Hi Folks, another brief chapter in this hiccuping diatribe that is my blog/diary. The butler says that when he was little, kindly relations would provide him with diaries for Christmas so he could be the next Samuel Pepys and he'd march off with them and a big bag full of good intentions. The diaries usually had entries for 1 January, 2 January and, if it was really wet outside, perhaps 3 January then... nothing. Not one single entry after that. I'm afraid this record of my existence is shaping up the same way and you'll have to forgive me for that. I'll try harder.
Hey, I’ve made a discovery. There's a set of wooden platforms going upwards from the hall and recently, while the guv'nor wasn't paying attention, I snuck up there and, lo and behold there's a whole new world up there! I had a blast and, while I've got a nice new and pretty swish bed in the kitchen area, the staff have an enormous sleeping platform up there that dwarfs mine. There's something cockeyed somewhere or my name's not Sid which it is. Surely the staff are supposed to live in the cellar whilst those more privileged take to the high bastions of the building. I'll have to see if there's some rule somewhere that can be invoked to rectify this appalling injustice. The maid was not best pleased by my adventures aloft and chased me back down. Probably embarrassed by the state of things under their bed. Someone either coming or going under there obviously. Now my appetite has been whetted, I'm itching for another opportunity to explore. Actually I'm just itching generally but I guess that's just the sand and salt from the beach...or maybe something else?
What? Oh yeah I'm aware that I've been a bit tardy with the entries lately but, you know, life is just so full of, well, stuff and there's not much time to faff around with diaries and such. I'd much rather be chasing foxes, badgers cats and spiders in the garden when I'm not roaming across the country park where there are amazing scent vistas that defy description.
More anon.
PS - the staff deserted me for ages recently and left me with complete strangers who were actually rather nicer than the humans I'm used to. They had several dogs who sort of tolerated me...just but one in particular a pretty young blonde who they called Amber. She and I hit it off big time and midway through my stay she began to smell amaaaaazing! At that point I was hurridley ushered out of company much to my disappointment and was barely allowed to see her which was a shame. I'm sure we could have thought of something to do. Anyway, when the staff did deign to return, smelling vaguely of olives and goats I hear talk of me being 'done' whatever that entails. Time will no doubt tell.
