out about town

Alas...

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.
disgruntled

On illness and strange bugs

As those of you who are wont to read through a Gentleman's private journal will be aware, I have not been writing much of late. This is because I have been unwell. The symptoms of the illness have been too Undignified to set down, even in this most private of journals.

I am now, however, much improved, and my symptoms have significantly diminished. I cannot say that I trust these modern physicians. A true physician would never examine his patient. Instead, he would prescribe bleeding. Even so, my physician's peculiar cures, by luck or judgment, I cannot say, appear to have been efficacious and I am once more up and about.

During my illness, I thought at some points that I was hallucinating. Unexpectedly, a large, brightly-coloured bug would sometimes appear before me for several minutes at a time.

Much to my horror, upon my recovery I discovered that not only did the bug remain, but others could see it too.

What strange world is this that I have found myself in?

I have engaged an artist to produce a likeness of this creature, which I have attached below.

A monstrous bug

My incompetent servants claim that this creature is in fact a peacock. They are mistaken. This is a peacock:

Peacock, photograph courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/laurenceshan/

The difference is, I hope, clear, even to imbeciles like my servants.

#

Recently, I have played host to my grandmother, Lady Samphire of Abergavenny. She could scarcely disguise her horror at my reduced circumstances. My former estate of Pemberley was one of the grandest in the country. My current estate, by contrast, is not. During her visit, my esteemed grandmother did her best to improve the quality of this reduced estate, but the effect was disappointing both to her and, indeed, to myself. The glory of Pemberley, it seems, cannot be replicated here.
disgruntled

Points of Contention

I regret to say that there are multiple points to which I must take issue in my treatment of the last few days.

Firstly, a true physician retains the title of "gentleman" only because he does not sully either his own hands or his patients' dignity by immodest physical handling or examinations. I am sorry to say that the doctor my servants chose for me has therefore forfeited his claim to that title. I shall say no more, but leave it to my gentle readers to draw their own inferences, painful tho' they may be.

Secondly, I cannot condone the new food my servants have taken to offering me far too many times every day. It is not flavourless, but rather too much to the contrary, as it has far too much flavour, of a singularly unpleasant type; it is served not on a silver platter but in a vulgar plastic syringe; and it is served in quantities suitable only for the greediest & most common of palates. Worst of all, my servants pay no attention when I inform them (in the clearest possible terms) of my distaste for the dish.

Thirdly, and finally, I am still ill.

Something Must Be Done.
disgruntled

Good God!

It has come to my attention that I am not, after all, alone in my current predicament. For some time, I had been cognizant of odd smells and sounds around me, but it was not until today that I realized the truth: there is a lady living in my house! A lady of quality, moreover - and, most surprisingly of all, I am given to understand that she is my sister!

I am sorry to say that - undoubtedly due to the deplorable influence of our servants - my sister has rather taken to country fashions. Whilst none could fault the colours with which she has chosen to adorn herself, she has become most lackadaisical about her dress. Indeed, since I first saw her for myself this afternoon, up until the present moment, she has not changed her attire once! She did not even change for supper. I, on the other hand, have had my clothes changed at least five times in the last twenty-four hours, as any gentleman ought, and feel myself nearly ready to change them once again.

Clearly, it is time for me to take a hand in my sister's education.

Still, I must confess myself relieved at last to have a genuine companion. It can be lonely to be a true gentleman.

Bandana closeup
disgruntled

A letter

To: Messrs. Mothercare & Sons.

Leeds: Saturday 25 October

Sir,

It falls to me, as my servants have once again failed to discharge their duties, to write to you regarding the attire you recently provided, which I am sorry to say was entirely inadequate and inappropriate for a Gentleman of my station.

As all know, a Gentleman requires the following items, as a minimum, for his wardrobe:

Pantaloons, shirts of white linen, several waistcoats, boots suitable for riding, a plain, cut-away coat, knee breeches, white stockings, black shoes (I am partial to golden buckles rather than silver), an evening coat, a great coat, a chapeau-bras, a high-crowned hat and a good supply of cravats.

'Onesies', 'babygros' and a green bobble hat are not suitable substitutes.

I trust that you will see to my requirements properly this time, lest I be forced to change tailors.

Yrs,

Fitzwilliam Darcy
out about town

Out about town - and revelations

Any gentleman, I believe, would be justifiably astonished to wake and find himself being tooled around town in a spanking new barouche, surrounded by strange sights and stranger personages. I myself was even more astonished to learn that my servants had been so insightful as to realize I was in need of a carriage at all - and I could scarcely believe (after painful past experiences) that they had chosen such an elegant one for my conveyance. Perhaps my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, had condescended to lend them her advice in the matter.

I am informed that the purpose of today's expedition was for my servants to register my name and my birth (the highest, of course) with the social leaders of this town. I assume that a guest book must have been signed, and proper introductions made - alas, I slept through the ceremonies, lulled by the strong drink my servants had provided beforehand. (Evidence of scheming on their part, perhaps? I shudder to think what lapses in propriety might have taken place without my oversight.) However, I was not too inebriated, despite all their precautions, to note: in the establishment that was visited directly after my registration, a variety of exotic delights were on offer, from coffee in the Italian mode to Eastern breads and steaming Viennese pastries.

And none of them were offered to me.

Next time I venture out in my barouche, things will go quite differently.

"Mr Darcy" out and about town
disgruntled

An outrage

Stripped naked in public again.

Unbelievable!

I responded with outrage, but to no avail.

What kind of world is this that I have found myself in?

Urinated in protest.

Ha!

***

In other news, several minutes went by today when food was not available.

I may have to dismiss the servants.