I must confess myself lamentably remiss in my duties to this journal in the past fortnight. Not only did my grandparents from the Colonies pay a charming visit - and what true gentleman could be so crude as to neglect his guests? - but, most maddeningly, my servants have been even more remiss than usual in their own duties. My maidservant, indeed, claimed to be ill, and my manservant devoted far more time to caring for her than to pressing my cravats and polishing my boots. Imagine, if you will, my chagrin at receiving a mere two changes of clothing per day! The time I might have spent communing with my pen, entertaining and enlightening History through this journal, was instead required for the chastisement of my servants...to little avail, I fear.

Nevertheless, I honored my social commitments by sallying forth on Sunday to dine with four gentlemen and a lady of my family's acquaintance at a rather odd, quasi-Italianate inn, titled the "Pizza Express". Sadly, this location proved a most regrettable choice. The waiters spoke more to our various servants than to ourselves, and the food served was clearly inappropriate to our genteel palates. (Thus, in our generosity, we allowed our servants to eat all of it.) Indeed, had we not all possessed the foresight to bring our own sustenance with us from home, we might well have starved! All five of my companions chose to sleep through much of the meal in protest. I alone remained heroically awake, but expressed my disapproval in no uncertain fashion.

So poor a service cannot and must not be tolerated.

Something Must Be Done.