Dear Diary,
It has been some time since I got my tackle out and handled my rod but this morning, upon Jane's request, I did just that. She asked me to take young Willy down to the pond for a piscatorial treat. Mrs Crutchlow provided us with a feast of bread, ham and cakes to take with us. Just as we were setting off Ned appeared and handed me a small, delicately carved wooden box.
"I just want to thank you, Mr Austen, for yesterday. I thought my end was nigh."
"Indeed it was Ned," I quipped, "I have never been so close to your end," and indicating the box, continued "you shouldn't have, but I will treasure it."
"Oh no," he replied, " that ain't a gift, it's just a box o'worms," and indeed it was.
I was looking forward to spending sometime with young Willy but sadly he did not appear to relish his time with me. He was sullen and obtuse and the only sounds he made were deep sighs and grunts. I tried to be as charming and merry as one could and hoped the excitement of a catch might perk him up but nought was biting today and we returned home empty handed.
I was in the parlour this evening after dinner and Jane entered with Willy.
"Go on," she urged him and he stepped forward and sheepishly handed me a note.
It read: 'I thank you.......'
I smiled at him and thanked him. Suddenly he smiled back, with the cheekiest grin. They left me alone and I looked at the note again. Jane had obviously worked wonders with his vowels but he had obviously over done the punctuation.
I then realised those dots might mean something more and quickly turned the note over and found the end of his sentence. No wonder he'd had a cheeky grin and, it seemed Jane still had work to do. In full, the note read:
'I thank you.......are a prock!"
Kristin Chenowith - Home
14 years ago
10 comments:
Wayne, I thank you are a greet wot!
vowelly,
-h
Dear Wayne,
It is indeed a pleasure to know that you had the opportunity to get your tackle out and give your rod its due.
Enviously yours,
B.
My dear mysterious Dr 'h',
Methunks you nood a vowel dictor!
So tell us more Dr 'h'...from where do you hail and what does the 'h' stand for?
Yours inquisitively,
Wayne Austen
My dear Mr Moose,
Envy me not. I am sure with a little perseverance you could dust off your own tackle and extend your own rod.
Yours encouragingly,
Wayne Austen
So tell us more Dr 'h'...from where do you hail and what does the 'h' stand for?
Oh, Wayne, to quote a mediocre poet in translation, "From farther away than you can imagine."
And the h stands for my name, silly boyee!
My dear distant 'Herbert?'
I was well aware it might be your initial and hoped you might enlighten us further...I can live without knowing.
Yours nonchalantly,
Wayne Austen
Wayne, I did not intend to be rude, but I felt uncomfortable writing my name and my home village in so public a place as the registry here at the Pump Room.
-h
My dear Mr. Austen,
Willy's note is an outrageous example of the base ingratitude found all too frequently amongst the children of today. It would be kinder to his parents and your poor sister, if you sold him to a chimney sweep or a factory owner. The money would help to keep his parents in gin and the work would leave Willy too tired for mischief.
Your sister Jane would have more time to mingle socially and thereby find a husband to take her off your hands.
Yours advisedly,
Sir Studly Buckwell
My dear distant 'Horace'?
I fully understand and shall press you no further to reveal what you do not wish too. We are all friends here and I thank you for your comments and long may they continue.
Yours affectionately,
Wayne Austen.
My dear Mr Buckwell,
I thank you for your welcome if not compassionate advice. May I suggest you attend some soothing melodies and perhaps take a stiff one yourself. I sense an irascibility in your demeanour that, for an educated and articulate fellow like yourself, is worth tempering.
Yours most caringly,
Wayne Austen
Ps Have you considered snuff?
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