I return after the small hiatus occasioned by my having come down with a touch of something – maybe the croup or colic or some other inconvenience which rendered me too ill to fulfil my usual duty of providing reflection on the club’s history.
Poll, as is her wont, stepped into the breach with aplomb, but it might be as well to note that her understanding, and therefore her account, of the true situation may not have been accurate. I hesitate to say she was communicating an untruth (my hesitation being based not least on the presumption that she’d brain me with her rolling pin) but I believe she may simply have misinterpreted certain things.
Now, to proper business. I have to digress a moment from my pen portraits of the foppish, trouser chasing milksops this club has for members, to relate the tale of a very special visit bestowed upon us this last week. A certain lady whom we all revere and serve graced us with her presence at luncheon this last Wednesday, and she ended up staying until very nearly midnight. Was she amused? I should say so.
Maybe it was the sight of all my “gentlemen” (I use the term loosely, as loose as their britches), done up like dogs’ dinners. Lord Anthony and young Spence were even sporting kilts, sgian-dubhs and all! My Poll says she reckons they were trying to impress the old girl, Her Majesty having had such a thing for John Brown. It certainly brought a flush to the royal cheek, to see them swirl along.
Poll had been in to set up the food and she’d been quite taken with the sight of two such pairs of muscular legs. Afraid for Her Majesty’s dignity if the breeze got up, qhoth she, “Lord Anthony, is anything worn below your kilt?”
To which he replied, “No, Poll, it’s all in working order.” Luckily for us Wednesday proved calm, and all sails hung down over the mainmast.
“I don’t know why you worried, Beare, you silly old sod,” my Poll said to me affectionately. “She’s seen it all before. Look at the houseful of children she’s got!”
“She may have seen it all before, my love,” I rejoindered, mustering my dignity, “but not my gents’ she hasn’t!”
“Don’t fool yourself,” she replied and flounced off with a wink over her shoulder.
I’ve been wondering what she meant by that ever since. Sometimes my Poll seems to know more than is good for her…