes a bloody,lifeless mess on the ground.Pounding and pounding as if louder and harder were the only possible outcome.