Dear Diary,
Forgive my absence but I am returned, though I doubt you knew I was away.
It seems that Ned was not the only one making plans, when I last adorned your pages with my inky nib. Early Friday morning, with little warning or compunction, I was carried away by Barouche for "my own good". I have spent the last few days in enforced contemplation, behind the walls of Ballbanger Abbey. My Mother and Mrs Norris, thought it best that it should be so, and hopefully, in the 'quiet' and 'solitude' therein, repent of my indiscretion.
Quiet!?
If I hear another bell toll I fear I shall scream, grab Ned's chopper and run amok! As for solitude...well, news of my 'new' reputation has travelled far and fast, even beyond the Abbey walls. I barely had a free moment, when there was not some postulant encroaching upon my sanctuary, offering to kneel before me and show me the way to Heaven.
There was nothing to repent and little to contemplate, except to say that I shall accede to Ned's plan. Things could hardly get any worse.
Kristin Chenowith - Home
14 years ago
2 comments:
Dear Wayne,
So glad you are back exercising your nib once more. You were missed indeed.
Ah, so things were done by the bell eh? Nice thought.
Would that I could be confined to contemplate postulants on their knees before me.
But alas the 'bell' tolls not for me.
Yours in tintinnabulation,
B.
Oh dear! "Things could hardly get any worse!" I wish that were always true. May it be true for you, Ned, Titty, and Annie too.
-h
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