No 58 - At Rest In St Conan's Kirk

                                                                                
    At Rest in St Conan’s Kirk     

The picture has nothing to do with the story but Tamsin lives up the road a bit

The boarders were quite pampered and if I told you the fees Denham Hall College charged our parents you will understand why. Textbooks are supplied free to students, uniforms mended and/or dry cleaned; hems lengthened, even ties and hats replaced if lost. I thought my gentle readers might like to know that before I start.

The last lesson of the day was Mr Crisis’s science lesson. He told us he gets messages telepathically from his family who reside on Zeta Reticuli. Hang on I tell a lie, it is Epsilon Boötis. They keep him posted on family events and stuff.

He says his pet animal is feeling quite depressed, like down in the mouth sort of thing, and not at all himself. By all accounts he has now lost all three of his squeaky balls.

I am sure some of my readers are aware on Epsilon Boötis one’s pet can converse with their owners, or so Mr Crisis says.

Look, I won’t divulge the animals name, firstly as it would be a pointless exercise to do so, and secondly remaining incognito at least it gives the animal some semblance of anonymity.

I have had quite a few thumbs up for my blog, well at least two. Tamsin’s blog is collecting a few followers as well and her stories are making sense at last, somewhat like mine.

It is Friday night and this evening Nathan's folk group ‘The Sheriff’s Men’ had been booked to do a gig in the hall next to the Rickmansworth Baptist Church Twilight Years Nursing Home….for the Aged.

So from Tamsin’s point of view she was safe and Nathan was off the streets for the evening. No, it’s not that Nathan is a threat to Tamsin; I think Tamsin is just nervous of boys which I know is hard to believe, some might say even laughable. Though on second thoughts it could be the game that has been played out down through the ages by the two differing species.

Well she is almost 16 years of age now for heaven’s sake. Mother once said I was a philosopher, father is not in agreement and says, on the contrary, I exhibit disturbing thought patterns. I am not sure who is right as regarding fantasies or disturbing thoughts…… I might harbour.

Anyways I told mother I have made my relationship quite clear on numerous occasions with the stable lad, what’s his name, Andrew someone or other who my mother says has taken a ‘shine’ to me and despite what mother thinks no relationship exists. So he and mother can forget all about the ‘shine’ stuff. It’s not going to happen.

Nathan did ask me to ask the other girls to come to the gig at the nursing home…for the aged, to get the numbers up a bit. Anyways it was Charlotte, that’s Charlotte Patterson, who I told you her mother is an actress, she is not famous or anything like that, that’s her mother I am referring to. No, I think she only does commercials for hair, toenails and dewaxing ears and stuff like but she is on TV a lot.

Where was I going with this? Oh yes, Charlotte goes to the Rickmansworth Table Tennis club so this evening Nathan asked her to entice some of the members of her club along to his gig also to make up the numbers.

Nathan also asked Rhonda if she would lead a sing-a-long with the ‘clients’ at the nursing home. Rhonda Appleton does not have a good voice and did not even make the cut for the college choir but readily agreed as there were no chance of drunks blowing raspberries at her and free coffees were in the offing for payment.

Rhonda led a lovely sing-a-long with many old-time favorites like the ‘Daisy, Daisy’, ‘Don’t Fence Me In’ and ‘Que Sera Sera’. Finally before finishing up with ‘You Are My Sunshine’. I must add “The Sheriff’s Men’s” musical abilities shone. I suspect it was because most of the songs consisted only of three chords.

I think Rhonda will be asked back again next week.

Later in the evening as I walked into the dorm, I again wondered if I had slipped into someone else’s dream.

As I entered Elspeth was asking Rebecca to ‘Thay thumthing in German’.

Elspeth has a lithp, sorry a lisp.

Rebecca replied “No Elspeth I would rather not, if you don’t mind”.

“Oh go on Rebecca, pleeth pleeth” urged Elspeth excitedly, egged on by Tamsin.

You see we learn Latin, Italian and French in college but not German. There was one exception like when on prize-giving night the Marchioness of Cirencester awarded Eustasia Alexopulos, the daughter of the Greek ambassador, a commendation for her keen grasp of the Greek language.

Well the truth is Rebecca’s knowledge of the German language is extremely limited through watching only old war movies. She especially liked the movie Colditz. By all accounts her grandfather was a prisoner of war for a while.

After some encouragement from the other girls Rebecca reluctantly agreed to Elspeth’s request to ‘thay thumthing in German’ . She replied ‘ I don’t speak German very well ’. That dear reader was a masterpiece of understatement.

She paused, that’s Rebecca, firstly distorting her face before saying in a pretend deep guttural voice,

“Vee haf vays of making you tork”.

What followed can be best described as a stunned silence, born of a moment of incredulity by the listeners of Rebecca’s translation of the German language. I thought I heard a whispered, stifled swear word before Elspeth holding her stomach slowly sank down on her knees, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably, tears streaming down her cheeks laughing hysterically, pounding up and down on the floor with her fists.

Looking down at Elspeth and choosing her words extremely carefully and in a slow measured response (whatever that means), Rebecca irritably snapped, at the same time moving her head side to side like she does “It’s not that funny Elspeth. I have only just started learning German”.

As I wrote earlier, I sometimes wonder if this is all just a dream; like someone else’s.

Well that’s Friday over with.

Tamsin was again our guest for the weekend. I did suggest to Tamsin she should go home more often as her parents might not recognize her now she is getting older, and when she knocks on her door of the ‘Grange’, her parent’s house, her mother might think she is just a homeless person looking for a free meal and cheap lodgings for the night.

On Sunday Andrew the stable lad, you know the one I was telling you about earlier, will be driving me and Tamsin to her home, the old Presbytery at Loch Awe.

When we arrived at Inveraray Castle on the Saturday father and the Carter-Browns were socializing in the saloon. Mother said Mrs Dalrymple would be along later. The Carter-Brown’s pet fox Reynard must be really behaving itself. He was wearing a rhinestone collar, but he is not allowed to lie on the furniture. The very last thing they want is fleas annoying the tourists in the saloon.

There was a knock on the door. It was Mrs Dalrymple. Her fur boa always makes me think she is wearing a rabbit around her neck. Obviously I don’t mean a show rabbit, I mean a wild one.

I like Mrs Dalrymple. In fact I think the world needs people like her. I often think mother might be her alter ego. They both have a similar interest with the ‘other side’ or our ‘dear departed’ or ‘the dead’ as Tamsin likes to describe them.

She had no ouija board or tarot cards with her so I suspect tonight might be a bridge night. If we were to mobilize Mrs Pasta, the Italian kitchen lady, we can have two bridge tables going. Mrs Pasta need not go home she can stay the night. The Carter-Browns had bought Reynard’s bed with them, so any fleas he might shed can be contained to its own bed and not throughout the saloon.

Oh, and I must ask mother to get the piano tuned.

No 57 - Hobgoblins and stuff

                      

           

          Hobgoblins, Foul Fiends & Miss Pringle's Nuptials

Hot off the presses and confirmed by impeccable intelligence gathering it was Rebecca, that’s Rebecca Macleod, who discovered Miss Pringle is planning to leave Denham Hall to get married. I knew that would surprise you all. No-one is 100% sure of her age; no not Rebecca’s age but Miss Pringle’s age. Rebecca put her in her early forties and, as Tamsin commented, if she is planning to have children she will have to exhibit some sense of urgency here, or in other words speed should be of the essence.

When the news was about to be delivered to our headmistress Miss Sefton she was advised by Miss Pringle to take this news sitting down.

It was Tamsin who pointed out Miss Pringle had been with Denham Hall since it was given its charter by King George II in 1750 that would make Miss Pringle about 269 years old. It is Tamsin being silly again. Anyway don’t hold your breath it will be a few weeks before for the big day.

Oh here is a bit of interest; did you know it was on her deathbed Lady Caroline told her sobbing husband George to remarry, to which he replied, ‘Non, j'aurai des maîtresses’. That is French.

Gentle readers it had nothing to do with mattresses. No it is French for ‘No, I shall have mistresses!’ but it was common knowledge that George already had mistresses during his marriage and he had kept his wife Caroline informed about them.

Did you also know they had nine children or that he fell dead while he was going number….er well it is immaterial, but he died using the toilet due to a heart attack? Now that is not all that common?

