A trying day.
Mrs Hindmarsh noticed that I have been paying attention to Mary-Jane Murray of late. Well, what else would I do when her toast is so excellent? Only this morning she made a plate of devilled kidneys so fine that they could only be described as art. Her griddle cakes were of such a perfection as I never expect to meet again.
So naturally I have been giving her admiring glances, paying her compliments, doing little favors for her and giving her little gifts. And should I not? Should I risk losing her to some other household where she might gain these things and more? This is my breakfast we speak of and is not to be trifled with.
Now my wife seems to have misinterpreted this as a lessening of my affection for her.
As a result there has been much weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth for the past two days. Need I say that the weeping and wailing were hers and the gnashing was mine? I have been called a Lothario, a Don Juan, a trifler with her affections. My daughters have been warned against cads and bounders such as I. This morning I had to listen to a lecture on my loose morals while my eggs were going cold!
I have put my foot down and demanded that she not upset Mary-Jane. I cannot risk having her feathers ruffled as well and getting a badly cooked sausage. This demand seems to have only added fuel to the fire and now my damn fool wife has demanded that either Mary-Jane leaves our service or Mrs Hindmarsh leaves me.
Well of course this is nonsense... I am not about to lose an excellent breakfast and I board the HMS Buffalo in two days. Obviousy Mrs Hindmarsh, in whatever mood, will be required to board it with me. So I will be enduring the frost and the squalls and carry on, doing as best I can to keep the silly old girl on an even keel.
No comments:
Post a Comment