Letter to Ernesto 1

My dear Ernesto

Thank you for your letter of the 13th, and please accept my apologies for the delay in responding. Life here at Gimlet Mansions has been frightfully hectic of late, what with Agatha’s burgeoning theatrical career and the accompanying hoo-hah (of which, more later). Mother’s behaviour continues to be erratic and she is, as I write this, shampooing the lawn in preparation for the visit of Emperor Selassie of Ethiopia. I don’t have the heart to tell her he’s dead, as she has also prepared an extensive buffet lunch for His Imperial Majesty, the cost of which is certain to put a terrible strain on our already meagre finances. In addition, her enthusiasm for motorcycle speedway racing has simply shredded my nerves.

Cousin Ralph popped by yesterday, on his way to purchase eggs, and has asked me to send you his best wishes. It pains me to tell you that his appearance becomes ever more dishevelled by the week, and his excuses more fanciful. He now claims to have a letter from a certain Doctor Sproule, advising of his allergy to any form of grooming implement. I find this utterly preposterous, as I’m sure you do, and would welcome your support in this matter. Perhaps you could send me a letter of admonishment, which I may pass to Ralph in order to dissuade him from continuing down this ruinous path. His beard is frankly insupportable, to say nothing of the aroma emanating from his waistcoat.

And so to Agatha. While her enthusiasm (like her tuberculosis) is contagious, her talents are limited to an almost catatonic degree. Following her last audition, for a Senor Immolatione of Stuttgart, I received a hand-delivered missive from said gentleman imploring me to have dear Agatha sent to a secure institution "to preserve the continued positive effects of the thespian art and to ensure that its good name is not forever sullied in the eyes of the public". Needless to say I have not shared this letter's contents with Agatha, for fear of another psoriatic eruption, but I must find a way of somehow curtailing her activities in this sphere, perhaps with a financial inducement of some kind. Any advice you can offer me in this matter will be greatly appreciated, dear Ernesto, for I am reaching the very end of my wits. 

Work on the south garden continues apace and you will be delighted to know that the refugees have now been removed from the summer house and a commemorative pear orchard planted nearby. The onset of spring seems to revive the entire grounds from its wintry sonambulance and it is as if the whole of nature now delights in the pleasures of rebirth. This change in mood has certainly revived my flagging spirits; so much so that I have recently been able to impregnate one of the itinerant workers after several particularly vigorous couplings. The child is due for birthing in the autumn, and I do hope you will be able to visit so that we may celebrate its arrival in an appropriate manner.

And so, dear Ernesto, I must take my leave. Mrs Funge has just rung the dinner bell, and you know how she hates to be kept waiting (we have only just been able to remove all the blood from the scullery walls following the Lord Frankisham debacle). Do write back soon, as all the fellows at the bridge club are anxious to hear news of your adventures in the high pressure world of worm farms.

I remain, your loving brother

Frimley