Wednesday, December 18, 2013

What a weekend. Already three days have past and I am no closer to that elusive recovery, and I have a very particular lady to blame for that matter. However, because she provided me with more entertainment than usual, she shall be forgiven. Also, we were celebrating her birthday and it's only fair to be a little exuberant when the occasion calls for it.

I look forward to continuing these raucous celebrations well into the new year.

Despite my nonchalant response to the weekend's behaviour, I managed to get chastised for over exerting myself by none other than the artist! (No doubt some of you assumed the Duke would have been the one to scold me, but he allows me the freedom to act as I please, which is greatly appreciated). This artist, on the other hand, and I have been at odds since our first meeting and she reprimanded me for wasting her time as I was 'looking less than perfect' because of the previous evening's intoxication. This apparently meant she couldn't paint me. At least not that day.

So I was left to my own devices, in a state rather worse for wear, to wait on a lowly artist! I penned a rather scathing letter to the Duke of Albany, but thankfully saw the good sense not to send it straight away. It actually helped just to write down how I felt.

The artist and I have had two more sittings since then, where I have met her ridiculously high standards and I have to admit I am pleased with how the Aphrodite is looking. It doesn't feel like me, but rather as if I am seeing the birth of a goddess.

We only have two days left to finish the painting before the Duke and I journey to the Shire for the Christmas festivities. Winter has well and truly set into Bohemia's roots as everywhere I see people bundled up in their furs, but letters from home dictate a much warmer clime, even for this time of year. 

I have to admit I am rather anxious about the Duke meeting my entire family. Not since the farce of the blonde Esquire has a suitor met my parents, especially someone that they hadn't already chosen for me! The Duke is his usual reproachable self, and I wonder if I should worry more, but deep down I know he will delight them and have to fend himself against my Mother's hints of marriage!

Oh how I long for the Shire, and to celebrate new beginnings with Belle, the Irish Lady of Corcaigh and the Duke of Albany. Truly I couldn't imagine seeing in the new year without them at my side.

D. S.