Vive l'été!
Summer holidays inundate my esprit with a sense of joie de vivre! The season brings with it the promise of days filled with free time to dedicate to my various leisurely pursuits; equine upkeep, eytmology, and amateur archeology, to name a few. It is with great pleasure that I welcome days uninterrupted by the tedium and monotony propogated by my preparatory school. Not only do these summer months eradicate my compulsary attendance at school, they also compel my various private instructors to leave the country as well. Of all of these currently traveling tutors, I am most contented with the absence of Madame Trousse, my inept and exigent french professor. Though I cannot deny it, this journal entry alone stands as proof, the French language when used correctly can be rather pretty to the ear and often provide the mot juste for its speaker. However, the most proficient speakers of the language, the French to be exact, are some of the most unpleasant people in le monde. Madame Trousse is a testament of this truism. Not only does she abuse the entire household staff, expecting them to be at her side in an instant ready with a café au lait, a glass of water, or any other trifiling request that has entered her mind that instant she is also impossible to please, regarding her surroundings with an air that seems to be a mixture of disgust and condescension. The minute Trousse enters Whittleworth manor, the environment becomes immediately tense, and I'm not making reference to past or present tense, either. Suffice to say, between the insatiable desires of Madame and the environment which is not at all conducive to language learning, I find it surprising that I have ascertained anything at all. It occurs to me that I may not be the only person relieved after the departure of our fickle Frenchwoman, the entire staff of Whittleworth manor are surely just as happy to say Au Revoir.
mercredi 25 juin 2008
lundi 16 juin 2008
Casebook Entry # 3
Light showers outdoors keep me quarantined inside the manor, wrapped up in a throw blanket and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes Mysteries. The mastery of Holmes in his trade never ceases to amaze me. I can only hope that one day my sleuthing skills will be comparable to his standards of excellence in the métier.
The story entitled, "A Scandel in Bohemia" struck me as particularly instructive. In a brief exchange between Holmes and his friend Watson, the deft detective elaborates on the qualities neccesary for being a succussful isleuth. When Watson cannot say how many steps comprise the staricase which leads to Holmes' drawing room he is disparaged for not being constantly in possession of his faculties of sight and observation, "You have not observed," Holmes admonishes him, "And yet you have seen. This is just my point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, because I have both seen and observed."
I must remember, in my blossoming career, that one must both see and observe, listen and hear, touch and feel, in order to solve a mystery. I am eager to continue with my reading and learning under the tutelage of Sherlock Holmes and happy for the rain that taps gently on the window panes of Whittleworth manor.
The story entitled, "A Scandel in Bohemia" struck me as particularly instructive. In a brief exchange between Holmes and his friend Watson, the deft detective elaborates on the qualities neccesary for being a succussful isleuth. When Watson cannot say how many steps comprise the staricase which leads to Holmes' drawing room he is disparaged for not being constantly in possession of his faculties of sight and observation, "You have not observed," Holmes admonishes him, "And yet you have seen. This is just my point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, because I have both seen and observed."
I must remember, in my blossoming career, that one must both see and observe, listen and hear, touch and feel, in order to solve a mystery. I am eager to continue with my reading and learning under the tutelage of Sherlock Holmes and happy for the rain that taps gently on the window panes of Whittleworth manor.
dimanche 8 juin 2008
Casebook Entry #2
Dear Journal,
Tumultous times have descended upon Whittleworth Manor. Manfred is on his summer holidays and the family has been left chef-less. Though anyone would be hard pressed to rival our Manfred's culinary abilities, my mother has proved to be an all around disapointment in the kitchen. Her efforts have been commendable, but I cannot give her "cordon bleu" credit.
In an effort to save face mother invited her friend Ms. Struddel to dine with us this past Sunday. Given that fact that the indulgent Ms. Strudel knows more about food than anyone in my mother's social circle, our breath was baited in expectation of her aid in the kitchen. My sense of logic and deduction prepared me for the let down that would most likely follow their kitchen session as I've known Ms. Strudel long enough to understand that she prefers her food of the sugared variety- even her ham is habitually honey roasted. Given this knowledge, I didn't expect a fabulous dinner feast to flow forth under her influence. Perhaps there would be a mouth-watering mousse to follow whatever was offered as a main course, but I wasn't eager to suffer the supper that would preceed the dessert.
