In which we learn about Morris Dancing...

Hullo there my slightly ruffled sea penguin,  

I am writing to you today from the depths of hell that is known as Sussex.

There was a group of young people today Morris Dancing in the street. Mrs Quigley fainted from the shock of it.She hasn't been the same since her dog, Bernie, died last year. Everything frays her frazzled nerves. The poor thing.

 

I went to the chip shop at lunch and there was a great man-beast behind the counter. I did wonder how he made the chips without getting any of the phenomenal amounts of hair on his body in the boiling oil. I watched him closely as he made my chips for signs of follicle fallings. 

Let me tell you, my ponderous manatee, last week was a rather interesting week as well. Well, to begin with there was a mishap with my mail. I was sent a parcel meant for the rather delectable lady next door. I did the chivalrous thing and took it took her. When she answered the door she was in nothing but a negligee and slippers! Well, I can tell you that I was quite shocked at her state of undress. She asked me in for tea to say thank you for being a gentleman.

The things I learned from that woman.

Did you know she is very well versed in the various geopolitical aspects of the European Continent? I learned things about politics that I never knew before. And she makes a lovely scone, if I do say so myself. 

I heard from Mother that you are taking up the Flugel Horn this semester at University. I commend your sense of ambition, but also wish to counsel you on the fact that it is perfectly alright to fail. You do not need to be expert in every endeavour that you undertake. Just look at Uncle Marty, he is a great failure and he is just as happy as Cousin Gregory, who passed the Bar and is a highly successful lawyer.

I am so proud of you, my little sweet smelling lizard; you are off, making your way in the world. Making a difference to those you meet. You’re changing the world for the better. Just remember us, my contentious staple gun, back here in the old house, watching as you set the world on fire.

Do you remember your cousin, Gerald? Well, I just had word from your Aunt Livinia’s brother’s cousin’s ex-roommate that he had started his business in textiles and ended up being a drug mule for the Yakuza! Did you ever hear such a thing? I always knew that boy would come to a bad end. He always was trouble, that one. Not like you. Your Great Uncle Augustus, bless his soul, would be so proud of you and your candle making.

Well, the day is getting on, my Pantalooned Regimental Soldier, and I simply must take this devilled ham to Mrs Marjory across the way. Her piles are acting up again.

Give my love to Sookie.
I will write again soon.

Your ever loving Uncle,
Eustace Dalrymple