Rebecca told us Briggs the caretaker, come handyman, come dogsbody or whatever, was in Watford at the weekend when he saw Miss Pringle walking up the High Street with a male specimen of the opposite species outside of Cineworld, you know just up the road from the Côte D’azure Cafe…….for heavens sake near the florist for those of you that are unfamiliar with Watford High Street.

Now Miss Pringle is a woman of taste and impeccable breeding and interested in stuff like Nocturnes, Sonatas, Etudes and stuff so when Rebecca told us this male person and Miss Pringle were looking at the opening times of the movie Battle Star Galactica something did not ring true. After further questioning of Briggs he said they had only paused then moved on arm in arm and entered the Côte D’azure Cafe.

Can you understand now how easy it is for Rebecca to put her own slant on the news when she did not have the full facts before her? This is how wars start for heaven’s sake.

As an aside I always thought Miss Pringle, like Miss Frenzi and Miss Sefton, were professional spinsters.

I should add due to her impending nuptials Miss Pringle has been put on light duties. The girls are always making up stories and Miss Pringle is the current victim with the full disclosure of her impending nuptial’s being made public and on full display to the world, well to Boadicea dorm anyway. Anyways back to the real world.

We were in the school chapel singing the second chorus of ‘He Who Would True Valour See’ when Tamsin who loved this psalm, particularly the bit about hobgoblins, foul fiends and pilgrins’ leaned over and whispered “did you notice Miss Pringle has a new dress on? 'Praps it’s for her new man?”

She went on to whisper that the words of this psalm made pure sense and it should replace our national anthem. Rather than our lovely Queen having to scatter her enemies and confound them of their knavish tricks and stuff, she would also have no need to leave the palace just to crush the rebellious Scots, and heavens knows who this Marshal Wade person is, so its hobgoblins and foul fiends for our Tamsin. She had a point.

Charlotte told me it was Myfanwy, that’s Myfanwy Evans that threw up into the sugar bowl at lunchtime would you believe; yuk that’s disgusting. Nurse Mayo took her to the doctor in the high street who found nothing wrong with her, so discreet inquiries were made to discover if she had been smoking furtively around the college. She hadn’t. It must have been something her mother had concocted for the family over the weekend. Anyway it was nothing to do with the college kitchen, thank heavens.

No, it’s just that quite a while ago a Cynthia someone or other, no hang on it was Waghorn, yes Cynthia Waghorn, a girl who has since left college, was caught having a quiet fag behind the chapel by Miss Frenzi.

Anyways that’s neither here nor there. I wanted to say the Evans family own a large parcel of land in the Brecon’s and I wondered if she had digested toadstools mistaking them for mushrooms, that’s Myfanwy, not her mother. Tamsin went one better, as she always does, and suggested being Welsh maybe it was caused by eating a tainted rabbit used in the traditional Welsh cooking and that maybe the rabbit was sick or something.

I pointed out people ate rabbits during the war but not anymore. It was after Tamsin repeated that rabbit was a traditional Welsh meal did I realise she was referring to Welsh rarebit, not Welsh rabbit.

I spent the next 10 minutes or so explaining Welsh rarebit is basically melted cheese on toast, but one can jazz it up a bit with savoury sauce and other ingredients and cheese has nothing to do with rabbits. I hoped that put this conversation to bed. It did.

A new girl started today, Symphony Sexton which I thought was a rather strange name. Miss Frenzi put her in the Victoria dorm. Incidentally some of you may remember Beecham’s wife was also named Symphony.

I realise I have no need to repeat this but for my new readers Beecham was the Campbell family’s long-serving retainer who recently passed away. His wife still lives in the grace and favour cottage near the gatehouse, but I assume most of you knew that anyway.

Off-topic and on a note of frivolity, Tamsin pointed out if Symphony Sexton’s middle name was Olivia her initials would be then be S.O.S. Tamsin’s thought patterns are very strange. Well Symphony Sexton’s middle name is not Olivia; I will find out what it is for you, assuming she has a middle name and I will keep you all informed. In passing, Tamsin’s first name, hang on could be her second name, is Victoria but she does not like people to know that.

I realise this is all just idle gossip but I will bring you up to date as to the goings-on at the castle. It appears Mrs Dalrymple has applied to do an on-line course of Remote Viewing.

Because she has had little or no success making contact with our ‘dear departed’ or troubled spirits knocking on the woodwork and throwing stuff about in Inveraray Castle Mrs Dalrymple has applied to do a credited on-line course of ‘Remote Viewing’.

She was spurred on following some minor success after discovering that it was a Mr Tidy (his real name) a person from the garage who she saw tossing his fag ends in her garden but as she told mother she realises it was not strictly ‘remote viewing’ as she actually saw this felon discarding his dog ends from her bedroom window thus it does not legally qualify as ‘remote’ viewing. Nevertheless she said she is going to run with it, whatever that means.

Father took an interest in Mrs Dalrymple’s remote viewing, inquiring of her if it is possible to get the future price of his cryptocurrency movements. Mrs Dalrymple told father remote viewing does not tell the future but investigates the present but if he would he like to know if Bulgaria or Lithuania has nuclear weapons stockpiled she can try remote viewing for him. What can I say?

Be that as it may, its all happening at Inveraray

No 56 - The Scottish Dancer and Pianos

 The Scottish Dancer and Pianos

(I expect a written apology) 

Her brief was to find me a picture or draw a picture showing a loose connection between a Scottish dancer and a piano which is the subject of my story; nothing difficult there, is there? If this is the best she can do then ‘incompetence’ springs to mind and I wanted to make it public to my readers this unbelievable incompetence is not the result of MY work. Anyway even the Photoshop job is terrible and incidentally monkeys don’t play the piano.

I do apologize to my gentle readers; frankly I don’t know why I bother. I made a connection with some images people, professional persons who specialize in selling pictures to us authors and bloggers like myself. I suspect the lady I refer to was only masquerading as a specialist. Just look at it, it was either a scam or more to the point SHE HAS NO IDEA. ‘Prap’s she was being funny.

This futile exercise incidentally cost me 2 quid… well nearly.

Anyways to change the subject, some of you may have forgotten it was Blodwyn and Myfanwy Evans, the Evans twins, that had braces inserted in their mouths just after Christmas, and it was Candice that spoke of the trials and terrible self-loathing she had experienced when she too was subjected to this hideous tribal practice perpetrated on her by her parents. People used to look at her with pity or horror or both.

But on seeing the result of Blodwyn and Myfanwy’s teeth after having had their braces removed Candice said graciously that the braces had improved their appearance out of sight and had ‘given them the freedom and confidence they desperately sought’. I am not sure if that was a veiled compliment or not. She added they now have quote ‘awesome choppers’, that’s the Evans twins, not Candice. That is the sort of bad taste comment Zanthe would usually make.

You might be asking well what has this to do with Phaedra Gascoigne, well frankly nothing, but I was talking to Phaedra the other day about pianos and things and I pointed out that on Facebook people actually give pianos away for free. I suggested to Phaedra it is not unlike a thoughtless and uncaring action, like abandoning something that cannot fend for itself like a pet, yes or even a child.

I suggested to mother we could take advantage of this and put a piano in every room in Inveraray Castle… even in the tuckshop….. and the stables. At least it would give these orphan pianos a good home. She did not warm to the idea so I changed the subject.

Later I tried again; I suggested maybe the Castle manageress lady can play Scottish songs to the Japanese tourists passing through the tuckshop. If she cannot play the piano ‘praps she can give the bagpipes a go….or a sword dance; failing that a game of ‘Who am I’. For those of you that are not of Gaelic ancestry like myself the sword dance is called the Gillie Calliun.

Incidentally this was the point where my images person I had reserved was to shine, but just look at it. I am almost at the end of my tether. I told Tamsin it will give my blog a bad reputation with the other girls in the Boadicea dorm, people who know me as an unpublished author and people down at the folk club. Nevertheless the Castle Manageress still did not warm to my idea. I could always approach father I ‘spose.

I am still giving Tamsin piano lessons by the way. I heard Miss Frenzi telling her mother once she was a headstrong girl, that’s Tamsin not Miss Frenzi. I thought to myself that is a gross understatement.

