Dear Diary,
I have seriously neglected my usual habits of late and so chose today to put that fact to rights. I set off determined to mount the Knob but turned back soon after as I came over all queer. I fear I was not yet ready to return to the scene of my near demise at the hands of an irritated nun. Instead I wandered onto the Chapel to play upon the Parson's organ. It was not ideal to be alone and having to pump oneself to keep those pipes a-swelling but I soldiered on and found great satisfaction in my music making. I was just finishing a fugue when Mrs Bunder came in to begin her floral display ready for the weekends service.
"I wish I could play like that," she said. "You certainly know which of those knobs to pull and when. You have talent, Mr Austen."
I smiled graciously. "I must take my leave of you, Mrs Bunder, and I pray you take no offence since you have just come but I am expecting my parents home at any moment and I should be there to greet their return."
"Have they been anywhere nice?" She enquired.
"Oh, just Far Corfe." I replied.
The woman is quite mad. She suddenly set about me with the teasles she was carrying and chased me up the aisle and out of the door as if possessed by the Devil himself.
I have heard it said 'there is nowt so queer as folk' but none are queerer than those up Cobbler's Bottom!
Kristin Chenowith - Home
14 years ago
5 comments:
My dear, dear friends,
This is my 200th entry and I thank you for your kind comments and encouragement. I hug you as I would hug a very precious thing and I am tempted to lick your cheeks, but propriety forbids it.
Yours bicentennially,
Wayne Austen
Dear Wayne,
Thank you for every one too.
As for the hug I feel it and as for the lick I swell with excitement.
Bicentennially yours too,
B.
Dear Wayne,
May you soon be back on the knob again and feeling yourself once more. It is nice to know that you had fun with the Parson's organ and that you enjoyed the fugue so much.
Harmoniously yours,
B.
What a momentous opportunity to utter greetings and salutations, and say thank you for such gay amusement. Every night before I lay myself to sleep, I contemplate your portrait and think what marvellous thoughts would have sat upon your countenance during the many days it took the artist to capture such lineaments.
Yours contemplatively,
H in Agbrigg
My dear Mr 'H in Agbrigg'
I thank you for your greetings and salutations. So, you abide in Yorkshire...how awful for you and yet you write as if your pecker is still up. I admire those who can still smile in the face of adversity.
Yours estimably,
Wayne Austen
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