EMAIL FROM A CASTLE IN THE SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS
and all those other names I used to call you when we were kids!
My darling SISTER! How the hell are you!
OK, I know it’s been a while. A loooong while, and I have to confess that it’s been so long that I’ve lost your phone number. Don’t even know how I remembered this email address but I hope you still check your email and that I remembered the address correctly (I’ll find out if it gets kicked back as “undeliverable”) – Also, I ditched my phone. Weird story, I know, like “who does that?” but it was a small price to pay for this new gig I have as a butler in this most incredibly mind-blowingly beautiful castle!
I have to admit, it was a bit weird at first. Castles are definitely colder than you’d imagine, even with tapestries on the walls. And I still have to get the hang of the bells in each room. There’s a series of ringers throughout the castle, and depending on which room you’re in, depends on what bells chime. That lets me know what room I need to go to in order to see who needs what.
The Baroness is a hoot! Sometimes I’ll hear the bell and go to whatever room she’s in and she’ll just be lying there on the floor in some skirt and boots – different kind of boots each time, like riding boots, thigh-high boots, go-go boots, and she’ll say things like, “Oh will you help me up, darling! I seem have fallen. But first, take a photo and post it to my IG” (the family are the only ones who have phones). I know she’s just teasing …
… and don’t worry Marj! I’m a lot different now and I don’t get in trouble like I used to! I learned my lesson from a valet gig I had at the Triple M (Montreal Murderbilia Museum) (but that’s a story for another time!) Like I said, at 50, I’ve slowed down a bit in that department. You’d be proud of me!
But not the cook! Gotta tell you about Essex. That’s his nickname. He’s had his name legally changed to Sex Slave, but we all just call him “Essex” for short. What a guy! The other night, I was hungry so I went downstairs to make a sandwich, and he comes out and says, “THE SANDWICH WILL TASTE EVEN BETTER WITH MY PENIS IN YOUR MOUTH!” and I’m like “Dude, I only want a sandwich”
… Essex always talks in this HUGE BOMBSTIC voice, it’s hilarious. But he made the BEST sandwich! Tuna, with little pimentos and this stuff that looked like cilantro.
Tonight at dinner, he started off the first course with soup, cream of potato, and the Baron commented on the flavor, and Essex says, “YOU ARE SAVOURING THE FLAVOUR OF MY SEMEN!” and without missing a beat, the Baron says, “I can tell that you’re staying hydrated and are eating a lot of lentils.”
The family, they have a daughter and a son, but I don’t see them much around the house. As far as the other staff, there’s Vasiliya, who likes to dress up as a French maid (even though I think she’s Finnish), and there’s the chauffeur/boatman/groundskeeper named Fionn.
I’d like to tell you more about them, but I need to go make a list of things to buy from the village. The Baron has invited all to go down tomorrow for something called the Mad Carnival. Don’t know exactly what it is (I didn’t get to see much of the village when I came through to take this job two weeks ago), so I don’t know if we will stand out or fit right in.
Like I said, the semi-electricity stuff is weird. As I said, only the family has phones, but I’ve got a laptop in my room to conduct business, and while there IS electricity here, the lights come on when Lara, the Baroness, speaks aloud one of her poems. Yes … when she speaks in poems, stuff HAPPENS!
Like I said, so much to tell you, but I really have to make this list: Essex wants a boatload of stuff from town, stuff like leeks, capers, and even though I’ve heard the term before, I need to find out exactly what the hell are “Ben Wa Balls” (can’t wait to Google THAT!) 😊
OK, Sis, again, I sure hope this is your email address and I hope you write back soon and I hope that everything is OK and that you haven’t buried your fourth husband under a pile of molten rock! (You know I’m only half-kidding, right?) 😊
Until you write me,
Your little brother,