Last evening was spent thrashing the rules of etiquette into the Wood Nymph.
THERE WILL BE NO MORE EVENINGS ON THE SOFA SWIGGING BEER OUT OF THE BOTTLE AND WEARING COMEDY SOCKS WHILST WATCHING ‘YOU’VE BEEN FRAMED.’
And the mug with the man on the side who’s willy appears when hot liquid is added – IS GOING to the charity shop.
The word ‘Fokkit’ will be removed, forthwith, from the Underground Lair dictionary.
Constant requests for more alcohol will cease immediately.
The WN will acquire a hairbrush – AND USE IT EVERY DAY. (We can’t risk her bunging up the plugholes in the Castle’s antiquated plumbing system)
‘Burke’s Peerage’ will be required bedtime reading, so no more watching ‘The Office’ until the early hours on Netflix!
At least one ‘Chloe’ tea dress and some GIRL’S shoes will be purchased. (And NO, One is fairly certain they can’t be acquired via Ebay)
A twinset and pearls will be worn as daily attire to the workshop. (Diamonds are vulgar before 6pm)
Polite conversation topics are as follows:
Stocks and shares
The loveliness of the Royal Baby.
AND THERE WILL BE NO MORE SIDLING UP TO YOUNG MEN VARIOUS AND ASKING THEM UP THE PUB.
The reason? You may well ask, Dear Reader…
A MEMBER OF THE LANDED GENTRY, A LORD, NO LESS, IS FRONTING UP AT THE WORKSHOP NEXT WEEK TO LEARN HOW TO MAKE STUFF OUT OF THE TREES ON HIS FAMILY ESTATE.
With the expert tuition of Lovely One, The Wood Nymph should be Lady of the Manor within the month.
One has been promised a ‘Grace and Favour’ apartment in the family pile and the title of ‘Cake and Ale’ supervisor.