Now where was I? Oh yes you won’t believe this but at college Miss Frenzi has bought herself a motor scooter. It is not a big one but it is quite noisy. It is a red one. At least we will always know when she is around and what times she gets back to her quarters in the evening as she noisily returns through the main gate. I cannot see her wearing leathers and joining a motor cycle club though.

Tamsin is returning to her home at the presbytery at Loch Awe at the weekend and I will stay with her and go home to Inveraray Castle on Sunday. I am looking forward to seeing Colonel Carter-Brown’s fox cub. Mother said he is teaching it to do tricks. Oh I must remind mother the piano is out of tune.

Colonel Carter-Brown’s gamekeeper went to the licensing office to see about a licence for Reynard the Fox. The man in the office said you need a licence for a dog but far as he is aware there is nothing in the rule book that says one needs one for a fox but that you can cull them if they are eating your sheep. I think it’s the licencing man’s first week in the job so they are taking advantage of his confusion. I told Rebecca about this anomaly and she asked ‘what about wolves?’ I said there are no wolves in Rickmansworth, well none that I am aware of.

I bet my gentle readers are not aware of this and I don’t know if this applies to foxes but dogs can suffer from Cognitive Dysfunction Syndrome or CDS, bet you did not know that. Our doctor, that’s Doctor McKenzie who practices in Inveraray High Street ….that's near the pub….. the George Hotel for heavens sake, the dog-friendly one, told us dogs also suffer from dementia like Uncle Smiley and forget their toilet training.

They, that’s dogs might just stare at a wall for no reason at all or head for the front door to relieve themselves and when they get there forget why they are there. Credit where credit is due Uncle Smiley is not that far gone. Anyhow wolves don’t suffer from dementia as far as I know.

As I told the girls in the Boadicea Dorm it is one reason why I advise them to check my blog regularly to pick up similar choice tips they won’t find anywhere else.

We will both leave for college on Monday morning.

Rumours on Monday coming from the front office are for plans for the continuance of the overseas student exchange programme. This was suspended a couple of years ago after a student exchange with French students from a school in Paris.

I remember it was catastrophe from the start and I don’t mind saying so. It started off orderly enough with 10 students from Boadicea and Victoria dorms in exchange with 10 students from the Sacré Cœur, a Catholic school in Paris for girls from Prep to Year 12; you know just up from the Avenue De Clichy. It mattered not that it was a Catholic school as the purpose was to improve our knowledge of the French language.
The Denham Hall girls were housed in student accommodation near the school and Miss Pringle was housed in the hotel Legendre, a hotel nearby.

It was a two-week course at the Ecole Sacre-Coeur Private School at Rue Dautancourt, you know across the road from the Supermarket.

During the day Miss Pringle went shopping and sightseeing around the streets of Paris and in between lessons we socialized with the French students. In the afternoon after college we returned to our lodgings.

It was then Naomi Brideau was discovered missing. It appears after school she visited some distant relatives who lived nearby who had friends staying with them who were on a caravanning holiday.

While their caravan was parked on the road Naomi, being nosey, went inside the caravan to have a look around, and that is when the caravan took off with her inside.

Naomi frantically waved through the window to try and attract attention but it made little difference though the little girl next door did manage to wave back. Our Naomi was on a one-way trip to the French Riviera via the Lower Cornice. She told us on her return it was her first trip to the South of France. Naomi was discovered by the owners of the caravan as they pulled in for a comfort stop at Saint Etienne and the school was notified via the police.

The student exchange this year is not set in stone.
 
                                          Miss Pringle really gets looked after; this was her hotel in Paris    

   

and this is a photo of the French Gentleman on the front desk that I told you about 

that Miss Pringle said really looked after her, which was nice..

No 55 - The French Kiss

            

         The French Kiss

            I do apologize for the picture: I don’t know what came over me.

I meant to tell you, last week most of the girls from the Boadicea dorm went down to the Rickmansworth Folk Club in the High Street. That’s me, Tamsin, Phaedra, Candice, Zanthe, and Jessica, Rebecca that’s Rebecca Macleod, Charlotte and Tiffany. I think Elspeth was there also.

Hang on look I won’t list the names of all the girls but anyway later on during the evening Nathan just happened to be sitting next to Tamsin. I knew Candice, that’s Candice Robertson was up to something. She had been in a conspiratorial mode whispering with Rebecca since we came in.

A while later she, that’s Candice, leaned over and whispered to Nathan that it was Tamsin’s birthday which was a lie incidentally. She was up to something, trouble making.

You might remember I wrote an article about Tamsin’s birthday just recently. I wish Candice wouldn’t do things like this. She can be a real pain at times. I suspect Rebecca had a hand in this ruse also. She must have guessed what would happen and poor Tamsin was to be the victim.

Anyways on hearing the news from Candice, I don’t know what came over Nathan. It was not so much a birthday kiss he was about to deliver to Tamsin, you know like a light brush or a gentle caress with his lips across Tamsin's cheek to celebrate her birthday.

No, Candice said he leaned over and gave Tamsin a full-on French kiss, like his wet tongue down her throat and everything, the whole works. You know like what a dog would do.

Later I found out on very good authority from Candice, it was also Tamsin’s very first one, French kiss that is.

I tell a lie, I did not personally witness the ‘moment of impact’ as Candice put it but after this vile act there was a short pause, followed by a muted scream, whatever that is.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand there was a pregnant pause while Tamsin choosing her words extremely carefully screamed: “Er Yuk Nathan. You are a totally disgusting creature”.

Off-topic, I am thinking of writing a book.

I thought she was about to sick up. Anyways it was quite a frightening thing to do particularly when Tamsin was ill-prepared for it.

This will be the talk of the Boadicea dorm for quite a while.

I cannot think of a more revolting act, can you? I thought for a moment they would throw Nathan out of the club, but as he was the leader of ‘The Sheriffs Men’ and his group was due to go on stage next, they just gave him a ‘verbal warning’ I think it’s called.

 No, this is NOT Nathan. Fact is it doesn’t even look anything like him.
Besides Tamsin is older than this girl.

Look I only showed you this photo of Daphne and her brother Adrian from the village as it was taken on her 14th Birthday which must have been taken over three years ago now and if shown to Nathan earlier it would have given him a clue as to where and how to approach Tamsin and where it all went wrong.

Anyway, that’s Nathan for you, a stag in wolf’s clothing or something like that.

Nathan’s mother was right when she warned us a long time ago ‘to keep a respectable distance when you are around my son’. In fact Tiffany who knows Nathan’s family told us Nathan’s mother tells people who are not family that he is adopted, but she is known to make things up, Tiffany that is.

After Tamsin’s disgusting blog about monsters roaming the corridors of Denham Hall after lights out and of the ensuing panic it caused among the juniors because of her opening words “This is a true story” Miss Sefton has ordered her in future to preface any horror stories of this disturbing nature with this is NOT a true story.

By putting in a disclaimer at the end of a story reading ‘Zanthe reckons it IS a true story’ Tamsin is fooling no-one, especially Miss Sefton and anyways Zanthe never said that.

Now for a change of pace; the Evans twins’ that’s Blodwyn and Myfanwy asked me to remember them to my readers. Their parents have taken them to London to take part in a Welsh Cultural Festival. You know dancing and stuff. I suppose they will also be trying to speak to one another in Welsh all evening. How on earth they are going to understand each other is beyond me. They can always revert to English I suppose.

It was the last school period on Friday afternoon as the senior girls filed into the concert hall for a talk by a lady about life after Denham Hall and to take questions from the students as to their plans for the future. This was tried once before by Miss Frenzi and if my memory serves me right was not a roaring success. I think most of them were living in a dream world, the girls not Miss Frenzi.

Typical questions were like, ‘how to become a burlesque dancer or circus performers’ which I thought were stupid questions and Tamsin is still obsessed about becoming a container ship captain.

The careers lady kept the discussion short realizing very early in the piece she was being confronted by the same problem Miss Frenzi encountered, in that some of the girls needed to take their heads out of the clouds. There was not a huge demand for burlesque dancers, fire-eating circus performers or, as one girl asked, possible openings for professional tightrope walkers.

At this point in our lives, further education was not all that attractive but good times were. This last period of the day was kept short; I suspect the careers lady was asked to come back next year.

The warm sunshine embraced us as we collected our bags and noisily emerged from the classrooms. That was Friday over with, now what are we going to do with the rest of our lives?

