No 65 - Horror at Christmas

Horror BEFORE Christmas

To bring you all up to date, on my last weekend at home at Inveraray Castle I overheard mother tell Mrs Dalrymple that father made an absolute killing on the sale of his coal and oil interests in Brazil but he has not fully retired and he will remain on the board of governors, his past experience being invaluable. As I mentioned before, I suggested that he put in an offer for Balmoral Castle if, say, money is running tight for the present owners or whatever. 

I also suggested to mother that Mrs Dalrymple could move in as, not only has Balmoral got more than three bedrooms and benefits from two broom cupboards and places to store stuff, it has more room for Mrs Dalrymple’s corgi to stretch its little legs. As an added advantage, because of the acoustics, it could be used as a great place to summon ‘our dear departed’ or as Tamsin likes to describe them, ‘the dead’. 

I was to find out later father was going to donate a mountain of money to Denham Hall. Well this news should put me in good standing with Miss Sefton for starters. Tamsin should follow in my wake; she is always skating on thin ice. 

Where was I? Oh, Tamsin was talking about starting a secret society in the Boadicea dorm. Heavens knows why. It was the initiation rites that worried me, like getting tattoos done or having to use secret passwords to get in and out of the dorm, or something just as stupid. 

It will never work. You can bet your life Nurse Mayo would find out quick smart. I sometimes wonder whether it’s a genetic thing with Tamsin, although her mother appears to be quite normal and her father, well apart from playing the clarinet and stuff, also appears reasonably sane. 

Oh I must tell you; Colonel Carter-Brown our neighbour who lives at Ruthin Castle was a military man. He entered the army with the rank of Colonel. I would like to tell the Colonel my father, Lord Campbell, was also a military man, a Major General but in contrast to the Colonel’s upbringing he was from a poor, disadvantaged, underprivileged family from the Glasgow slums. 

Well that’s not true. I just made that up. Father was not actually brought up in the slums nor was he in the army. It just makes him sound more interesting. 

You must excuse me as my writing might appear somewhat disjointed but it is early in the morning so I am not up to speed….yet. 

This is the last year of college for a number of us girls. Smarty-pants Phaedra, that’s Phaedra Gascoigne, reckons she is going on to university when she finishes college. 

Now I was reluctant to relate this story because I know Charlotte Patterson will accuse me of indulging in toilet humour just to attract blog readers but that is not the case. It did happen and no doubt it will go down in Denham Hall folklore just like the story of the hedgehog that someone put in Naomi’s bed, that’s Naomi Brideau, so it has to be chronicled for the history of Denham Hall. 

The first indication I had things were not as they should be was when Tamsin’s prank took effect. I suspect Tamsin purposely timed this escapade for the last evening before the Christmas break. It was signalled by an eerie scream I heard from the direction of the Pankhurst dorm toilets. I am not quite sure how to relate this story. 

Again Miss Sefton the headmistress was unable to immediately discover the perpetrator who was responsible for this disgusting prank but we all know it was someone whose name starts with a ‘T’. She is the only person that I know who’s twisted, warped mind can possibly finds this action amusing. 

I am at loss to understand how this person I write of can possible dream these pranks up…….. ‘Praps it’s a gift. Personally I feel sorry for her future husband. 

It was in the Pankhurst dorm toilets that this vile incident took place. I won’t go too deeply into the more sordid details but briefly someone, no names mentioned, replaced a blue toilet freshener thingy  with a red one  that sits on the side of the toilet bowl, its purpose being that when the water in the toilet is flushed it exhibits a nice, clean, sanitary blue colour as opposed to….with a red one. 

I am perspiring. Frankly, I really don’t know if I can continue to relate this story, but I will try. 

Anyways, as a result of this replacement, when the toilet was flushed instead of a nice blue colour appearing in the toilet bowl what the poor girl saw who had just vacated the toilet was a distressing scene of a bowl its contents swirling like a raging maelstrom of a disturbed crimson cascade of water disappearing into the stygian darkness of the netherworld. 

‘Stygian’ is a good word. It means extremely dark, gloomy, or forbidding. I looked it up on google. 

Off-topic I am thinking of writing stuff of more classical nature.

Whoever is responsible for this prank is treading a very fine line. At best there will be a call-out by Miss Sefton at the morning assembly when college resumes in the new year. 

I know what is going to happen. It will be a repeat of the actions of the miscreant that, with a black felt marker pen, added words to the college notice board. After it had listed the virtues of the college, ending with reference to King and Empire, the words ‘When we used to have an empire, that is’ were added. 

Miss Sefton was unable to pin that misdemeanour on Tamsin either as there were no witnesses because it was done under the cover of this stygian darkness I referred to earlier. 

Gentle readers what I do remember most vividly about the toilet incident that took place in the dead of night was the terrible, lingering, agonized screams echoing and bouncing off the walls of the corridors from the direction of the Pankhurst dorm toilets most of the night. It was bizarre. 

The really good news was it was not Naomi Brideau who was the victim of this despicable crime because I can recognize her screams. No, among others, it was a newish girl to the college, Christine someone or other. 

No 64 - The Synopsis

                Pixabay 

Denham Hall Blog

            

I told Tamsin the synopsis of my stories were always going to be a bit of a problem. If I wanted to publish my writings, my blog is not a novel but a collection of short stories. My short stories have no real beginning, no middle and no end and no protagonist. So what’s the synopsis going to be about?

