... to think that because I can't see a new IPOAT thread I should start one myself?

[PrincessFiorimonde]

Especially as I want to wish CheerfulYank a VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY for today. Hope you are having a lovely day.

And here is the patron saint of IPOAT playing Happy Birthday To CY!

I fear young master johnny is mightily exhausted so shall now attend to my duties checking prawns. What is this i hear about mistress Fiderer and the pearl? Surely she has not lured the darling Mr Rochester away with a shyly revealed prawn?

Hark I have seen the herald and he has foretold a terrible tale. Our love batons are endangered to spread them is to risk the very plague itself! Oooooh what to do???

Hark! I hear the flurried wheels of a Phaeton hastening down the drive, why tis none other than the Right Rev, see how he clutches his missal and has a lovely thorny brooch. Welcome, Your Rightness, pray come this way and take tisane, ignore the shrieks and gaieties of those soon to be your charges, I fear they are quite wanton and much in need of loving chastisement.

Verily the Reverend is a proud, upstanding sort of a fellow. That strong chin! Those dark eyes! That brow, furrowed with care and concern for our gels!

His looks seem very familiar; surely he cannot be related to The Culler?

Indeed, you are most perspicacious, Widow. I believe he is his fourth cousin on his mother's side. That side of th efamily share not only a similarity of brooding countenance, but a fondness for the instruments of loving chastisement and a stern regard for the virginal. He will soon shepherd the gels into the fold of modesty, virginity and downcast eye where they will put on those raiments of ideal gelhood so sadly lacking in their metaphorical wardrobes.

today, the weather being so fine, I packed some black bread, small beer, a stack of pamphlets (for distribution), some hoummous and my pipe and took a walk up to the fields of Tottenham to seek rough trade discourse with the peasantry of Middlesex.

I found a warm refeption where'ere'ere I went, and those living in the hamlet of Ponders End most engaging

what have I missed? Would that I could read the thread, but mine eyes- alas!- are sore tired from repeated readings from my pamphlets to the illiterate yet eager country folk

[tired but happy emoticon]

squuuueeeeeeeeee!

I see that noble beast the yak has returned to the Arcadia of Ipoat!

I feel the urge to throw my leg over my trusty companion once more

Dearest Companions, I write to you from the recesses of the Sacred Bleeding Heart of the Martyred Virgins for Whom the Saints Wept. I have been allowed a moment's reprieve from lying prostrate on the stones of the sanctuary. I am most heartily remorseful for my delightfully fun filled unchaste behavior and hope to be among you again soon. Ah, tis hair shirt time and I must away.

Yr Obedient Servant, etc,
Cheerful Yank

Ok, who fed me tainted prawns. It was to keep dear Johnny from me. I swoon, nay, vomit. Even a hair shirt would be a blessing in such calamity. Fetch me a yak and to the sickroom i must go where the dashing captain shall soothe my brow and hold my bucket

Well ladies. I have returned from a brief sohourn in the restorative countryside and have no clue where you are.

A little catching up is in order

Fair Mistress Riveninside, was it the prawns? Or have you dallied not with Sir Johnny of Depp, but in fact with Hector Phunbaggio, the dashing Spaniard Count? I've heard many a accusation that he has about his personna many a tainted and Germanic love baton.

I fear in my heart you must have and am off to report to the Mistresses herewith intent.

That is a bile and terrible slander upon my good name Lady Honeydragon. I think the rejction of the comely General Ezekeieleieleilel has turned your thoughts from the virtuous and gentell into a murky slime more worthy of the very Yak of Doom himslef. I shall recommend that tatting in the barn is in order until only pure thoughts enter your head and possinly a small bit of flagellation. But not too much, lest the curl of the lash loosens your corset.

And in my distress at your accusations i fear mine own fair hand and the art of spelling has deserted me. Master johnny, save me!

Dont forget your tatting...

I fear I shall be in truth in need of ministration by the Right Rev and his thorny brooch.
My eyes dimmed and weary after long hours of reading pamphlets, I approached IPOAT not though the vestibule marked "ThreadsI'mOn" but the darkened portal that is "AIBU" which is by my own choice hidden from my innocent eyes.
Mistresses - what howlings and yowlings pierced my maidenly ears. I was sobbing in fear that I would never find the IPOAT door, as it was, yea, on the 4th page corridor down.
Never again shall I venture forth in such a foolish manner.
With surety the mere presence of the Right Rev has taught me some wisdom. His brow is not in vaim furrowed with concern for myself and Maiden CheerfulYank.

Mistress Honeydragon, please do not kick the barn door with quite such vehemence, for Rochester is already on poor terms with the gentleman farmer to whom the building belongs (for we are all, as you may remember, at The Hall, where there are no barns, though Ladies Who Stray may, on occasion, be sent to prostrate themselves in our large and well appointed stables). I fear if any more bad blood were engendered by, say, some damage to the property, another feud would ensue. Last time hostilities were only ended after we sent Pag down there in the barouche, bearing one of her fine mutton pies and a large bag of walnuts. Three days she was gone for, and her nutcrackers have never been the same.

Come Reverend.

Will you not sit with me on the terrace so that we might discuss what progress is made with our wayward gels?

How kind, Widow, to invite the Reverend to sit. I have carried dear Mr Rochester to his chamber and left him festooned with leeches to remove the ill humours he gathered in the ha-ha

Pray, let us pray and then we may discuss the harlots that have come under our care. Tis a heavy and weary burden we carry, Reverend. Even the famous stirrup cup can barely lift our flagging spirits when faced with their immodesty and gallivanting.

Dear Mistress Cheerful Yank

I scribe to you from the barn. The dashing yet conniving Hector has agreed to take this letter to you in return for the whereabouts of Mistress Hullys third best pearl. Times here are are hard, we are trying to follow the Rev but the Mistresses are terribly involved with Master Johnny, Rochester and even Abercombie is receiving ministrations behind the ha ha. I believe Lady Pag was involved in the topical application of leeches.

We miss your gay laugh and happy possets. This is why Hector is going to rescue you from the monastery. I have assured him you still have the recipe for Pretty Possets given to you by the Mistresses. In exchange for this great secret Hector will return you safely to us. Say strong and please when you get here find the key for the barn!

Mistress Honey

p.s

You will be well advised not to cast your eyes upon Hectors Zirconias, they are most vexing and not what you would expect.

Aye, Hully, 'tis a heavy burden indeed, but a rewarding one, I hope.

Thank you kindly, Reverend, for praying with us. It his lifted my spirits most well. Now, have you any suggestions at all for what we can do about young Honeydragon? Such a wild, wanton spirit I've not come across in many a year. Think you honestly that wet birch is the way forwards?

Ah! Hector! Come forwards, dear, don't be afraid.

Reverend, let me introduce Dear Hector. A foundling child, taken in by Hully many years ago, nursed to health by Pag, and given what little education as his feeble mind could take by our dear absent Beri. He helps around the Estate, fetching, carrying and so on, keeping us all well-serviced. Yes, sadly he is blind. And yes, the wooden leg is a pitiful affliction. He can scarce hobble 5 yards without needing to rest, but he is sweet-hearted, and fiercely loyal to Hully and Rochester.