Tamsin and I were not going home this weekend. Mother rang to say father was going into Edinburgh to continue to wind up his other business interests as he is still in the process of retiring. This should please Colonel Carter-Brown and his wife Lady Rowena at Ruthin Castle as they will be able to socialize with us a little more.

It should not affect Mrs Dalrymple and mother’s friendship in any way for their search for ‘our dear departed’ who are now residing on the ‘other side’. Father’s retirement will not cause a hiccup there.

The stable lad Andrew who had taken a shine to me as mother described it, had been asking after me. The last time this subject came up I told mother to tell him I was promised. Mother had inquired “who to?” I replied it is not important. It’s immaterial and anyways I had gone right off of boys, well for a while that is.

Tamsin will also not be going home at the weekend.

I guess Saturday night will be spent in the Rickmansworth Folk Centre in the high street. Nathan the leader of the group ‘The Sheriff’s Men’ will be there so Tamsin will need to keeps her wits about her at all times.

Mr Crisis who you should all know by now comes from Zeta Reticuli, I believe its Number Two because Number One I think is its Sun and Number Two is the orbiting Planet, if that makes any sense, or is he from Epsilon Boötis?

Mr Crisis explained all this to us and the headmistress Miss Sefton when he first arrived and was offered the position of science teacher but we found it too much information to take in at once.

He told us he got separated from a Discovery Tour group that was dimension-hopping and ended up here.

Anyways he has joined the Dr Who Club in Watford. His membership badge arrived in the front office the other day. Oh, and he also joined a UFO spotters group in Hemel Hempstead.

No 54 - Tamsin and the Ginger Thing

                    Dennis Carlsson

   Tamsin and the Ginger Thing

or  Myrtle The Monster

Tamsin wrote in her blog, ‘It was gingerish in colour. A thing of almost indescribable, unspeakable horror. A foul smelling, featureless creature with what appeared to have maggots crawling all over its head as it left an unknown, yellowish sticky sort of substance on the tiles as it slithered slowly along the corridor between the Victoria and Pankhurst dorms late that night’.

She continued ‘The acrid smell was overpowering and flakes of what looked like skin were falling.... Oh God, I cannot read any more of this. As I read Tamsin’s story I shouted out “Er Yuk Tamsin that’s gross. That is truly disgusting”.

What triggered all this was after reading my blog Tamsin said she was going to write some of her own stuff. If she had not started her first article with the words ‘THIS IS A TRUE STORY’ and made copies of the article titled ‘The Ginger Thingy’ and posted it all around the college and in the Folk Club in town, it would have remained just fantasy but she is pushing it as fact.

Tamsin has a fertile imagination but stone the crows, Miss Sefton is going to have to step in after two terrified junior girls reckon they saw this ‘ginger thingy’ and could not get to the toilets quick enough; you know the toilets next to Pankhurst, the junior dorm and as they say, the rest is history.

I know it does not exist; well I don’t know for certain but I don’t think it does. Myfanwy, that’s Myfanwy Evans one of the Evans twins, said she was staring straight into its red bloodshot eyes when it just went ‘poof’ and disappeared, her words. Maybe she experienced a mild rush of hormonal stuff who knows. It is serious enough an event for Nurse Mayo to have it checked out. It is also beginning to frighten the girls.

I sometimes think her general behaviour might be a genetic anomaly, that’s Tamsin not Nurse Mayo but this speculation must be refuted as her parents appear to be upstanding, God-fearing, Christian people with impeccable testimonials and are pillars of society and as I pointed out in another article her father even plays the clarinet.

Anyways the girls are so convinced this creature exists that Miss Sefton was going to ask Briggs if he would kindly set up a camp bed and sleep in the corridor for a couple of nights to convince the girls this creature does not exist but unfortunately Briggs was on annual leave.

It was Nurse Mayo doing the death rounds as she called them, or the late-night check of the dorms before going to bed, when there was a scream. No the scream was not from Nurse Mayo but young Naomi, that’s Naomi Brideau who was heading for the toilets and speed was of the essence. Well the story I heard was she did not make it, but dear readers that is another story.

Anyhow Nurse Mayo discovered on taking her to the infirmary that she was found to be suffering from food poisoning which I assume was causing a fever and was possibly causing her to hallucinate. She was rambling on about a creature with ‘huge bloodshot eyes and exhibiting an evil smell’. Yes she too had been reading Tamsin’s blog.

I told father about Tamsin’s stories and he said if her stories were that believable then she must be a convincing writer. Giving credit where credit is due I could not argue with that however I told father that may all be well and good but she is causing some consternation around the college with this ‘ginger thing’.

Miss Sefton the headmistress, on discovering the origin of the ‘Ginger Thing’ pulled Tamsin aside and congratulated her on her stories but suggested in the future she refrain from starting any future stories with THIS IS A TRUE STORY in a college full of young impressionable teenagers.

Briggs came back off of leave and was relieved of all duties while he agreed to sleep in the dorm corridors during the night hours for a week. There was no ‘indescribable, unspeakable ‘ginger thingy’. It is just a figment of Tamsin’s fertile imagination.

I did suggest to Tamsin it might have helped if she had given this thingy a name the readers could like associate with, perhaps a name like Myrtle the Monster then it would appear to be less threatening and/or foreboding.

Anyways to change the subject I was telling Charlotte, that’s Charlotte Patterson, the golden rule for Rolls Royce motor car passengers is to refrain from opening the car’s doors from the inside, one waits until a door is opened for them by the chauffeur or a retainer.

Father has a 1965 Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud, number three I think it is, but he drives it himself. You won’t believe this but they come in heaps and heaps of different colours.

I heard father telling Colonel Carter-Brown spares are not all that readily obtainable. Beecham used to do the maintenance but since his untimely demise a little man in Edinburgh has taken over that job.

Mother has a Morris Minor motor car, a green one, a deluxe version, it has a wireless and a heater in it and everything. She prefers smaller cars as she does not drive very much other than driving herself and Mrs Dalrymple around.

A bit of gossip for my gentle readers: it was Debra, Debra Buckingham, who applied to Miss Franklin the music teacher, or Lulu as she is affectionately known to the girls, to join the college string orchestra hoping to learn to play the bass guitar. She talks about riffs, slides, hammer-on and playing up the neck and stuff. I smell encouragement here from Nathan the leader of the local folk group the ‘The Sheriffs Men’.

Miss Franklin said sternly “Debra I do not teach the bass guitar”.

She added I also do not teach the bagpipes, the aeolian pipes or the pipes of pan and, what’s more if you want to learn any of these instruments Debra you will have to learn ex-curriculum at the music shop in the high street.

She also pointed out classical composers like Brahms, Mozart, Bach and others did not write music for such instruments.

By the way if there is any confusion it was Miss Franklin that was known as Lu Lu not Debra.

I overheard Charlotte asking personal questions of Tamsin like ‘Do you have a regular boy-friend Tamsin?’

Tamsin replied tersely “No Charlotte I don’t. What I do have though are Boy-Friends” with hard emphasis on the plural.

That makes sense I ‘spose. This news might come as a disappointment to Nathan though who no doubt still thinks he is currently the front-runner in that department. Even Elspeth spurned him, poor Nathan.

No, Tamsin is her own person, whatever that means.

No 53 - Miss Polly's Academy of Dance

 

Miss Polly’s academy of excellence; Happy Feet

Junior Class

Miss Frenzi was explaining the rudiments of algebra when Tamsin whispered “Why are we learning this stuff if we are going to be dancers when we leave college?” Actually, that comment was a continuation of a conversation we previously had discussing taking dance lessons at Miss Polly’s Dance Academy of Excellence, Happy Feet in Watford.

It was the high kicking that appealed to me, you know burlesque stuff. Miss Polly also taught classical ballet and tap dancing. Fortunately, she did not teach hip hop, jitterbugging, people spinning on their heads and foreign dancing like cha cha, rhumba, paso doble and stuff. We could have both joined a gym, an assault course or the S.A.S if that is what we were looking for.

Miss Polly said before we learned the rudiments of ballet and the 5 basic feet positions we had to learn to ‘walk properly’.

After putting my costume and my ballet shoes on and not wanting to appear catty, I was concerned Tamsin looked a bit heavy on her feet to be a dancer. No doubt she was thinking the same thing about me.