Phaedra, that’s Phaedra Gascoigne, butted in and said “what about Dakota Pugsley from the fourth? She’s a trouble maker and so is Madeline Brown. There are your pair of protagonists straight away”.

Tamsin pointed out “there is a love aspect Bridgette, like Nathan the leader of the folk group ‘The Sheriff’s Men’. He’s in love with that girl from the St Joan of Arc Roman Catholic School in Rickmansworth. What’s her name, Elizabeth O'Flaherty or something?”

She continued “Oh, then there was ‘A Love Made in Heaven’, the story within a story. Remember that one Bridgette where Graham gets killed but he gets to meet his Miss Angel…….in heaven?”

Candice said “well just say you are writing about the day to day events, the trials and tribulations of young girls and stuff at Denham Hall Young Ladies College and just leave it at that”.

As an afterthought she enthused “Tell you what Bridgette, tell them about the Ginger Thingy - that disgusting creature that roams the dorm corridors after dark”.

I replied “for heaven’s sake Candice that was Tamsin’s story and it was not true. She made that up anyways”.

“Well, what about Mr Crisis the science teacher?”

“That’s also stupid Candice; so what about him? He is an interstellar visitor No one is going to believe that story anyway”.

“How about the ‘Hobgoblins and Foul Fiends’ ”? suggested Candice.

Ignoring Candice I said “we have to tell the publishers something, like what the book is about, not just about a list of stories and stuff”.

Phaedra inquired “why, is it that important then?”

Tamsin said “I tell you what, tell them about the squirrels your mother found in the roof of Inveraray Castle”.

Sarcastically I pointed out “Yeah that is really going to draw the readers in, isn’t it Tamsin? It’s going to be the ‘killer hook’ that grabs, squirrels for heaven’s sake; that is really going to excite the publishers, but I tell you what, we can always tell our gentle readers about Miss Pringle’s nuptials”.

“I know what” said Phaedra excitedly “what about ‘Tamsin’s Dream’ or ‘The Hallucinating Bunny’?”

Pulling a terrible face Candice said “Er yuk, they were weird but not as disgusting as the Horror at Christmas”.

Smiling, Phaedra added “but also not as weird as Nathan in his ‘Keep the Falklands British’ tee shirt”.

Phaedra said hurriedly “Bridgette, publishers like to keep the word count on the synopsis at around 400 to 500 words. It cannot be much longer than that and we are over 400 now”.

Tamsin said “just write ‘THE END’ and leave it at that, if that’s all you’re that worried about”.

That comment seemed to tie up the loose ends.

Miss Taylor the new English teacher stopped me in the corridor and said “Bridgette I have heard you are thinking of sending a manuscript to a publisher”.

“Yes Miss, I would like to publish my Denham Hall blog”.

“Your blog indeed, come to my office this afternoon and we will discuss it”.

I was very excited. I was going to going to be a famous author after all.

Today, Friday, is the last day before the six weeks Christmas recess. It was tradition for Miss Sefton the headmistress to give her Christmas message to the girls the following day so numbers were fielded for those staying in the college which would dictate how many kitchen staff would be required.

Today was really a clean-up day. There were no lessons as such so in the afternoon I went round to Miss Taylor’s office.

The door was open. She was expecting me. “Come in and sit down Miss Campbell”.

As I sat down she asked “So now then, what has our famous author written?”

“It’s my Denham Hall blog Miss; it is not a novel but an anthology of 66 short stories”.

“66; that’s a lot of stories. That must have taken you a long time to write. I don’t know if the college has ever spawned an author before. Congratulations.” adding “have you written the synopsis of the book?”

“Well sort of” I replied.

“It is most important you get that right. It might determine if it ever gets published. Let me check it first”.

“Bridgette leave your blog with me and I will edit it for spelling and grammar as best as I can and you can come and collect it when college starts again in the New Year.”

“Are you going to self-publish or go the traditional way?”

“Miss, I thought I would find a literary agent rather than a publisher”.

“Good move Bridgette”.

“Right, off you go and see me when college resumes in the New Year. By the way, what is the book going to be called?”

“Bridgette’s Diary” I replied.

“Oh I like that” said Miss Taylor with a smile.

…………and I like Miss Taylor.

It was a week before Christmas. The traditional Christmas speech by our headmistress Miss Sefton due this afternoon was only for the boarders not the day students. It was not to be delivered on Christmas day as by then a number of the boarders would have already returned home.

I was heading home the day after her Christmas speech accompanied by Tamsin who would then travel to her home, the ’Grange’, the ex-presbytery at Loch Awe later in the day.

Only 30 or so boarders were at the concert hall for the speech. Also there was Miss Frenzi the Assistant Headmistress, Miss Taylor our English and History Teacher, Miss Green the Maths teacher. Miss Franklin the Music teacher and the Matron, Nurse Mayo.

Miss Sefton the headmistress again reiterated briefly that Denham Hall would remain a Young Ladies College in perpetuity as George the Second intended it to be and for which our founder gave its charter, to keep our heads down in the New Year studying and wished us all a very happy Christmas.

