What Ho Proles!
I awoke to a commotion this morning. It seems that the boy who delivers our milk has been stealing apples from our orchard. Not at all the sort of thing I would normally bother myself about, you understand, as I believe in a hands-off approach in such trivial matters as keeping the locals in order. I leave all remedial lashings to my estate manager who, with his usual efficiency, would have put the strap across the lad's backside and we'd have heard no more about the matter. Our problem lay in the fact that the boy is the son of the local rector and we all know that God would get a look-in should we take justice into our own hands. You just can't go applying the strap to the local peasantry like you could in the old days. Makes me go misty-eyed at the loss.
Luckily, I have nothing to take me into the city today, but my R&R has been severely compromised by my now having to go and see the Reverend and explain his son's taste for forbidden fruit.
No doubt I will report in later. I'm not relishing an encounter with one of God's servants. They usually ask me about my sins and I can't help but tell them about how virtuous I am.
Hey ho and all that merry jazz,
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