Anyways, as I held onto the barre with my left hand and raised myself up onto the balls of my feet and delicately extended my right arm like a droopy, tired albatrosses’ wing, Tamsin who was standing behind me whispered that I looked more like a baby elephant learning to walk for the first time.

I suppose she thinks that is amusing.

At the end of the lesson, my feet and ankles were really tired. I just wanted to sit down. What was even more disturbing was that I found out there were more than 5 feet positions. We had actually paid money for this.

I have had enough of ballet; perhaps Miss Polly will teach us burlesque and high kicking or even tap dancing and other stuff, or even formation dancing which might be difficult with only two of us and stuff like that next week. We will give Miss Polly one more chance though.

Tamsin and I were not going home for the weekend so this evening 6 of us was going to the folk club in the high street. Rebecca, Tamsin, Phaedra, Candice that’s Candice Robertson, Rhonda and me. On arriving at the folk club we found Nathan full of himself.

He could not wait to show us a picture of his folk group “The Sheriff’s Men” which was featured on the front page of the Watford Observer alongside a photo of a trampoline team representing the Royal Masonic School for Girls who were to take part in a trampoline competition somewhere or other.

Nathan’s latest girlfriend, the one he recently broke up with, what’s her name Tara O'Flaherty or was it Sarah O’Flattery, certainly wasn’t Tiffany, is also in the RMS team, no doubt carrying the extra weight advantage needed to hold the trampoline/s down.

I cannot remember too much about that evening other than Nathan announcing that the first number of the evening would be ‘Where had all the Flowers Gone’’ for the oldies. I groaned. Candice surmised ‘surely by this late hour of 7pm all the oldies would have been at home, with their teeth in a glass, in bed with their bed caps on, for heaven’s sake’.

I did tell Nathan once that Peter, Paul, and Mary do not perform anymore. Perhaps he should invite Elton John round sometime.

Rhonda promised she would not get up on the stage and sing as she did on the last visit. You may remember a drunk was blowing strawberries at her. Hang on perhaps it was raspberries and was ejected; the drunk, not Rhonda.

I am not sure where I am going with this story as Rhonda did not get up on the stage to sing, no-one was thrown out, the kitchen did not run out of malted milk and Nathan told us he had learned a new chord. It was an E. Hang on I, tell a lie. It was E minor.

I should add Tamsin was on her best behavior hoping to catch the eye of Gregory…. er thingy that collects the money at the door. That was Saturday night taken care of.

Those boarders who were staying in the college over the weekend were required to attend Pastor Dickie’s Sunday morning church service in the school chapel. In the afternoon some of the girls watched television, others played table tennis in the games room or read in the library. Any or all of which were better offers than watching a CD of The Terminator with Tamsin.

Monday morning and Mr Crisis was taking science for the first lesson of the day. I thought he might touch on the Beginner's Guide to Quantum Physics, I hear a lot of talk about it these days. You may remember I told you once he applied for the job of science teacher when Miss Cribb resigned to get married.

The girls reckon Miss Sefton the headmistress only employed him only because she thought he was homeless, but I never believed that. He told us in confidence he was from Zeta One Reticuli. Hang I tell a lie, it was Zeta Two Reticuli. No, it was Epsilon Bootis.

Look it’s unimportant, neither here nor there. He also said life on this planet was a hologram so I asked him “Where am I then?” He replied ’’in the classroom Bridgette but it is not true reality”.

I was confused, even perplexed. Candice noted I had a frown on my face for the whole of the afternoon.

I think I may have mentioned a long time ago that Rhonda, my third best friend, received food parcels from her parents. She is still receiving regular food parcels. I remember at the time thinking perhaps this generosity was atonement by her parents who mistakenly thought they had accidentally booked their daughter into a Russian gulag. Well, it wasn’t as I found out later. She just has a vicious appetite.

It was the end of the month, ‘Uniform Day’. Normally the shop was open three days a week. It was also responsible for ordering new uniforms for the students, the repair of and the exchange of said uniforms. The exchange option was for girls who were growing quicker than anticipated. None actually shrank. Excuse my levity it’s been a long day. This arrangement suited mother as she never learned to sew.

I would like to add my sister Bridie never learned to sew before I came along, except I never did have a sister.

Tomorrow I will ring mother. Oh I must mention about the piano.

No 52 - Charlotte's Letter

                                                                                                                  

     Charlotte’s Letter

  

Look, I don’t want to make a big song and dance about this so I will get to the point. You might remember mother took in Mrs Rutherford’s cat when she sold the bakery. The cat was to keep the mice down in the ‘Bakers Dozen’, the name of her shop in Inveraray Village. Not that she was particularly troubled with vermin but Mrs Rutherford said she used to see the odd mouse.

Why some mice appeared odd and others didn’t defeats me and I regret never asking her to explain.

Anyway, she called the cat Lorraine, the name of her sister, which I thought was a silly name for a cat and I was going to change it to Pollyanna but as Tamsin pointed out it won’t recognize its new name if it was changed at this late stage, so it was stuck with Lorraine.

I will get to the point in just a moment. At Inveraray Castle, we are not troubled with mice although squirrels in the roof are somewhat of a nuisance.

It all started when Lorraine the cat (I hate using that name) brought in a dead mouse one weekend when I was home and Tamsin, Charlotte and Phaedra were staying over.

Tamsin pointed out “the cat had only brought the mouse into the castle because it was dead, like out of respect”.

Phaedra noted, “It is more than likely the cat, that’s Lorraine, killed it and had brought it into the castle to show off.”

Tamsin broke in “Because there was no blood on the mouse, it must have died of a heart attack or maybe a stroke”.

Now that makes perfect sense, but there again I don’t know for certain if mice are prone to heart attacks brought on by the narrowing of the arteries or lack of exercise and things of that nature. It certainly did not appear that its demise was brought on by a stroke or even suddenly reaching old age. Nevertheless, I felt very sorry for the mouse.

I suggested to Tamsin “Why don’t we bury it and send it to Valhalla or wherever mice go on death with some vestige of dignity”.

We were both in agreement.

Mother suggested we just put it in the garden and mentioned words like compost and rotting. I shuddered.

Father had no interest in the mouse whatsoever which I thought was rather strange as he really likes finches and ferrets and things.

Tamsin suggested if it were to be sent on its way with dignity, it deserves a name. Names like Mickey and Maurice were suggested. We mulled this over for a while and decided giving it a name at this late stage was a bit silly so we did not proceed with that idea. I reminded Tamsin it was her idea in the first place.

We reached a consensus on the mouse’s funeral arrangements. As we stood on the bank of Loch Fyne I turned to father and quietly whispered “Father please feel free to launch the mouse on its watery journey” he declined.

It was Tamsin who finally launched the mouse in an empty plastic bottle …... er the mouse was in the bottle not Tamsin, from the banks of Loch Fyne just in front of Inveraray Castle with myself, Charlotte, mother and father also in attendance.

There was no formal farewell as such but we gazed silently with sad hearts as it floated gently down the loch. It goes without saying it would take quite a while for Mickey, or whoever, to reach the open sea.

About 2 years later I think it was, on a beautiful calm, cloudless sunny day with little or no wind if I remember, we received the news that the mouse had made landfall off the east coast of Canada.

Included in the plastic bottle had been a lovely handwritten note by Charlotte saying the mouse had no name but would be sorely missed, by whom she didn’t say, and other comments like ‘Now resting in God’s care’ and a couple of words of French she knew, like ‘Bon Voyage’.

The story made the Canadian National News and was warmly applauded by the animal rights people. The news said the mouse was eventually buried with the dignity and respect it deserved and frankly that’s all we asked for.

As an aside and being brutally honest, although Charlotte’s farewell letter was OK, I didn’t think it was ALL that great but Charlotte reckons she was good on obits, so be it.

It was suggested by father it would have been much kinder if they had put a couple of holes in the plastic bottle first before sending the mouse down the loch then it would have reached Valhalla much earlier. Mother was still talking about the garden and compost and things.

Now for some other news I wanted to tell you about. Mother and Mrs Dalrymple have taken up an interest in hypnotism which makes a change of trying to make contact with ‘our dear departed’ which neither of them was making much headway with.