It was the Christmas recess 4 weeks; it was like a lifetime. Tamsin and I were back at Inveraray Castle just in time for dinner. Tamsin would be leaving for home in a couple of days. Mother and father were waiting for us, as was Mrs Dalrymple.

Mother had even invited Andrew…what’s his name the stable lad for dinner. I am not sure what her motive was or is. We were expecting the Carter-Browns over the following day. During dinner I found out father wanted Andrew to take myself and Tamsin to Loch Awe to Tamsin’s place.

At least bicycles and fitbits were not going to be surprises this year; not that a bicycle wrapped up in Christmas paper was going to be disguised like last year. As it was I had shed a few pounds since last Christmas.

Mother bought Mrs Dalrymple a lovely picture book of 17th-century Woodcuts. I would have thought a book of After-Dinner Spells would have been much more practical.

After dinner we took Tamsin home. On arrival at ‘The Grange‘ Mrs Lacey invited us in for tea and Christmas cake. On the way back to Inveraray Andrew asked me if I wanted to go out with him. I always thought he had the hots for Tamsin; those hots must have been transferred to me.

I was caught totally unawares, even surprised. I thought I would play for time. I said “leave it with me Andrew and let me think about it and I will get back to you on that one”. Mustn’t rush into these things. Anyways I don’t know if these hots had actually been officially transferred from Tamsin to me or not. I know what, I will ask Tamsin, first in best dressed. Oh, we must get the
piano tuned.

Welcome gentle readers to the festive season.

No 63 - Bridgette's Blog

     Bridgette’s Blog

 “May your cup runneth over” whatever that means. I was jogged into consciousness by Pastor Dickie’s last words of his sermon. I was suddenly transported back to reality. Students who did not return home at the weekend were expected to attend the Sunday morning service. Pastor Dickie continued, “hymn number 633, He Who Would True Valour See”. This by the way was Tamsin’s favourite hymn.

As we left the chapel Phaedra Gascoigne was full of herself again telling the other girls at the weekend her riding instructor had fallen off her horse and broken her arm giving the impression it was the culmination of some sort of a circus act, but we were more interested in the romantic adventures of our teacher Miss Taylor.

A message from Miss Sefton had been passed on the Miss Green, our new maths teacher who you will remember took over from the duties from Miss Frenzi who moved up the assistant headmistress position after Miss Pringle left to get married, to ask Jessica, that’s Jessica Wyndham, and me to go to her study.

Oh by the way, its Jessica’s birthday tomorrow. She will be fifteen. I am a fair bit older being fifteen and a couple of months. Phaedra suggested we buy her a book about horses. Tamsin suggested seeing she has Irish ancestry somewhere along the line let’s buy her a collection of say 100 hours of non-stop Irish dancing, you know River Dance stuff with Flattery, or is it Slattery?

Jessica’s parents had bought her a camera for her fifteenth birthday and it was running non-stop to top up her Instagram library. If it moved or even if it didn’t she was going to take a photo of it. It was a yellow one; the camera I mean. I asked if her parents could have bought her a more colourful one.

We knocked on Miss Sefton’s door but there was no reply. We knocked again still no reply. We gingerly entered the empty room..

Jessica said “Look Bridge, quick sit in Miss Sefton’s chair and put her glasses on. Pretend you are Miss Sefton, oh and look stern and that, and I will take your pitchure”.

As I settled myself and put on Miss Sefton’s glasses in walked Miss Sefton. I knew this would happen; I knew it.

Miss Sefton walked up the table stood in front of the desk and said straight-faced “I believe you wish to see me Miss Campbell?”

I liked Miss Sefton. She is not the battle-axe she is made out to be.

“No Miss, no. Jessica just wanted to take my pitchure with her new camera”.

“Right, you can take my glasses off now Bridgette then I want you both to go down to the teachers common room and meet Mr and Mrs De Crécy and their daughter Margaret. They will be joining our family in the New Year. I want you to show them around the college and then bring them to my office by 5pm. I am waiting on an important phone call”.

We took the De Crecy’s to the classrooms, the gymnasium, concert hall, the library and the Swimming pool. Margaret is going to be boarded in the Victoria Dorm, our dorm Boadicea was full. We also showed Margaret’s parents where the uniform shop was and then on to the canteen. As the uniform shop was only open two days a week Margaret will be issued with her uniforms and stuff after the Christmas break.

I believe her father was an important person; I did not want to ask him if he was an important person because if he said he was I would tell Margaret as a matter of fact my father owns a castle.

So that was the end of the tourist run.

It was a new dawn and the cue for the first teacher-student exchange of the morning.

Zanthe put up her hand. “Miss, miss suffinx ‘appened to me maffs book”.

A look of consternation clouded Miss Green’s face. You see Zanthe was a child of the East End and I am not sure what version of the English language she is currently using.

I translated for Miss Green.

“Miss, Zanthe said something’s happened to her maths book”.

“Thank you Bridgette". 

"Parodying Zanthe Miss Green said," nuffinx 'appened to yer maffs book. It is where you left it, wherever that might be”

Zanthe replied “Miss, I fink I may have left it in the dining ‘all”.

I again started to translate “Miss. she said she thinks she may have …..”

Irritated Miss Green snapped sharply  “Alright, alright Miss Campbell I can translate for myself thank you very much”.

