The time between written posts passes too quickly and there are days when I forget that I have a duty to myself to record what it is that I do, where I go and how I feel. I wonder how long it'll be before this hobby of mine dwindles to a halt and it too becomes a fleeting memory, for I have no greater commitment in my life than the few words I share on these pages and the colours that I allow to drip on to a blank canvas. 

Though life is not as bleak as I portray it to be. 

Actually I am ever so fortunate. Another year older if not wiser, and though the frivolities were many and the permanent marks almost as damming as in previous year, I do feel more content. There are moments of dissatisfaction, but in general, I cannot believe my good fortune and I hope I show my appreciation to the Goddess. 

I only have a few more weeks in the Far East before returning to the Shire for the summer. Again I shall be at the Convent, (I cannot remember a time where the summer and the Convent weren't intermingled), and I shall have my darling Irish Lady by my side. I cannot wait to cavort in my overly-familiar stomping ground with my blue-eyed darling. She is almost as adventurous as I am in some aspects, and far exceeds me in others!

It will be delightful to catch up with my wonderful Ladies of the Shire and I cannot wait to watch my darling Armiger walk down the aisle. There are so many people to see and so many people that I am looking forward to spending some time with, if only for a few long summer evenings.

Though it cannot be said that I am not enjoying my time here in the Orient. I am off on some more travels in a few days, accompanying a truly captivating creature who I daren't write any more about at present. The Scottish Earl is still sojourning in the Far East for a while longer, which makes for interesting dinner conversation. And the musician, with his deep, soul-searching eyes... He is more than a little difficult to comprehend. Indeed, there is all manner of confusion in my head and heart and I know that I am the one who is going to end up burned, but truly I don't know how to do anything other than what I'm doing... I shall just have to wait and see how I manage to cope with the path I have forced myself down.

D. S.

I ended my previous post with a thanks to the Lord, an unashamed, unabashed plea for the good times to stay, in exchange for my appreciation and gratitude. So far, I must say that my prayers have been answered. 

My Mother joined me here in the Far East a few days ago, and though her journey was tumultuous, she has taken to the Far East like a duck to water. I forget that she has travelled as much as I have in her younger days, and though this is her first time to my Eastern city, she is more interested in the people I know than the places I have been. So we have dallied with friends, wandered the mountainside, delighted at the spectacle of dancing water that has astonished so many visitors to my Easter home. I am glad that she is enjoying herself and I hope she gets just as much enjoyment out of her own travels to come. 

Before Mother arrived I did have one day worth writing home about. It was a Wednesday and due to a wonderful tradition, everyone was in fiesta mode as we were celebrating the King of Festivals. I spent the morning in a state of undress with an artist of note - nothing like the portrait of Venus the Duke of Albany had commissioned for me all those years ago - but rather something much deeper and darker, and I have to admit it took me a fair while to get comfortable with my body being scrutinised in such a way. 

That afternoon I jaunted over the waters to a larger city to spend time with the Scottish Earl who surprised me with a visit. I couldn't not see him while he was in town, and there are rumours that he may be here for a little longer than expected. But of course it should have been scandalous to jump from one situation to another, yet it looks like I am used to these various trysts. 

The final chapter of the day was a complete surprise, even for me. I had left my painting class after my delicious dinner with the Scottish Earl and was wandering the streets of this most glorious city, when I heard the ever-so-familiar notes of a ballad from a musician I hadn't thought of in months. I couldn't help but be drawn to the sound. 

I didn't expect to see the same deep, dark eyes staring back at me from an equally shocked face from my travels in Indochina many months before. The musician continued to play, ever the professional, but the second he had a moment to spare, there we were laughing and talking about our fond memories from before Christmas. He was never someone I wrote of as an individual, always too wrapped up in the man who made me see myself, but now, now that I know what I am... I still can say nothing more. Not until I see him again.

And of this beautiful Iberian princess that I have become acquainted with...? For now, I have no words.

D. S.

Another post and another country that I have fallen in love with. There is nothing I can say or do to stop myself from travelling, and honestly I can't think why I wouldn't spend the rest of my life discovering new cities, cultures and ways of life that I wouldn't be able to imagine had I stayed cocooned in the luxury of the Shire. 

I have continued to travel the Far East, not leaving the bustling shores of the Orient, but listening to the distant rumble of cultures un-yet discovered. Indochina called my name and I followed willingly, exploring tiny fishing villages that haven't yet experienced the furore of the future.

I went with my gorgeous Scottish Lady and we dined and danced and dallied with all that the country had to offer - and I cannot stress enough the beauty of a country so little effected by the trappings of the modern world. It was truly a glorious place to visit and if I had any disappointments, at all, it is that I didn’t get to spend more than a few days experiencing paradise.

This only means one thing, that I have to, at some point in the future, return to Indochina and give more of my time to a place that has opened my eyes to the truly important things in life.

