Dear Diary,
To London, to London.........
It was far too hot for travel and although the carriage was commodious and more pleasant than other conveyances I have endured of late, the journey was still some ordeal. Thankfully, I was able to face forward for I hate to travel backwards. Strange as it may seem, for one of my persuasion, I prefer the excitement of the road ahead to a receding behind.
Mrs Crutchlow's pasties were most welcome as an ambulatory repast and were eyed enviously by the other hungry commuters, but I was able to enjoy them despite the slavering audience.
London eventually came into view with it's familiar spires and famous erections and there is much to feast ones eyes upon. I departed the coach and found transport south of the river to Mr McVay's accomodation at Hither Green Hall. I was greeted effusively by Charles, the cocker spaniel, but being covered with canine sputum is not something a man of my standing can get used to.
I was tired from my perambulations and so excused myself and retired to bed early.
Kristin Chenowith - Home
14 years ago
3 comments:
Dear Wayne,
Have fun!
Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
Sighingly,
B.
Wayne, I've been chanting "To London, to London to buy a fat pig" to myself all day (I know that's not how the rhyme goes). I hope that's not your intent, because you've already had far too much to do with pigs lately.
-h
My dear distant 'Hassan?'
That is indeed how the rhyme goes as I remember it...however....
yours tactfully,
Wayne Austen.
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