Miss Green was getting annoyed.

“Yes Miss Perkins that is exactly where you left it and it has been handed in”

I am not sure what triggered Zanthe; maths was not the first lesson of the morning anyways.

That look of consternation I write of by Miss Green I suspect was going to be translated into remedial speech lessons for our Zanthe. Denham Hall could not allow her to leave college with the command of English of that of a costermonger’s daughter.....it would look bad. Well Denham Hall has about two years or so to work on her.

There were a number of us down the folk centre that evening. I remember Nathan telling Tamsin his group ‘The Sheriff’s Men’ had learned a new chord. Can’t think what it was, but it will come to me before the evening is out.

It was Gordon… er thingy, the chappie who collects the money at the door. He used to play in a rock and roll band who showed Nathan this chord. He has the hots for Tamsin. Oh yes I remember what the chord was, it was D7. Heaven knows what the chord was they were playing before.

While on the subject of boys it’s not that Tamsin avoids boys per se. No, she says they are just a bit of a nuisance. She also refers to them as a different species and she could be right. I personally think boys are attracted to Tamsin in the same way flies are attracted to jam tarts or flypaper if that makes any sense and not realising the dangers, the dangers here being the flypaper not the boys, do you know what I mean?

Rhonda, that’s Rhonda Appleton, was asked if she would sing a couple of numbers. She sings for free; well they give her free coffees in return. Most of Boadicea Dorm was in the folk club this evening as were some of the girls from the other dorms. I noticed Madeline Brown talking to Chloe Higgins. They are both troublemakers. They are from the Pankhurst Dorm.

I don’t know what The Sheriff’s Men were playing at, starting their break with a number called ‘Anchors Away’. It was Phaedra that said she suspects one or more of the band has been on - her words ‘the turps’.

I told Tamsin to tell Nathan when they came off the stage that it is NOT a recognized folk number and we as paying customers are being short-changed. I hope he took on this piece of advice.

Now what are we going to do with the rest of our lives?

In the evening I rang mother. She told me father is visiting the Carter-Browns and she cannot gossip too long on the phone as she is busy putting Mrs Dalrymple under hypnosis. Oh God not again; I hope it is not genetic.

Oh, I reminded mother, the piano needs tuning and pedals adjusting.

Oh 

No 62 - Romantic Rumours

              

                                                                                                                       

           Romantic Rumours

                     Our Miss Taylor: The Prize 

   I discovered by accident that Tamsin had found a pen pal in Crawley. I only learned of this news when I overheard Rebecca inquiring of Zanthe ‘where’s Crawley’? Candice, that's Candice Robertson, whose knowledge of geography is also not the greatest joined in saying ‘I believe it’s in the Midlands’. I should add the parents of this pair are paying huge money for their education.

Anyways, seeing that Tamsin is my number one Facebook friend I was little concerned I was not informed about this friendship earlier. I can understand Tamsin trawling for Facebook friends but deliberately searching for pen pals of the opposing species, well that’s something else again. But I am prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt as she could have mistaken this Robin person as Robyn on ‘find friends’ on Facebook so all is forgiven… IF that is the case.

Now then where was I? It was the first lesson of the day; Mr Crisis’s science class. It was to be our introduction to quantum physics. He opened with ‘It is all to do with the very small’. My mind immediately skipped to Daphne Phillips, who I would guess would be no taller than 4 feet something, but my mind had only been distracted for a brief moment.

Zanthe said when she leaves college she intends to be a professional tightrope walker in a circus following in her father’s footsteps who was a circus aerialist before he obtained a senior position in the Treasury Department. She posed ‘why should I need to learn all this stuff?’

I was inclined to agree as I intend to be father’s secretary. Then there is Rebecca Macleod who wants to compete in gymkhanas and stuff, and Myfanwy Evans pointed out its ok to study things very small if one is going to be a nurse looking after very tiny little people and things. Do you know what I mean?

It may be an introduction to quantum physics but my mind was on other things. I know this is all gossip and speculation and maybe it is a gift only we females are blessed with. Some might say it is the gift of having the advantage of being well-versed in the art of gossip from birth but I suspect there is something going on between Briggs and the new English teacher Miss Taylor. It’s just the looks they give each other; you know the body language stuff.

Briggs, for those of you that are new to my blog, is the caretaker, handyman cum dogsbody. His wife died a few years ago and seeing Miss Taylor is not unattractive I was not surprised to see some interest from the males, first it was Mr Baxendale the maintenance man, then Mr Crisis whose offer to take her to meet his family was declined. As regular readers to my blog know Epsilon Boötis is a very long round trip and neither Miss Taylor or him had accrued enough holiday leave. By the way I am not sure if Briggs has a Christian name.

I suspect this might well blossom into a full-blown romance. As far as I know there have been no promises made or anything like, and as far as I know and they are a long way from being a unit as such but as I pointed out to Tamsin, Briggs definitely has the hots for her. Yes, well we must all keep our eyes and ears open for any further updates on this romance.

Mr Crisis never did explain if the very small eventually grew into the very large so I have to assume they stayed very small. Anyways it was only our first lesson on the subject.

It was the midterm break and was lovely being at home at Inveraray Castle again. Tamsin is staying at her home ‘The Grange’, the old Presbytery at Loch Awe for the Saturday and travelling to Argyll Castle on the Sunday. We will have a couple of weeks together.