This journey was not one of self-discovery. Siam taught me that I am running very low on patience and my tolerance for other people is not where it should be… Seemingly however, my creative ambitions are soaring, so I need to work on finding a balance before I become an artist and a hermit rolled into one unintentional situation.

I have a desire to see more of the world, and to paint. Nothing else seems to give me the same satisfaction, though there are individuals that I have become close to, and they in turn are demanding more of my attention and are only too willing to smother me with their affections. Please do not take the term ‘smother’ in my usual negative connotations, but rather imagine that someone is placing no more than a chaste kiss on my cheek, and I am overreacting. It is another of my flaws that I intend to work on, at some point.

Until then, I shall discover more about what the Far East has to offer. My Mother is going to join me at the end of this week and together we shall roam the streets of my home. I shall share my memories of this place that I have spent so little time, but have already created snippets of my life that I hope to never forget. It will be exciting to have someone from my past visit me in this new and exotic place. I remember how wide-eyed and in-awe I was when I arrived, but now I stroll past the palaces and gigantic buildings without a second thought. It will be wonderful to see my own town through the eyes of a visitor.

I feel ever so privileged to have all I do and see all I see. Please Lord, I am the happiest I can remember, let nothing take this feeling away. Help me always be grateful for what I have, because there is nothing else that I could ask for.

D. S.

What have I learnt since my last post? If anything (which I sincerely doubt) I have discovered that practice truly does make a difference, and my sketches have improved immeasurably since the beginning of the year. It is a pleasant feeling knowing that pushing yourself to do something every day does eventually pay off. 

If only I could be as dedicated with my writing, like I was in Bohemia, but it turns out I have to make choices between my arts, my friends, my work and myself. And truly I have been suffering for I have lost who I am, and maybe that's because I haven't been doing my writing? Questions are all I have, attempts to see what works is all I can do, and only from there can I adapt and develop to this being that I believe, nay, that I know I am. 

I know that I need to make more time for myself, to experience things that I enjoy, for it is all too easy to hide away in my ivory tower, drawing, writing, painting, with no thought to the outside world. But when I hear tales of my wonderful Ladies of the Shire, cavorting in the snow back at home, I not only envy their freedom, but wish I had the opportunity for similar experiences here. 

I miss my friends. Of course I have wonderful acquaintances here and few close enough to hold to the bosom of my heart. Nevertheless, it is not quite the same as having your friends from childhood laugh, reminisce and gossip with a furore that I'm sure only we know how. I don't think I have missed my Marquessa and Baroness, Armiger and Court Jester as much as this since I lived in the Antipodes and had yet to meet anyone outside of my family. 

Love is also a thing that I feel I can no longer speak of. It has left me, leaving only bitter memories of that which I have lost. I am in a confused state, still only worrying about me. The Duke of Albany has also been on my mind more than I care to admit. Indeed he has gone from a a name I barely recognise in conversation, to someone who haunted my dreams only last night. I feel the need to speak with him, but distance is a great barrier. So I shall write a letter, letting him know that he is in my thoughts.

For truly, the only other person to enter my mind, is myself. 

D. S.

To be overtly pensive about the fickle friend that is 'Time' can haunt thoughts at every moment, but to get nostalgic and sentimental about life and the choices that we make or the ones that are thrust upon us... I believe that is less self-indulgent and more necessary so that we can allow some self-awareness to simmer near the surface of our facades that we have spent so long cultivating. 

It seems that nostalgia and creativity are intertwined as I cannot put pen to paper without reflecting on the past and musing about what is to come. 

I suppose I should explain...

I came to the Far East with the Duke of Albany hot on my heels as we discussed attempting to pursue our relationship for a third time. But the powers that be dictated otherwise and he had to return to Bohemia. We have corresponded since then, and while he was here in the Orient I did allow the notion of absolution to cross my mind, but it seems that resentment and bitterness are hard emotions to swallow. That and pride.

So I then had the chance to breathe, on my own, on the other side of the world. It was exhilarating. Is exhilarating. 

There was a gorgeous man who caught my eye and took me on a whirlwind romance that lasted far longer than I intended, but I knew that relationship would be short-lived. As wonderful as it is to be adored, living on a pedestal can be exhausting and far less satisfying than one might think. I have had liaisons and infrequent frissons with other men, but only one has stood out and has the potential to go the distance. 

I am afeared to write much more on the matter. It is far easier to find objective words about men that no longer mean anything to me, but writing about someone who has opened my eyes to who I am. Someone who has given me an insight I didn't realise I lacked?

Words are not precious enough to describe him, nor pencil marks to give him form. Nay, even oils do not do him justice as I have so much to thank him for. And it still surprises me that his heart is mine. How even? Why me? How...?

I daren't question it nor speak above a whisper in case it is all a dream. 

