AIBU in thinking that the IPOAT hall has transported to another dimension

[Minimammoth]

Where has it gone? Just as I was about to start sprucing it up for the jubilee and start tatting the bunting?

No fighting now. You can all carry red things.
Ahem.
A soirée. I shall play the virginals, and do eurythmy. Anyone else?

I have busily teaching some little lambs a most gay prancing dance. They will be happy to perform and are so sweetly pretty.

Will they be shorn or curly?

Hello chapettes

I am on holiday, it is bucketing down with rain, DP has gone back to bed in disgust and I am wondering if it's too early for a g&t bored senseless.

Any advice?

(PS it's only 10.45am here, so I know the answer to at least one of my questions.)

Are you still a-holidaying Princess?
If you are returned you could help the undergardener cut mistletoe in the orchard. He is very nifty up against a tree.

I have called in the industrial cleaners, Agatha Bagatha Tabitha and Dave just not coping. Dusted off a small circle on the front door for the holly wreath, and wine is a mulling. Wassail?

'tis very dusty and grimy in here. If we all muck in and clean up, bagsy I get first go with the hip bath afterwards.

Oh course Syb.

I shall take a bracing dip in Mr Rochesters receptacle instead.

You might want to give that a good scrub with carbolic soap first. I saw his leg in there the other day and it was not a pretty sight.

It's amazing how he gets his leg in there. Very flexible chap.

Goodness Mercy Upon us! What is this? Tis Miss Sybil and Miss Honey sharing a tub with Rochester's leg and frozen quite, quite stiff.

Oh well, life is but a passing flit. Where are all the staff? Surely someone is around to carry their frozen corses away and deal with them? Where are the tatted shrouds?

I need a tisane.

Oh oh the tisane is stronger than I recollected Miss Fids must have upped her game in the herb drying shed. What is that awful stench? Ah, the gels have not been removed, what an interesting shade of green they have gone, soon they will be all ooze and I can just pour them away. Until then mayhap I will cover them in rose posset to mask the smell and hie me to the pomander cupboard.

Have we become part of Zombie nation? No no, much more Dr Zhivago< shows age>. Hully how's yore pore hip? We shall have to rub you with unguents.
Gets scrubbing brush.

Hello dear Miss Mini! Will you help me siphon the dear melted gels into these bottles? We used to use them when dear Mr Rochester was bedridden, but the gels won't mind, liquidised as they are. Hip's in fine fettle now, thank you, Mrs Unguent's Patent Potion worked a treat. I trust you enjoy a lustrous bloom of health?

Me I'm forever lustrous < well, in some places more than others> I' ll go get the hog syringe.

Hum hum hum. Time for a bit of dusting. The Gels are homeopathic now, to be used from curing giddiness.

I think a spell in the herb drying shed, all the old stock needs sampling. < does a bit more humming>

Dearest Ladies and Gels,

Many apologies for my long silence. My ink froze, indeed my very heart seemed bound in ice.

I write on the train having spent the last few months in the winter abode of Count Dashinsky. It seemed so romantic but alas the heating was never fixed which did little for Count Dashinsky's ardour.

With a fair wind and a hefty payment to the harbour master I shall return to the Hall very soon - please light all fires and warm some comforting tisanes. Dear Ladies, I have raided the Count's Accounts as recompense for my discomfort and this year shall not be strained by austerity!

Yours affectionately,
Miss Fid

Oh goodness gracious I thought the Hall was lost to me and here it is again.

I mislaid my way home some time ago

Th Hall is never lost, Jins.

It is always present, just sometimes hunkered down in the Ha Ha for a bit.

That's a great relief. I have struggled to find a decent tisane on the High Street

Sea Log:
Received telegrams indicating life at Hall. Thrilled. Am defrosting eyelashes modestly. Too much blinking has odd effect on sailors.