Dear Diary,
I am wondering if I should become a nun and enter Ballbanger Abbey in disguise. The walls around it are high and I have seen those nuns when they are displeased. Armed, with a heavy church candle, I am sure they would afford me protection should the moment arise. I have spent much of the day practising 'Ave Maria' in the library and when Jane came home from school she discovered me in her chamber trying on her now redundant wimple. The look on her face was nothing compared to that on little Willy Tert's face as he peeped out from behind her. She quickly ushered him out before I could explain and though I have since had an opportunity to account for my actions to her, little Willy glanced nervously at me all through dinner as he wolfed down huge mouthfuls of Mrs Crutchlow's venison casserole. It seems his mother is quite ill and Jane has generously offered to care for him until her recovery.
I have since abandoned my plan since Jane has told me of the sackcloth undergarments one is forced to wear and that the Sister's live mainly upon goat's cheese churned between dawn and their daily masses. I'll resign myself to death then.
Oh woe is me!
'Tis such a pity...I can be so dramatic...and could have made an accomplished thespian!
Kristin Chenowith - Home
13 years ago
4 comments:
My dear Wayne,
So wise to forgo the nunnery!
First of all the name, nun by name, NONE! by nature, is that really for you?
Second, Ballbanger Abbey now if that isn't a warning.
Thirdly, sack cloth chaffing 'little' Wayne too harsh indeed.
Yours relievedly,
B.
My Dear Mr Mous,
'Little' Wayne?....pish tush!
Yours theatrically,
Wayne Austen.
My appologies I should have said 'Python-esque' Wayne.
Chastened,
B.
My dear Mr Mous,
My heart is also huge...and I forgive.
Yours affectionately,
Wayne Austen
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