It was Mrs Dalrymple who talked mother into doing an online course of hypnotism, probably explains why she is fondly known by the locals as the mad lady. Nothing Mrs Dalrymple does surprises me anymore.

This was going to be very interesting.

I said “Mother, don’t rely on Mrs Dalrymple too much. You should make sure if it’s possible by getting advice from the hypnotist people or practicing in front of a mirror as you could find yourself in a permanent trance-like state without knowing it”.

That was not the extent of my worry as I heard Mrs Dalrymple discussing with mother that they could probably practice together putting each other under at the same time. The problem as I saw it was if they were successful they would not even know they were in a trance.

It was the glazed eyes of Mrs Dalrymple that gave me the first clue, coupled with her unusual behaviour like stroking the back of mothers hand at the dinner table and again in the garden, and asking ‘are you getting sleepy’, that something had gone awry with the hypnotist thing.

I asked mother what had taken place during the hypnotism practice. She said she can’t remember much other than she has this urge to bark and chase cars all the time.

Oh No, this was an emergency thing!

We may have to seek the help of Mrs Pasta, the Italian kitchen lady, for some advice. She reckons she is psychic and sometimes aids as a back-up when mother and Mrs Dalrymple are endeavoring to establish contact with ‘our dear departed’.

Mrs Pasta sat both Lady Delilah, that’s mother, and Mrs Dalrymple on chairs in front of her in the saloon and removing a necklace with a small cross from around her neck swung it back and fore in front of them and intoned “you are getting sleepy, you are getting sleepy, you are….. etc. etc.”.

My thoughts were “Oh God here we go again”...

No 51 - Beecham's Passing

           

    sT. cONAN'S kIRK    

         (Beecham’s passing R.I.P) 

The more astute and/or keenly observant of my gentle readers might note this is NOT a photo of Inveraray Castle but the Kirk at Loch Awe. In addition, for those of you out there that Scottish Gaelic is not your first language, translated it reads as LOCH AWE CHURCH and it just happens to be up the road from my best friend Tamsin’s house.

Actually, Tamsin asked me to head this with a picture of her home, the old Presbytery at Loch Awe. I told her I had already given the presbytery exposure when I headed another article with a picture of her house. I said unless her parents were going to put their house on the market, once is enough. My blog is not a property marketing machine.

I reminded her that a particular article was titled ‘Putting Rumours to Rest’ and I had titled the article with a picture of her home reading ‘Tamsin’s Home; Awe Grange Presbytery’. I cannot do more than that.

Anyways that piece of information may not be all that important if it does not concern you.

To bring you all up to date the fire drill was scheduled this morning at exactly 10am for the all of Denham Hall college students. Briggs and Nurse Mayo were to lead the permanent boarders out of the dormitories. The fire was staged to have started in the college kitchens.

Tamsin questioned, “Do fires normally start ON the hour as a rule and, if not why doesn't the college arrange to start the fire at say 22 minutes past the hour or even two minutes to the hour. You know what I mean, just to surprise us girls”.

Tamsin is in fine form this morning.

Fleetingly I thought one day when Tamsin leaves college her parents or future husband, heaven forbid, are going to have to put up with this stuff full time.

Tamsin continued saying it would have been far more realistic and exciting if the college had hired a couple of the Rickmansworth’s fire engines with the sirens blaring and had firemen actually reeling out hoses and climbing ladders and things. She is practical, I must say.

I sometimes wonder when Tamsin is being really serious or when not. She went on to say extra realism could be added by starting a small fire in a dustbin next to Nurse Mayo’s quarters outside the swing doors at the end of the Pankhurst dormitory.

She said there would be no need to use real water. The firemen only need to pretend to use real water by making water noises by going ‘Shhhhh’ pretending to hose the front of the building down. You know, like doing pretend water noises.

I explained to Tamsin this was not going to be the making of a full-length documentary but a fire drill and the girls will just be congregating at a pre-determined point where Briggs will lead them quietly out of the building.

I have some disturbing news for Mr and Mrs Lacey, Tamsin’s parents, she won't change.

But I do have some good news for my gentle readers, the drill went off without a hitch and all the girls were evacuated safely from the building and were all accounted for at a roll call in the quadrangle.

The drill also took care of an hour of ancient history.

Now, where was I? It was Saturday and I was back at home at Inveraray Castle. Tamsin my best friend had gone home to the presbytery and we were meeting again the next day. On Monday morning we would be driven by Andrew to Oban to catch an executive jet courtesy of father, and ferried back to Stansted aerodrome in time for lessons at Denham Hall on Monday morning. This was the typical routine of my weekends.

You may remember I mentioned earlier the comedy of mother and Mrs Dalrymple’s efforts to do an online hypnotist course which did not work out too well for either of them. I did warn them of what could happen. I explained all this in a previous article.

I thought that was the end of the matter until Mrs Pasta, the Italian kitchen lady told me that tourists arriving this week could avail themselves of a lecture ‘Banishment of Ghosts and Wraiths’, a one-off session, informing them of the castle’s resident ghosts.

Personally, I could not see the point as Inveraray Castle, at the last score, has at least 6 in-house permanent ghosts which is a great draw-card for tourists anyway. Not that the wraiths and ghosts appears on cue but banishing them would be self-defeating, in that it would see a huge drop in tourist numbers.

I did not hesitate to alert the castle manageress lady, hoping she would speak to father and inform him what is going on and to advise Mrs Pasta, Mrs Dalrymple and his wife Lady Delilah, that’s mother, to put an immediate halt to this trio’s adventures.

The intervention of father made no difference. Lady Delilah makes the rules in this castle thank you very much. Nevertheless putting father’s concern at rest I explained to him it probably did not matter as they had made no headway with their online hypnotist course either. Father was placated.

It was Sunday morning and I was at Tamsin Lacey’s home at the Old Presbytery at Loch Awe. When we entered the study her father was busily cataloging his cigarette card collection. Mrs Lacey inquired if we would like a glass of lemonade and a muffin.

It was in the afternoon, we heard the sad news Beecham, the family retainer at home, had died. He had been with us since like forever, as had his father before him. He was ‘family’ also. He was my special friend when I was growing up; to me he was Uncle Beecham. They used to live in the gate-house until the stairs got too difficult to navigate.

His death did not come as a surprise. He had been ill for a short time. His wife Symphony told mother he had died peacefully in his sleep. Funeral arrangements had already commenced. Father said Symphony can continue to live in the grace and favour residence permanently.

I wonder if the ‘bagpiper’ had been heard playing when he passed away.

Tamsin’s home, the Awe Presbytery was within walking distance of Saint Conan’s Kirk which was just up the road from the Corrie Bank bed and breakfast so we decided to walk to St Conan’s and take photos for our Facebook pages. I don’t think they do brass rubbings or stuff like that.

Passing the sign reading ‘St. Conan’s Kirk, Historic Building’ I wondered if the gatehouse would ever come up on the market besides thinking what a lovely place to live, right on the loch. Oops, it’s now a tea room. Missed my chance there.

Briefly, the church was built by a local wealthy laird. They say he was an amateur architect by the name of Campbell who built it for his mother to save her walking too far to church; what a lovely thought. As I see it he built it to a design in his head as to how he thought a Kirk should look like. I would give him nine out of ten.

There were no opportunities for brass rubbings of King Robert the Bruce effigy, nor had there ever had been. So it was back to the presbytery and a continuation of Tamsin’s piano lessons.

No 50 - Bruce: Lost and Found

Bruce; Lost and Found.

Look I meant to relate this story earlier to my gentle readers; it concerns a parrot. Well actually as we found out later it was a pink cockatoo. It did say on the poster it was friendly. This happened during the long Christmas break. Tamsin, Phaedra, and Candice who has just had her teeth braces removed; that’s Candice I am referring to about the teeth braces if there is any confusion, had also been invited to stay with us at Inveraray Castle.

Anyways one afternoon Phaedra, that’s Phaedra Gascoigne, went into Inveraray village to buy a new collar for Colonel Carter-Brown’s pet fox Reynard as a late Christmas gift, and to her surprise saw this pink parrot bird sitting in a tree in front of the Inveraray Inn. I won’t go into all the details or you will think I am making this up. As you all know parrots are not native to Scotland, pink or otherwise.

