The Capital Calls

            Rarely do I defer my daily correspondence duties.  With numerous Committees and community ventures relying on my leadership, heaven knows how readily organisational matters would deteriorate should I neglect such paperwork. Yet today I am overjoyed to make an exception.  The Master has requested my presence in London and there is much preparation to which I need attend.

            This is a rare trip to the Capital, the demise of cultural standards therein having some time ago quelled my appreciation of our once exalted city.  Our theatrical destination, however, is devoid of such social decline.  Indeed, I am indebted to The Royal Opera House for resisting the lure of the masses to join that throng of auditoria which feature ghastly musical events and encourage audience participation.

            Upon arrival, we will take afternoon tea at Claridges, indulge in a promenade through one of the Royal Parks then return to our suite in order to dress for the opera.

            I would rather hope other patrons make a similar sartorial effort.  For is it not true that audience members are sometimes known to arrive clothed in the kind of attire only suitable, I venture, for a casual day at home without any expectation of visitors?  I simply fail to comprehend why modern society resists elegance with such vigour.  After all, a tailored dress and single strand of pearls portray such a gloriously propitious impression.

            With copious instructions concerning fabrics and folding – heaven knows, there is little I can leave to the folly of the young maid who has recently joined our employ - my garments are finally and correctly arranged in the leather trunk and two matching cases my dear parents presented to me on my return from finishing school.   The former are still in good order though, sadly, the latter have been reclining in the family vault for over a decade.

            After a frightfully busy morning, Forsythe drives me to the station where, to my relief, a uniformed railway employee is on duty to provide me with the correct permit with which to board the 2.10pm.  On the last occasion I commuted to London – luncheon with my Goddaughter at her delightful Georgian property adjacent to Kensington Gardens - I was unable to operate the frighteningly complex electronic ticket machine and only just caught my train after being aided by a passing youth who once trimmed my buddleia.