D. S.

As much of a cliché as it is to state 'new year, new me' at this time every three hundred and sixty five and a quarter days, I don't feel that urge. I don't feel any different at all to how I felt this time last week. I am more determined to focus on my favoured crafts; writing and drawing, but those are longings that I have all year round. The start of a new year only reminds me that life goes on, and there is nothing at all we can do about it.

I don't want to compromise myself, nor constantly adapt to suit my surroundings. I wish I could accept that I will not fit into every environment, but should rather spend time searching for my natural habitat - whatever that may be.

Anyhow, I have returned to the Far East with a bronze on my shoulders, and a flurry of fond memories, though it is truly wonderful to be home. Yes. I'm home. It may not be my native or natural habitat, but I have adapted the Orient to suit my needs. It is my home. For now. But I felt a huge release and the utmost relief as I stepped foot on the familiarly foreign soil. I have said similar things about various countries, but for the first time in half a decade I'm not considering where I can go next. 

I'm content with the space I am occupying, I just need to figure out how to spend more time doing what it is I love. 

As far as men are concerned, I am doing my utmost to keep them from my thoughts... There are always suitors, whether conjured up from the past, those who I can see and touch and taste in my present, or those that will somehow find a way into my future. I have spent far too many hours and days dwelling on these men. They aren't going anywhere, so I may as well accept that and do what makes me happy.

I close my eyes for what seems like a few minutes only to open them and discover I am once again staring a new year in the face, having little to no time to say goodbye to the year that was. I suppose I should fill in all that has happened during my adventures down under, all sorts of rumours have been flying as I haven't had the time, nay, the strength, to put the rumours to bed. But lying here in the sweltering morning sun on the last day of the year I feel I ought to give an explanation of sorts.

My last post, short though it was, dabbled in poetry and riddles, though it wasn't particularly clever nor rhythmic. It hopefully would have made you think of the land down under, a vast continent of reds and yellows, not too dissimilar from my childhood in Africa. My Mother has resided in the Antipodes for quite some time now, and it was about time I paid her a visit. All was going well until, on Christmas Day, my knee and leg seemed entirely out of sorts. I cannot begin to describe the pain, and though I am now on the mend, I had to go under the butcher's knife which rendered me somewhat incapacitated. The country has many wonderful views and creatures to ogle at, but it did rather dampen my spirits as I was confined to my bed chambers for the festive period.

Now that my spirits soar, of course it is time for my bags to be packed as I ready myself for my return journey to the Orient. I am looking forward to giving home; though it is certainly the strangest place I have ever lived, I feel comfortable and happy and of course it helps that it is mine. So as I prepare for another journey, the sands of time continue to pour, beckoning the start of a new year ever closer.

Resolutions should be at the forefront of my mind, but in all honesty, other than chasing my creative dreams, there is nothing more I wish to change. Maybe I'll just continue with those I conjured up last year...

It's amazing how much can change in a single year. I daren't begin to imagine what this next year has to offer.

D. S.

So where was I?

Ahh, yes, the surprise that was well worth the wait... After the Duke and I had made passionate love in the library and feasted with his family upon his return, we made plans to visit the South of Bohemia, a medieval town not that far away from the European capital of music, Vienna.

Český Krumlov is absolutely stunning, with rolling hills and dramatic mountains. The Vltava river meanders through the busy streets and gurgles lovingly at the foot of the castle. We shared such a wonderful time together, just the Duke and I, in this small little town, that I know it will always hold a special place in my heart, though we were only there for a few days.

I made an active decision not to ruin the weekend we had together by giving into the artist's demands and questioning the Duke about the other women in his life. I believe I am the only one in his heart now, and if he has had past lovers then that only makes him all the more experienced for me. And certainly he knows exactly what he is doing! 

It was only once we returned to the City of a Hundred Spires did it occur to me to ask about my surprise, which had seemingly been so easily forgotten. The Duke of Albany grinned at me, his blue eyes hinting at mischief, and he told me to wait in the Palace gardens, and without another word he disappeared. 

Of course I was slightly disgruntled as the seconds turned to minutes and there was even a panicked moment when I thought he wasn't going to return. But at long last he turned the corner and presented me with my dearest and most wondrous Belle! How he managed to convince her to travel the Continent and come and visit me I shall never know, but I only hope he knows my appreciation and gratitude.

We could not stop talking and it gave the Duke much gladness to see Belle and I reunited after so many months. The next few days that followed were in complete bliss and I cannot even recall what it is that we did. However, now that they have both left I feel rather empty, something I have never felt before here in Bohemia.

Again I have a month at least to wait until I get to see the Duke again. The distance does take it's toll, for we take at least a day to adjust to one another's company, whereso I noticed that Belle and I instantly recovered. But I look forward to the summer where the three of us can promenade around the Brighthelmstone convent and enjoy the sun's rays.