Now if this story was being related by Mr Flowers the gardener to his wife Betty she would be asking how many pints had he consumed down at the George Hotel hostelry.

I asked Phaedra where she found the parrot.

She said it was sitting in a tree opposite the Inveraray Inn.

I asked “how did you get it down?”

She replied “I just called it”.

I inquired “called it what, Bruce?”

She replied “No, no I mean I beckoned to it”.

Candice quite rightly pointed out ‘but it would not understand what beckoning meant, would it?’

Mischievously I added, “that’s right Candice. It might only know simple words. You know what I mean, like who’s a pretty bird then?”

Irritated raising her voice, eyes opening wide Phaedra said “there is no need to be sarcastic Bridgette”.

She said it flew down from the tree and perched on her shoulder.

Candice asked “How do you suppose it got into the country?’’

I knew it would not take too long for Tamsin to enter the conversation.

Tamsin suggested “I guess it was when a pirate looking chappie wearing an eye patch came through customs at Edinburgh Airport with it sitting on his shoulder, and when asked if he had anything to declare he said “just the pink parrot thanks, and a bunch of bananas …for the parrot”.

Exasperated Phaedra said “For Heaven’s sake Tamsin”.

Phaedra realized very quickly this was not a wild Scottish parrot but the missing parrot that has been advertised in the town for the last week or so. I believe there is a big reward for the finder.

Phaedra pointed out the poster reads he answers to the name of Bruce.

Tamsin asked, “How does it answer, does it nod, tap its foot or what?”

A valid question I suppose, but Phaedra was not going to answer. It would only encourage Tamsin.

I looked around the circle and saw four of us; a quick calculation split the finder’s fee at 100 quid each. Heavens above, Phaedra would not want to quibble about this. She does have a reputation to maintain at the college.

To cut a long story short we got in touch with the owner who lived in Inveraray village and informed her that the parrot was in good health and being looked after at the castle. She said she would call in later………er hopefully with £400.

It goes without saying we were flush with money for the rest of the holidays. I might even save some for when we return to Denham Hall.

                                Photo. Michael Todd

Tamsin, who had stayed overnight with us as well as Phaedra and Candice was complaining to us when we got out of bed she had the ’runs’. Candice made a terrible, throaty rasping sound as if she was sicking up and looking at Tamsin horrified exclaiming “ER YUK, Tamsin you are disgusting”.

Visibly irritated, Tamsin haughtily replied “it’s not my fault Candice”.

There was nothing unusual on the kitchen’s menu that could have caused her stomach upset. I suspect Tamsin suffers from worms so I guess it was something Tamsin had experimented with.

So it was. I had told her previously I used to eat dandelion bulbs when I was much younger. I told her they tasted like radishes and added that dock leaves found near stinging nettles tasted like vinegar. It appeared she must have whipped up a salad of said ingredients and they must have disagreed with her, thus the ’runs’.

Which reminds me, at the dance with the Watford Grammar school boys recently she told ‘Chalky’ White that she had worms and that was a communicable disease?

Anyway the Pharmacist and Apothecary on Main Street East were normally closed on Sundays but mother said she had some pills which her friend Mrs Dalrymple gave her which she found in the back of her wardrobe a couple of years back and said - quote “they should do the job” Unquote. I am not sure why I put that is quotes actually.

Strangely enough they did seem to work. Maybe they really are for general bodily disorders like the tremors, panic attacks….or/and the ‘runs’.

It was a cold winter with lots of snow which kept the tourist at a minimum and for most of the winter break we did not venture too far from the roaring fire in the castle.

We spent a lovely cosy evening in the warm saloon with the Carter-Browns, Beecham and his wife Symphony. Father was talking about retiring again and mother and Mrs Dalrymple were discussing visitors from other planets …that is where I think Mrs Dalrymple dwells most of the time.

I am still giving Tamsin piano lessons of an evening in the concert hall after tea when the hall is usually empty, but she will have to go to a qualified piano teacher in Watford to tutor her for her ABRSM music exams as I am not a qualified piano teacher. Maybe she can use her share of the parrot reward money for the piano lessons. I reckon she is up to Grade Two Level.

Oh, just to keep you all up to date when I returned to shop where we found the poster of the lost parrot there was a new poster. Someone had posted a note about a missing turtle; it read its name is Tommy Turtle, strangely enough. I suppose if it had been a girl turtle they might have named it Thelma or perhaps Teresa. Poor thing, the poster said it was very tame and had a cracked shell.

I might see if I can get a photo of it for my readers out there that collect pictures of lost pets…as a hobby.

It was two weeks later back at Denham Hall, as I walked into the classroom, the first thing I heard was Jessica asking Elspeth had she ever wondered why rabbits don’t have belly buttons. Hello, I thought, I’m back. Perhaps Jessica should pay more attention to Miss Frenzi’s biology lessons.

Incidentally Jessica was not lacking in *THAT* department if you know what I mean and was told by Rebecca who was being sarcastic and rude suggesting that she should consider wearing a training bra. I thought ‘she can talk’. We are not ALL built like grasshoppers.

By the way as I told you, Phaedra has also started a blog and just finished her first story about a penguin. I hope she has a good imagination. All I can say is that there is not a lot one can write about penguins. Oh God I hope she hasn’t called it Peter.

I will get back to you all in good time.

No 49 - Denham Hall's Record of Excellence

    Denham Hall’s Record of Excellence is Challenged

      

First of all, I will bring everybody up to date. I may have told you this before but you could have probably forgotten. Tamsin has broken up with Nathan and both have gone their separate ways. That must have been at least two months ago and a huge relief for Tamsin, but this is where it starts to get really, really interesting.

I was told by Candice that Nathan from the folk centre, who had the hots for Tamsin for a long time, had broken up with his latest girlfriend, a girl that goes to the St Joan of Arc Roman Catholic School in Rickmansworth, near Wharf Street next to the station. I think it’s a grammar school. Candice reckons it’s a secondary school. Charlotte replied, “isn't that all the same thing?”

Anyways, Candice, that’s Candice Robertson told me Nathan’s latest girlfriend, the one he recently broke up with was Elizabeth O'Flaherty. Charlotte could not contain herself. I am not sure if it was cattiness on her part but she put her hand over her mouth and exclaimed in horror “ER YUK I KNOW LIZZIE, SHE WOULD GO OUT WITH ANYONE” with the emphasis on ANYONE’.

Well, it appears not so as she has just broken up with Nathan. Poor Nathan. I think I know someone who might be interested in him, no promises though.

In passing, I heard the St Joan of Arc Catholic school received a ‘GOOD’ report from Ofsted. Our report was ‘INADEQUATE’. The report said Denham Hall, despite its overall high academic and excellent achievements, was still ‘struggling’ with diversity which you might remember really upset our headmistress Miss Sefton, and even Miss Frenz, both of whom violently disagreed.

The examiners nevertheless were startled to discover, to their surprise and momentary elation, that the second language for most of the students was not English, the Evans twins and Eustasia Alexopulos being exceptions. However they were deflated to discover the main second language was in fact Latin, followed by classical Greek and French. Despite this, it’s report gave the college an ‘INADEQUATE’ rating.

Miss Sefton the headmistress was overheard muttering to Miss Frenzi about Government Quangos and things. She said their charter is the education of our children and suggested they, they being Ofsted, keep their noses out of social issues outside of education, issues that do not concern them.

She pointed out to this traveling government education woman that for over 400 years Denham Hall had educated students from all over the United Kingdom, daughters of royalty, the aristocracy and daughters of prime ministers and yes, even commoners from Ireland, the Isle of Wight and Wales.

Denham Hall Young Ladies College had a record of excellence decades before schools like Primary, Elementary, Secondary, Grammar or Comprehensive schools even existed thanks to its founder King George number two, and Miss Sefton emphasized Denham Hall was not ’struggling with diversity or anything else of that nature. Thank you very much.’

Anyway to change the subject, this evening saw the performance of the inaugural concert of the Denham Hall Chamber Orchestra or Rickmansworth Strings. Actually to be honest it was not so much a concert as a recital. The small group consisted of about 10 strings consisting of two violas, a couple of cellos I think it was, and double bass, but no wind instruments. Miss Franklin, the music teacher, was the conductor.

The group had only been formed less than 6 months ago so it was a brave thing to do to give a public concert so soon. The decision had been left up to Miss Franklin or Lulu as she affectionately known by the girls.