To my surprise, with whatever mysterious resources they had at their disposal, the two women managed to manifest their talents and produce a most delightful meal. Mother often speaks poorly of Ms. Strudel and her "gourmandise" but I believe that tonight was an example of the benefits of having an interest in culinary indulgences. I can avow that I appreciate the small attentions given to the creation of a truly enjoyable smorgasbord of sumptous sustenance.
Though I await with impatience the return of Manfred, my friend and refined food provider, I am quite content to realize the talents that exist in my mother's most cherished community. The power of friends in times of distress is invaluable. When not studying mysteries of great importance, one can learn a good bit from the stupendous experience of living from day to day.
Good night journal,
Wembsleydale
Tumultous times have descended upon Whittleworth Manor. Manfred is on his summer holidays and the family has been left chef-less. Though anyone would be hard pressed to rival our Manfred's culinary abilities, my mother has proved to be an all around disapointment in the kitchen. Her efforts have been commendable, but I cannot give her "cordon bleu" credit.
In an effort to save face mother invited her friend Ms. Struddel to dine with us this past Sunday. Given that fact that the indulgent Ms. Strudel knows more about food than anyone in my mother's social circle, our breath was baited in expectation of her aid in the kitchen. My sense of logic and deduction prepared me for the let down that would most likely follow their kitchen session as I've known Ms. Strudel long enough to understand that she prefers her food of the sugared variety- even her ham is habitually honey roasted. Given this knowledge, I didn't expect a fabulous dinner feast to flow forth under her influence. Perhaps there would be a mouth-watering mousse to follow whatever was offered as a main course, but I wasn't eager to suffer the supper that would preceed the dessert.
To my surprise, with whatever mysterious resources they had at their disposal, the two women managed to manifest their talents and produce a most delightful meal. Mother often speaks poorly of Ms. Strudel and her "gourmandise" but I believe that tonight was an example of the benefits of having an interest in culinary indulgences. I can avow that I appreciate the small attentions given to the creation of a truly enjoyable smorgasbord of sumptous sustenance.
Though I await with impatience the return of Manfred, my friend and refined food provider, I am quite content to realize the talents that exist in my mother's most cherished community. The power of friends in times of distress is invaluable. When not studying mysteries of great importance, one can learn a good bit from the stupendous experience of living from day to day.
Good night journal,
Wembsleydale
dimanche 1 juin 2008
Casebook Entry # 1
Dear Journal,
Unfortunately there is nothing new to report. No mysteries have made themselves apparent as of late, which is exceedingly disappointing considering a distraction would be welcome at the present time. My most unenjoyable cousins, the triplets, are passing an extended weekend at Whittleworth Manor and they have already exhausted their welcome, though their arrival was yesterday and I must bear their company for yet another two days.
It is a thing of great difficulty, the mere attempt to make conversation with the three miscreants who seem to ba continuosly finding new ways to disrupt the order of the estate with all forms of mischeif making. To be entirely honest, I am barely acquainted with my cousins at all, and if I may be so bold I’d like to articulate my most dear desire of being even less acquainted with them as I am now, if such a thing were possible.
Mother, of course, prods me to make every possible effort to ameliorate our relations. Grown tired of her constant badgeirng, I am doing my best to grant her wishes. The fact that she has promised a new Tri-Centric telescope in exchange for my efforts offers further motivation. I will keep you updated on further developments.
Yours,
Wembsleydale
Unfortunately there is nothing new to report. No mysteries have made themselves apparent as of late, which is exceedingly disappointing considering a distraction would be welcome at the present time. My most unenjoyable cousins, the triplets, are passing an extended weekend at Whittleworth Manor and they have already exhausted their welcome, though their arrival was yesterday and I must bear their company for yet another two days.
It is a thing of great difficulty, the mere attempt to make conversation with the three miscreants who seem to ba continuosly finding new ways to disrupt the order of the estate with all forms of mischeif making. To be entirely honest, I am barely acquainted with my cousins at all, and if I may be so bold I’d like to articulate my most dear desire of being even less acquainted with them as I am now, if such a thing were possible.
Mother, of course, prods me to make every possible effort to ameliorate our relations. Grown tired of her constant badgeirng, I am doing my best to grant her wishes. The fact that she has promised a new Tri-Centric telescope in exchange for my efforts offers further motivation. I will keep you updated on further developments.
Yours,
Wembsleydale
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