It was lunchtime Saturday. Mother and her best friend Mrs Dalrymple were sitting in the saloon. Perhaps mother could invite Mrs Dalrymple to move in with us like permanently. They both live in a different dimension, like together but in a different dimension from father and me, if that makes any sense.

Were Mrs Pasta, the Italian kitchen lady and Lady Rowena to join mother and Mrs Dalrymple’s attempts to contact ‘the other side’ - where does it all end? In my mind I have visions of black cats and witches chanting incantations of ‘double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble’. It does not bear thinking about.

Father has just sold all his oil and coal interests in Brazil so for all intents he is fully retired. I suggested with the wealth he has amassed he should now be able to make a sensible offer to the Queen for the purchase of either Sandringham Castle or Balmoral, or maybe both. Mother warmed to that idea. Perhaps she can install Mrs Dalrymple in one Palace …..or the other.

It is almost as if things are preordained. You see Mrs Dalrymple wanted to have another dog but her own place having only one bedroom and a sitting room, but benefiting from a small bathroom and a broom cupboard, was too small for two dogs but if she were to move into Balmoral Castle say, she would have plenty of spare room. It would allow her to purchase another small dog.

As she already has one corgi, when wandering around Balmoral then two corgis will not be out of place, do you understand what I am trying to say here? For heavens sake, the previous owner also having had two dogs; do I have to draw a picture here?

Colonel Carter-Brown and his wife Lady Rowena our neighbours don’t keep dogs but do have a pet fox named Reynard. Incidentally why the Colonel continues to use the title Colonel is beyond me as he retired from the military years ago.

Lady Rowena had him groomed the other day and had his teeth cleaned and wormed. A job I would not like to do and bought him a flea collar….. that’s the fox not Colonel Carter-Brown.

Tamsin arrived just before lunch on Sunday. In the afternoon we mingled for a while with the Asian tourists in the Castle tea shop. As you know the lady of the castle, that’s mother, who looks after the day to day running of the tea room had been informed by the castle manageress lady that an Asian tourist had asked for a bowl of chips only to be informed chips were not on the menu.

This news no doubt will be telegraphed all the way back to travel agents and tour operators with urgency to Osaka and Tokyo.

For my gentle readers there has been a change in Miss Taylor’s circumstances which I will tell you about once we return to Denham Hall after the holidays. Oh the good news is chips will be introduced in the castle’s tea room, which is good news as mother was beginning to fret about it.

I must remind Mother about getting the piano tuned.

No 61 - Daisy Dibbs Awakening

             

          Daisy Dibbs Awakening  

                    Don’t blame me for the title it was not my idea, it’s that Gascoigne again.

Denham Hall appeared so empty without Miss Pringle walking the corridors. No-one was quite sure how long she has been with Denham Hall. Tamsin commented at least Miss Pringle won’t miss the school choir’s festival being held at the Albert Hall.

Denham Hall College Choir had been invited again this year. We had some top singers with Rhonda, that’s Rhonda Appleton and the Evans twins, Blodwyn and Myfanwy. I hope having their braces fitted hasn’t affected their musical pitch.

That day had now arrived. I would not really rate myself and Tamsin as choristers but rather as ‘also sang’.

The day was just a blur. The Albert Hall was packed. Soon it was the turn of the twenty-two Denham Hall girls to assemble on the stage, not with apprehension but with collective confidence.

Our choral offering was the stirring “Cym Rhondda” or “Guide Me O Thou Great Jehovah” as it is more commonly known, once the singers had arranged themselves Pastor Dickie nodded a cue to the organist. It was the cue for the organist to play a prolonged first note. I suppose to give us some clue what key we were in. The building appeared to shake.

We had sung this psalm so often we did not need a conductor, other than to start us off, like all together, and rely on us to be close to one another at the end, like finish more or less together. Of course you all know the words, so you can sing along………..

    Guide me O thou great Jehovah, 
    Pilgrim through this barren land,
    I am weak but thou are mighty,
    Hold me with thy powerful hand.
    Bread of heaven, bread of heaven feed me till I want no more…………..etc., etc.

During the choruses the organ sound would swell to a crescendo making the very walls vibrate. This very traditional Welsh psalm must have brought tears to the eyes of the Welsh twins, Blodwyn and Myfanwy Evans. They even knew the words in Welsh and that in itself is really an unbelievable feat. Even Pastor Dickie our conductor at one point paused in his conducting hypnotized by the girls’ voices……hello I thought, we are on automatic.

This was not a competition but a festival of song. No prizes were presented but musical reputations of the schools and colleges were hopefully enhanced or maintained. A photographer from the Watford Observer was in attendance and a photo taken of the college choir which appeared on the front page of the Watford Observer and a couple of weeks later a group photograph was given to each member of the choir.

I will show the photo to Nathan, leader of the folk group The Sheriff’s Men. That will take the wind out of his sails.

Miss Frenzi told us to keep the noise down as we vacated the classroom the next Friday and reminded us to check we had our homework for the weekend. I wondered what we are going to do with the rest of our lives, well the weekend anyway.

I knew I had re-joined the real world when the following day Tamsin, after seeing a movie called ‘They Came from the Beyond’ which is on at the Cineworld, Watford, told us she had been seeing flying saucers ‘all over the place’.