I cannot remember the half dozen pieces they played except Les Plaisir’s thingy and Hungarian Dance No 5. I think by Brahms. It was only a short performance that took place in the concert hall of about one-hour duration to give the orchestra experience of giving a public performance. The invited audience were teachers, kitchen staff, gardeners, Nurse Mayo, their friends and Briggs of course.

Tamsin had told Miss Franklin when the group was formed she wished to play the guitar, even though it was a string orchestra. Miss Franklin reminded Tamsin it was not planned to be an Appalachian Mountain Bluegrass Band and chose a violin for her. She is a fast learner. I was also teaching her to play the piano.

I realize this narration of my college life is a bit disjointed but there again so is real life. Candice, that’s Candice Robertson, who at present is my third best friend - no, she is my fourth best friend, Rhonda is my third best friend - is being fitted with new glasses, well, ‘fitted’ is not quite the right word. With the boarders, most things of a medical nature are the left to the responsibility of the college infirmary in agreement with the parents.

The glasses I believe are only a temporary thing; the optometrist said Candice has a lazy eye, whatever means. So she is having a new piece of plaster stuck over one of her lenses. I assume it is until her eye stops being lazy. The first clue that Candice’s eyesight was getting poor was when it was noted she kept bumping into things like closed doors and other students. I may have mentioned earlier Candice’s mother is the Lady Mayoress Molly Robertson. It was not that long ago she had her teeth braces removed … er, that’s Candice, not her mother.

Anyway, Candice asked Nurse Mayo if I could go with her to the optometrist. He had all this equipment for testing eyes and stuff which Candice had to look into. One machine was like a camera which went off with a big flash and it took a close up of her eye which was displayed on his computer.

Later we were both looking over his shoulder at the screen of the close-up of her eye. It looked revolting! It was all red with veins and stuff. Candice asked him if he could send her a copy of the photo for her Facebook page. I thought that was even more disgusting. Candice Robertson has no shame.

When we got back to the college the girls asked Candice what the optometrist did. “Did he just change the plaster on the lazy eye?” Maybe he should have put a plaster on both of her lenses, like do both eyes at once, just my suggestion.

I love Fridays because they are followed by Saturdays. Tomorrow Tamsin and I are traveling to Scotland to Loch Awe and I will be staying on Saturday evening with the Laceys, Tamsin’s parents. On Sunday we will spend at home at Inveraray Castle.

By the way, I was going to mention because no doubt you would have forgotten by now, that Tamsin now has 6 Facebook friends. She roped Zanthe in when she arrived at college recently. I did have six including Zanthe until it was pointed to out me by Tamsin that one of my friends was a bed and breakfast somewhere in Spain, Alicante I think it was or was it Benidorm, who knows?

Andrew the stable lad picked us up from Oban Airport and drove us to the Presbytery at Loch Awe. Tamsin’s parents were very pleased to see us all and Andrew was invited to stay the night and drive us to Inveraray Castle the following morning.

No 48 - Human Relations and Hedgehogs

                                                                                            

      Human Relations and Hedgehogs

It was the first day back at college after the Christmas break and the senior students were entering a new phase in their life and their education. It was our first lesson on Human Sexuality and the last lesson before the morning break. Miss Frenzi was not making much headway, fact is she actually appeared to be losing interest, and was just gazing vacantly out of the window across the quadrangle.

I am not sure why we were being introduced to this subject because as far as I know there were no relationships of a sexual nature, or of any other nature for that matter, taking place, well certainly not in Boadicea dormitory. I had the feeling the girls were not taking this subject seriously.

The giggling by Tamsin and Charlotte refocused Miss Frenzi’s interest. Her voice rose as she turned and inquired “Tamsin Lacey, Charlotte Patterson is there something you wish to share with the rest of the class?”

The giggling stopped. I think Miss Frenzi was becoming annoyed.

Candice intervened and raised her hand, at the same time looking squarely across at Tamsin and said accusingly “Miss, Rebecca told me she suspects Nathan has some sort of human relationship thing lined up for Tamsin this weekend behind the canteen at the back of the folk club”.

Tamsin fumed “that is not true Miss. It’s not like that. He is NOT my boyfriend”. She forcefully continued “someone is making it up and anyways it would be wishful thinking on his part”. She delivered these following words purposefully, slowly and loudly “*and * I * am* not * dating * Nathan*.”

Miss Frenzi paused, looked around the class and said quietly “It looks as though we might have to start this lesson in a more rudimentary manner; maybe with guinea pigs and rabbits”.

She raised her voice “we are not discussing dating here Miss Lacey. This is a lesson on Human Sexual Relations”.

Tamsin stood up, put her hands on her hips, swung her head from side to side like she does and replied “You can rest assured Miss there is going to be none of that sort of thing happening with Nathan and me down at the folk club this weekend. Thank you very much”.

Miss Frenzi replied quietly “I am not implying there will be Tamsin but you must recognize it when you are first confronted with it. Now girls, what do you understand about pregnancy?”

Candice raised her hand and replied, “Miss, I heard Daphne up the road being told by her mother she would not be in this pregnant condition now if she had not gone to Brighton in the first place, so I suppose Brighton’s got something to do with it.”

Miss Frenzi groaned and wondered if, utilizing a common idiom, the girls were ‘having a piece of her.’

Whatever the girls might say about Miss Frenzi she has stamina. Probably because she is of Italian extraction - you know what I mean.

I had a feeling we might be released into the playground early and I was about to be disappointed. I think Miss Frenzi might have capitulated, but I was not to be deceived; she does not give up easily.

It is just part of growing up I suppose and something else us 15-year-olds are forced to deal with but I am certainly not going to dwell on it. It seems Tamsin is a bit twitchy about these things. Nevertheless, she has certainly got the measure of Nathan.

Oh, I meant to tell you, I heard Nurse Mayo the duty matron is on the warpath. To bring you up to speed I told you a while ago there are 4 dorms. The junior girls are first housed in the Nightingale dorm and progress through Pankhurst and Victoria to Boadicea dorm, the senior’s dorm. There are 10 beds to a dorm, 5 a side although it is possible to squeeze another 4 beds in a dorm.

Now I will be honest, I knew nothing about this. It is all second hand. I was told about this by Rhonda. Anyways the story goes someone put a hedgehog in one of the girl’s beds in the Victoria dorm. It is hard to imagine the terrible fright young Naomi must have experienced after pulling the covers up around her neck to find something, or someone crawling up her leg. Nurse Mayo would be less concerned about Naomi wetting the bed but more so about animal cruelty.

This was a copycat thing. It had been done before in Victoria dorm quite a while ago but it had passed into Denham Hall folklore so to speak, or so we thought. Frankly, I cannot see where animal cruelty came into this at all. I will agree the hedgehog’s life may have been disrupted for a time but meanwhile it did experience a nice warm and dry environment……….while its life was being disrupted.

Anyways Nurse Mayo was not amused and Briggs was called in to remove it. Tamsin reckoned if it stayed say another day they could have given it a name, although determining its sex for naming purposes you must understand could have presented a bit of a problem. It could have even been the Victoria dorms mascot.

You will be pleased to know Zanthe is settling in well. You might remember I told you her father was in the circus before getting a job in Treasury. I like Zanthe; she could just make my second best friend after Tamsin. Phaedra had better be nice to me this year.

She is still struggling with her language skills. She is having special elocution lessons, Zanthe that is, but even so she has to be continually reminded that one does not say ‘its snot mine’ or ‘its snot important’ and expressions like ‘strike me dead if I lie’. She is not a fast learner, but I still like her.

Mother rang up in the evening and asked how things were going and that after the New Year’s Eve dance. Andrew the stable lad had taken a shine to me and had asked her when I might be returning home. I told mother to tell him I was already promised. Mother inquired “who to?” I said it doesn’t matter. It is not important.

Maybe I should push Tamsin to the fore here. On second thoughts maybe not after the Nathan fiasco. The last thing she wants is introductions with specimens of the opposite species. I am returning home to Inveraray Castle next weekend but I will be keeping a very low profile.

In summing up the hedgehog was returned to the wild. The wild being the garden area behind the chapel where I expect it will live out its life. The girls have been warned ‘no more hedgehogs in the dorms’.