But for now I am alone, and they two, are travelling back to my Shire. 

D. S.

The Duke of Albany arrives in two days and I cannot think of anything but holding him in my arms. He has also piqued my interest as he has promised to bring a surprise with him... I have no clue as to what it may be, but he knows me well enough that I trust his judgement and only long for the day to come that much sooner!

However, I shall not allow his impending visit to shadow over the week I have had.

Jeeves and I travelled to the West of Bohemia with the Irish Lady of Corcaigh to visit some renowned musicians and delight in the cultural differences of various nations. The music was sublime, and I adored the entire weekend. 

We drank and ate far more than is entirely respectable, and I have to admit our hostess could not be faulted for the event she so proudly had prepared for us. The scenery of the countryside was awe-inspiring; I haven't seen the like since I travelled to the Antipodes two years ago, and I stared, my mouth agape at the wonder of this country. Truly, I will miss it on my return to the Shire. 

Of course there was dancing, the Irish lady and I are never likely to be the first to go home, though for a change we were not the last! It was delightful to have so much fun and freedom, though the language is still somewhat of a barrier.

The only slight mar on the entire weekend was the journey home; Jeeves and I were told to wait for a carriage in this tiny village a little more than an hour away from my chateau, but it seems the carriage did not wait for us. Instead of the three hours it should have taken us to make it back, we doubled that time and took six hours!

Never have I been so grateful to see the castle of Mladá Boleslav. 

Now I shall just wait for the Duke's arrival. I have not forgotten that I have several questions to ask, but the longing for his touch is outweighing my curiosity at this point...



D. S. 

I can't believe how the time has flown! Already tomorrow shall we be one month closer to the rough winds of May, and I barely have a weekend to myself throughout the whole of April. But that only means joyous things to me as the Duke of Albany travels across the Continent and joins me once again. 

Where to begin?

I suppose the artist's eventual repercussions need to be discussed after her ghastly treatment of me, though I do promise that I was swift and only slightly less just than I should have been...

Indeed, I also have the pleasure of sashaying through delightful memories from the weekend. The brunette (of all people) and Armiger surprised me with a visit to the City of a Hundred Spires, and we gossiped, and laughed, and drank to our hearts' content. 

Though I suppose, first, I shall quickly skim over my latest rendez vous with the artist.

After I showed my face and was so warmly received by the Duke's family at his home here in Bohemia and managed to waylay the artist ever so briefly, I was surprised to receive an invitation from the painter. She had made it quite clear that she had no interest in painting me ever again, and truly I cannot imagine what else we would say to each other. 

So to tea I went. It's normally a fruit tea of sorts in Bohemia, so I had Jeeves bring with us some English tea as I can't stand the boiled citrus fruits that are claimed to be tea! I was right, of course, lemon and apple I think were the combinations on offer, but before I so rudely poured my own tea, the artist asked me if I knew how many paintings she'd done for the Duke.

A silly question, or so I thought, but I did assume I was not the first. I hazarded a guess at two or three, mainly because the Duke had mentioned one or two names to me previously, and as much as an honour it was to be asked, I am not completely naive. 

I do wish I'd aimed higher however, as the artist showed me sketches of seventeen other women, all of whom have had their likenesses painted by this artist in some glorified silhouette.  I didn't want to rise to the bait, and I casually shrugged it off with a nonchalant, 'everyone has the right to a past,' but I do fear the Duke may have some explaining to do when he returns next week! 

According to the artist she doesn't want to have to paint one of the Duke's women more than once, because no woman should have to suffer through that repetition of being marked and tagged more than once. I snidely asked if she'd ever had to do a self portrait for his collection, and she scowled at the insinuation. 

Of course the Duke has a past! I have a past and I'm sure he'd be horrified to hear about some of the things I've done in my life. But c'est la vie. We eventually parted ways and I shall make no more contact with her, the artist. She lives a provincial life and she certainly wouldn't have understood the drunken debauchery the brunette, Armiger and I sank into this weekend!

It was an absolute delight to see them, despite being for such a short time. I couldn't remember the last time we three had been all together, especially on the Continent! But we certainly made up for lost time as we partied and danced and laughed our way into the early morn. It was a weekend I shall never forget. I truly adore my friends and was grateful that many conversations were left unsaid as we rekindled our platonic relationships. 

I am to travel again this weekend, to the West of Bohemia and visit some more local friends. I'm intrigued as I do love going to places I've never seen before, but am not sure what to expect. No doubt that means an extra suitcase or three, but it would be terribly bad manners to turn up under-dressed! 

Keeping busy is keeping me distracted from the words the artist told me, and allows me no time to think of the Duke's absence. I will have him in my arms, to hold (and ask a question or two) in ten days. I am tingling at the very thought!



D. S.