“For my gentle readers and/or those persons unfamiliar with Watford, Cineworld is near the Charter Place Shopping Centre which I might add benefits from parking facilities for disabled persons and young mothers…parking spaces. Fact is you can actually walk from the cinema to the Côte D’azure Cafe which is Miss Pringle’s favourite little restaurant that I told you about earlier where Briggs sighted her with her new man”

Now where was I? Anyways Tamsin after seeing this sci-fi movie had taken a sudden interest in flying saucers and stuff, even street lights and airplanes in the night sky were fair game and were ‘from the other side’.

Tamsin said there was a person who wrote a book about aliens being disguised as giant owls who visit planet Earth carrying out experiments. My thinking here is if Daisy Dibbs from the college kitchen is just showing the first signs of pregnancy she is not necessarily pregnant with an alien Owl implant. Does that make any sense?

This was Phaedra’s cue, that’s Phaedra Gascoigne going off at half-cock again asking Tamsin questions like ‘So are these real owls or are they just aliens wearing owl costumes?’ and ‘was Daisy’s pregnancy just a common old garden alien implant? Like, was it a real alien with evil intent that impregnated Daisy Dibbs or was it an owl’, because either way it should call for an investigation. Hang on. I am losing the plot here.

For the record I would like to state here and now I am not for one moment hinting, accusing or even vaguely suggesting our Daisy is having a close and intimate relationship with an owl and it is more than likely it could well be just a normal run of the mill pregnancy. You know what I mean”

It was getting complicated, even for me.

Phaedra fielded more questions which she said were pertinent like ‘how did they get a conversation going in the first place, like with the owls?’

I was terrified that young Naomi, that’s Naomi Brideau who is new to the college, might ask Phaedra if she would be so kind as to explain, but in a little more detail if she would, the meaning of words that were new to young Naomi; words which I know Phaedra is quite capable of discussing ……at length and in some depth too, like consummation and that.

I wish it ended there but it didn’t. I heard Tamsin telling Tiffany that her neighbour played the Clavicle. I told Tiffany a clavicle is a bone in the shoulder and people sometimes break their clavicle but they don’t play with it even if it is broken, she means a Clavichord…….. I despair.

Sometimes I think Tamsin is Mrs Dalrymple’s love child born out of wedlock despite Mrs Dalrymple being a widow and never having had children. I had heard enough. I was leaving.

To put to bed all this alien and flying saucer stuff I suggested to Tamsin she spoke to Mr Crisis our science teacher. Miss Sefton employed Mr Crisis when Miss Cribb left to get married. Mr Crisis had ‘flown in’ from Epsilon Boötis that is, on a sabbatical so I presume Miss Sefton took him on having solid proof of his impressive credentials proving he indeed had a keen grasp of science, so he could better explain alien implants and stuff to Tamsin.

I did not want to be anywhere near Tamsin when she questions Mr Crisis.

I will be going home this weekend so will Tamsin, so Mr and Mrs Lacey are in for an interesting conversation and if Tamsin threatens to come round to Inveraray Castle it will be a ‘flying Saucer’ free evening I can assure you.

Anyways I think I will end this daily account of life at Denham Hall for a while as it could be misconstrued as being somewhat distasteful and I also do not want to distract mother from the world we live in….any more than she is already being distracted.

Below is more research I have made that could throw further light on Daisy’s pregnancy.

http://www.theoriesofatlantis.com/features/2017/6/6/the-owls-are-not-what-they-seem
  
Bridgette Campbell

No 60 - Teeth Braces: Jessica's Apprehension

                  

           

                                                                                                                                                      

Teeth Braces; Jessica’s Apprehension

I knew this would happen eventually. I was in the library discussing with Tamsin about the new teacher, Miss Taylor who has taken over Miss Pringle’s position of English teacher. For those of you that are not paying attention she has resigned, that’s Miss Pringle not Miss Taylor.

Hang on; look I will have to get back to you later about this as Nurse Mayo is coming up the corridor with Jessica, that’s Jessica Wyndham. She had taken her to the dentist in town to have her teeth braces removed. If you remember it was the Evans twins who recently had braces fitted, then a few weeks ago Candice had her teeth braces removed. It is getting like an orthodontist factory line here.

Where was I? Anyways Jessica said while peering down her mouth the dentist had said to her conversationally “I hear Bridgette’s mother is still trying to make contact with ‘our dear departed’ I believe?”

Tamsin’s eyes opened wide “Does that mean the dentist can actually tell that just by looking at your teeth”?

I said forcefully “Don’t be so stupid Tamsin”.

I remember when Candice first turned up in class on her arrival at college, probably when she was about 12. She had one of her front teeth missing and Miss Pringle inquired if she had been in a playground fight. No, teeth falling out are a natural occurrence at this age; it appears no one yet knows why.

Well the story goes; hang on let me start from the beginning. You all know, well you should do by now, our science teacher Mr Crisis comes from Epsilon Boötis, but I guess you know all this and how he got the job as the science teacher in the first place.

We at first thought he came from Zeta Reticuli number two, actually that’s what Rhonda told us but it turns out she got it all wrong, and it was Epsilon Boötis. You see Zeta Reticuli number one is a sun and Zeta Reticuli number two is the planet that goes around and around it. Not that it matters anyway as Mr Crisis isn’t from there.

