Storms at the Hall

What Ho Proles!

Storm force gales here in C---- N---- and I’ve had to oversee some of the local chaps I sent up onto the barn roof to keep it tied down. It was a damn close call but we managed to save the old place. And at a cost of only three labourers too. Damn slackers went and got themselves blown off the job. I suppose they thought it would be easier work. I have no sympathy for them and it served them right that they were sent flying into the lake. We’ll try to fish them out tomorrow morning, weather permitting, but in the meantime, they’ll come to no harm. Nothing to worry about but a bit of water... It might even do them some good and teach them a proper work ethic.

I'm afraid it means the next part of my Memoirs has gone AWOL for today. I don’t want to touch it tonight on account of not wanting to get my papers wet and, since My Man has put a hammer through his hand, I’ve had to stop him getting blood on the manuscript. I've told him he can finish typing it up tomorrow morning before he brings me my breakfast. Of course, that's after the doctor’s checked that My Man's leg isn’t as broken as My Man claims it is. The chap shouldn’t have damn well fell off that roof but isn't that servants for you? Don't they just go and do the ruddy opposite of what you tell them to?

Anyway, I’m off for a hot bath before bed. We’ll speak soon.

Toodle pip.