Letter to Ernesto 2

My Dear Ernesto

How cruel the gods can seem, and how their capricious natures thwart our happiness at every turn! Still, the bandages come off tomorrow, and the resultant gooseberry crumble was certainly worth paying Dr Sproule’s exorbitant call-out fees. You may infer from this, brother mine, that my latest venture into the world of catering has not been entirely plain sailing. I have nobody to blame but myself for this, as I was insistent that Agatha took time out from her pursuance of all things thespian in order to help me. This was by no means an easy feat, as she has in the past few weeks fallen under the spell of a frightful imbecile by the name of St Clement. This ghastly wretch has filled Agatha’s head with fanciful notions regarding her theatrical ambitions, and has no doubt made attempts to occupy other parts of her body too. I fear the worst in this regard and urge you to intervene in some manner.

Aunt Daphne sends her regards, and hopes that your expedition into the unmapped interior of Africa is proceeding as well as can be expected. Why she believes you to be on an expedition I cannot fathom, as I have made it clear to her on more than one occasion that you are a resident of Dundee, and have been for some six years. You know how she can be, Ernesto, mere facts are not permitted to distort her perception of the world and it is to be remarked upon how much worse she has become since the death of Uncle Thomas. Mother has become her ally in senility, and together they are indeed a force with which to reckon. Their most recent exploits have seen the complete destruction of the vegetable gardens, allegedly in the pursuit of “the fabled turquoise mole of Stuttgart”.  The bill for the hire of the digging contraptions alone is liable to bankrupt me.

In addition to this wanton destruction, I received a letter this last Tuesday morning advising me that the estate (for which I am legally responsible) is now at war with Lichtenstein and to expect “repercussive admonishments of the most krule (sic) nature”. This letter, as I am sure you have already surmised, is written in a style of handwriting that most resembles the perambulations of a drunken spider with green ink on its feet. Combine this with the use of lavender scented notepaper, and it is clear that the bent minds of Mother and her sister are at work here.

Now to matters pertaining to business. Our mutual friend at the Polish embassy has confirmed that all arrangements are now in place regarding the final shipment. Thank you for your endeavours in this regard; it is clear that your powers of persuasion are not to be underestimated. We may expect some terse communication from our erstwhile colleagues in Latvia, but I am confident that any action on their part will be small beer and easily confined. “Bart” also advises me that generous gifts, acknowledging our part in this enterprise, have already been despatched and yours will shortly be arriving in Dundee for collection. I am delighted to recount that mine arrived this very morn, and is currently upstairs getting undressed.

And so I must take my leave. Certain pressures below the waist prevent me from concentrating on this letter for much longer and my vision is already beginning to blur.

I remain, your loving brother

Frimley