Anyways, Mr Crisis knocked up this device in the science lab and accidentally took him and Rhonda who was assisting him back to his home planet Zeta Reticuli number two, er sorry Epsilon Boötis, whatever, because there was an emergency thing in Mr Crisis’s family. I almost wrote there was a crisis in Mr Crisis’s family, LOL. Remember I told you Rhonda’s mother was hopping mad at Mr Crisis for his carelessness.

I realize this is all idle gossip that is coming from Tamsin and I have to be sceptical, very sceptical but the story goes that Mr Crisis had invited Miss Taylor, the pretty new teacher, to a round trip to meet his family if she would like to accompany him on his holidays to his home planet.

Now we all know it is about 39 light-years from Denham Hall, that’s Epsilon Boötis, give or take a few light-years and Miss Taylor would not have accrued enough leave yet as she only turned up a couple of weeks ago, and even travelling at the speed of light would not have made it back in two weeks. Miss Taylor was concerned if she was late getting back it might put her job in jeopardy or even at risk and she did not want to lose her job. Which all the girls thought was fair enough.

Anyway Mr Crisis explained to Miss Taylor that one travels via dimensions and portals not in little metal saucer canisters and thingies, so he could assure her that he would get her back in time for the start of the new semester. I knew a love interest would blossom sooner than later but more likely with one of the maintenance men, probably Mr Baxendell. He has a reputation as a bit of a lothario, whatever that is.

Miss Taylor refused Mr Crisis’s kind offer, just to be on the safe side.

Miss Frenzi was about to start the last lesson of the day. “Now girls may I have your attention. I would like to remind you all that chewing gum is not a prohibited or a banned substance in this establishment as far as I know, but it is banned in the classrooms particularly if the decaying remains are stuck underneath your desks to slowly decompose”.

Irritated Miss Frenzi inquired “Candice are you listening to me?”

Candice sheepishly withdrew her head from under her desk.

Miss Frenzi continued “Yes Candice Roberson, perhaps you are hoping to rescue the remains of that disgusting, putrefying piece of ruminant that you stuck beneath your desk for future consumption”.

There was muted sniggering from the class.

A little louder Miss Frenzi pointed out “and to all of you it is not the job of the cleaners, like minesweepers, to hunt down these rotting remains”.

“Colloquial French textbooks out”.

I looked down….. I looked up…… it was 4 pm I must have dozed off.

Mother rang just after tea and during the conversation told me she was going to put Mrs Dalrymple under regression.

“Oh no,” I asked horrified “what for?”

She replied “Well she says she has this fear of mice and wants to know if it was something that happened to her during her childhood to have caused this fear.” She reckons something most traumatic must have occurred to warrant this anxiety.

I asked “does this anxiety involve just the one mouse or a whole pack of mice?”

She said “she doesn’t know” and that’s why being put into regression might be the answer.

I replied “Mother most people don’t like mice for heaven’s sake. It is not a fear. It’s like people who don’t like greens or porridge”.

“Yes Bridgette” replied mother “but Mrs Dalrymple thinks it goes much, much deeper “.

I despair. I think I may not go home this weekend.

It was to be an evening at the folk club in town. Most of Boadicea dorm girls are card-carrying members of the club so it IS a cheap night out. The Sheriff’s Men are the resident folk group. Nathan, the group leader told us he had started a Facebook page. Now there was a trap for the unwary. If anyone is interested I think he is touting for friends. Nathan can be likened to an unexploded mine….waiting to be trodden on, if that makes any sense.

The club often have meat tray raffles. I remember when Tamsin first arrived and she won a meat tray at the club and the next day she asked the kitchen ladies to cook the meat up for her. They refused and told her the college kitchens are not a café and the college dining room is not a restaurant and anyway there was enough meat in the meat tray to feed the whole school. She took the meat back to the club. Heavens knows how long it had been out of the fridge.

Tamsin is very quick on her feet but her brain doesn’t automatically follow.

For your interest Mr Crisis is still living in the caretakers accommodation, rent free I believe. The new teacher Miss Taylor has an apartment in the town and the headmistress Miss Sefton lives in a lovely little cottage in the grounds of Denham Hall and spends much of her time in her garden. She has been with the college since like forever.

Next week I will go home to Inveraray Castle hoping Mrs Dalrymple is still not under regression. I must talk to mother about the piano.

No 59 - Miss Pringle's Farewell

                                                                                                               
Miss Pringle's Farewell

I was in the dining hall in the breakfast queue with the other boarders agonizing over whether starters for breakfast was going to be porridge or corn flakes when Phaedra leaned close to me and whispered she had heard that Malcolm, Briggs the caretaker’s son, had the ‘hots’ for me.

Surprised I replied “Pardon?”

She repeated “Briggs’s son Malcolm. He has the hots for you”.

I replied “Where did you hear this?”

She said “Candice overheard Zanthe telling Phaedra”.

I thought I would quash this disgusting rumour straight away.

Crossly I replied “Well you can get word back quick smart to Malcolm Briggs or whatever he calls himself. Tell him if he thinks this will develop into some sort of meaningful relationship he is sadly mistaken. The ‘hots and stuff’ are off the menu”.

