I've just packed our weekend guests off to bed, where I really should be going myself, when I thought I'd log in and say hello to all my lovely lovely friends who have been so lovely and supportive and lovely about my blog. Do you know I get all these emails from people who read everything I post avidly, and beg me to blog more often, because they just can't wait to hear what I've been up to. I knew that there were lots of People Like Us out there who wanted to read about the normal, everyday happenings of an ordinary, well-brought up girl, and it seems I was right! Well I love you ALL, you are lovely lovely lovely. Apart from the few horrid people who send me really rather rude messages accusing me of being bitchy and horrible - I suspect they are all the same person actually, you know who you are - anyway you are horrid and nobody likes you, especially not me!
I really should go to bed, I'm making the most terribly heavy weather of this typing, thank goodness for spellcheck. I don't normally get quite so squiffy without a very special reason, but we have Rupert's incredibly bossy and aggressive sister Arabella staying, and that has driven me to drink. Within about 20 minutes of her entering the house I felt the need to drive up my blood alcohol level to blunt the effect of her personality. I'm afraid I was rather too successful.
Anyway I managed to get supper over rather earlier than usual by inadvertantly offending her - which isn't difficult, actually, like lots of incredibly prickly people she is also as sensitive as hell. Such a boring combination. I was blathering on about the children and what a bore Lara can be and how annoying Ludgrove is being about putting Archie up for Eton, and goodness knows what, when she said "Minty, you should just be jolly glad you've got children, there plenty of people who'd love to be in your position but haven't been so lucky". I said "Well, you should be jolly glad you haven't got children, there are plenty of people who'd love to be able to hunt three times a week and go to Mauritius for a fortnight in term time, too." Well it was quite an innocuous comment, and really no different to the remark she'd just made to me, but she burst into tears, which has got to be a first, and ran upstairs with Esmond hot-footing it behind her with a hangdog expression and a box of mansize tissues.
God. Anyway Rupes and I had to finish the rest of the bottle of Sauternes to recover from the shock of seeing old bossyboots in tears - the last time he could remember Arabella turning on the waterworks was when Rupes had shot her guinea pig with the air rifle he'd got for his 9th birthday. And he is 44 now!
Must dash. I'm really awfully pissed and ought to get a bit of sleep before I have to deal with Arabella over breakfast. I'm not too sure where though - I think I've just heard Rupes chucking up in our bedroom. Nightmare. I wonder if Mrs Coddington made up the bed in the Cedar Room like I asked her to?
PS My goodness, quite forgot to tell you - we've been invited to dinner at the Rectory tomorrow night. I'm dying to meet Ralph's wife, finally. What to wear?