This news might devastate Malcolm’s day but as father stressed to me, these are the brutal facts of life, in this case Malcolm’s life, that one must all face at one time or another. Nevertheless I hate these rumours.

Incidentally before I forget, cornflakes won out at breakfast time.

Today was also the big day for Miss Pringle, the assistant headmistress. It is officially her retirement day. As I mentioned in an earlier account, her mother was quite sickly and Miss Pringle took compassionate leave. Sadly her mother died. Miss Pringle has been with the college since forever, almost as long as Miss Sefton, well at least 40 years; Tamsin put it nearer to 320 years.

Breakfast was over and all the college students, boarders and day students were noisily gathered in the main hall for morning assembly waiting to hear the farewell speech by the headmistress Miss Sefton. I heard someone behind me singing in a quiet, taunting sing-song voice ‘Phaedra’s got a boyfriend, Phaedra’s got a boyfriend’. It was Zanthe.

Later I asked Phaedra what her boyfriend’s name was. She answered forcefully “He is NOT my boyfriend. He is my cousin and his name is Dexter”.

Later out of earshot of Phaedra, Tamsin pointed out that no mother being of sound mind would name their child Dexter, well not deliberately. Tamsin is inclined to exaggerate.

Elspeth agreed. She said she thought “Dexter wath a thilly name. Ith ok for a dog”. End of conversation.

Where was I? Oh, Miss Pringle was very well-liked by the girls and even though she was a hard task-mistress she was very fair. We will be sorry to see her go. She will not be alone in her retirement as she has a sister with two grandchildren.

Miss Sefton entered the hall and walked to the podium. The noise quickly abated. She had not prepared a farewell speech as such. She knew Miss Pringle too well to have to prepare flattering words confirming her long association and valuable contribution to Denham Hall. I think Miss Pringle also would have preferred she kept the farewell speech short.

All the students, boarders, day students the groundsmen, maintenance men and dining hall staff were in attendance. To emphasize the importance of the day the Marquis and Marchioness of Cirencester, who had for many years been generous benefactors to the college and their children being past pupils, were also present.

The prolonged applause and sustained cheering at the end of the speech was a barometer to Miss Pringle’s popularity with the students. She really will be missed. Of course it was a very sad day for Miss Pringle. Tamsin suggested they should name the main hall or swimming pool after her…..or the college or better still change the name of Rickmansworth to Pringle. That’s Tamsin being silly again.

As a farewell gift she was presented with a framed picture of a copy of the original charter for the formation of Denham Hall by King George the Second and she had been made a life-long member of the College Board. That gives you an indication of the high esteem the college held for Miss Pringle.

I am sure a few tears were also shed by girls whose misdeeds were kept from being made known to Miss Sefton by Miss Pringle, like being caught wearing rings, bracelets or earrings in the playground as that was a definite no, no. As Miss Pringle used to stress to the students where would we as an intelligent species be without some sort of order.

The new teacher another ‘Miss’, a Miss Taylor is already on the staff. She was standing next to Miss Sefton and was introduced to us all at the end of Miss Pringle’s farewell. She was much younger than Miss Pringle. She appeared to be a very nice lady and was quite pretty, no doubt in due course she will be raising the pulses of the gardeners and maintenance men.

It was Friday afternoon and Tamsin and I were heading home. I was staying with Tamsin’s family at Loch Awe on the Saturday evening before leaving for Inveraray Castle on the Sunday morning. Father had more or less wound up his business affairs in Brazil hopefully anticipating retirement.

On arriving at the Lock Awe Grange or the old Presbytery, Tamsin was excited to discover that her mother had acquired another rabbit and had named it Peter. It belonged to the neighbours who had moved house and lacked the space in their new home for Peter…er Rabbit.

This evening Tamsin’s father had arranged for the family and friends a two-hour viewing of coloured slides of Tamsin’s baby photos and the family’s holidays in Skegness and Blackpool. Tamsin’s mother said Tamsin and I if we wish could ‘do our own thing’, whatever that meant.

As it turned out ‘our own thing’ translated to the tennis court. That was Saturday afternoon/ evening more or less taken care of.

The evening was drawing in and a respectable tennis score of 2 games each was achieved as we walked off the court and joined the others in the lounge. Tamsin’s father had finished the slide show and was cleaning his clarinet, now that really did bother me but the worry was short-lived.

It was now Sunday. During the week father had received a newsletter about the ongoing work at St Conan’s Kirk at Loch Awe and that donations are very important. At the moment they are into ‘Phase 2’ re ‘Urgent Repairs to Major Roof Leaks’.

In the morning I and Tamsin decided to ride our bikes over to St Conan’s Kirk. There were a number of workmen about and Tamsin asked the foreman if she would like us to do a ‘bit of painting’

He replied “Thank you Tamsin for your lovely offer but this is not a touch-up job but a full restoration. But tell you what, how about coming round nearer Christmas we might need help to replace the large flagstones along the entrance path?”

I think Tamsin’s reputation might have preceded her. Repeating his words to Tamsin he added “We are very grateful for the support of all of our funders and also the work of our incredible volunteers like yourself Tamsin”.

You can understand why Tamsin’s offer this time was put on hold……… a touch up job, I ask you!

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.