April 11th,

I know that I have not updated lately in this little journal of mine, but things certainly have been off the trolley as of late.  I suppose like most of the gentility, I will recount the delights of days past in the following writings, as there has been much going on in my life as of recently.

Last friday I went to the chateau of Lady Zena and Duchess KC, quite possibly the most delightful ladies in all of christendom, for a bit of a box social.  I had felt a bit out of sorts however, as I had the gall to come without having brought a decanter of wine, or at very least, some moutaintop brandy.  I was accompanied by my longtime companion Daniel Hambright, a man of impeccable taste, if a bit off his rocker, if you excuse my crudity.  My word, it has been many a day when I have seen him greet another of our constituents with an informal 'heya' rather than the 'good-day' we are all so used to.  It was good to see that Daniel would be in rare form for that evening, as he had already remarked to me upon entering 'if the wine list isn't to my liking, I suggest we scoff at these faux aristocrats' to which I nearly chucked but stifled myself, knowing full well to chuckle is not befitting of a gentleman in this age.  And so we entered, doing our best to mingle among the various upstarts and broken hearts to be found festooned around the place.  I must admit that KC and Zena have always made for excellent hostesses, and Daniel found a simply charming mixed beverage in his hand before he could protest.  Naturally I abstained, as I'm nearly on my way to becoming a full on clergyman.  Hah.  The music was simply enchanting, and we spent the greater part of the evening gazing at the delectable clavicles and ankles of the womenfolk as they pranced about, even taking a chance to strut about the ballroom floor ourselves.  Everyone was there, hailing from all over our fair alma mater, even the reclusive Davide made an appearance.  If I had but a better purchase on the cliffs of romance, I may have even asked for a dance with one of these fair maidens, but once again, my gentlemanly abstinence told me better, and I remained passive as all good chaps should be.  Daniel began to complain about his humors, so as the social began to die down, we decided to find one of those quaint inns that would still be open, fraught with the potential dangers of provincial folk.  And so Lady Claire, Lady Katherine, Daniel and I departed in my horseless carriage to the nearest open tavern.  We laughed the night away and dined upon wild guinea fowl under a full moon, laughing and braying like tiny lambs upon the spit. 

The following day was wrought with much foolishness, as I had a caller of sorts!  I was as surprised as any other.  Surely it was a break in the traditional bonds to have a lady visiting a gentleman.  What is the world coming to?  Next I'd imagine that the womenfolk will be driving automobiles and talking for themselves.  My word, I surely hope they never reach that voting booth, it would be a shame to see our country fall to ruin at the hands of the germans.  We cannot defend our fair nation with thanksgiving dinners and scrumptious brownies!  (Though I must admit I wish we could, but my constitution couldn't take the sweetness)  We spent the afternoon amongst the lilies, took in a brief silent film about the evils of the little folk (as they call them in the old country).  All in all, a simply wonderful afternoon and early evening.  Following this, Daniel and I made our way to the great home of Lady Natalie and Madame Noel, a vivacious bunch to be sure, to enjoy the delights of a doctor whom I can't recall the name of at the moment.  He had some kind of time traveling phonograph of sorts, and his adventures served to titillate us for hours on end.  I found at this moment that the dear Madame Noel, though currently courted by a gentleman, had pulled at my hearstrings in a way most profound.  Apparently we both had had an interest in pugilism in the best, having an affinity for men locked in hand to hand combat, ready to fall at a moment's notice.  Oh woe is me, for I fear I had left my soul to wander those halls in that house. 

The week was spent with lazy callow, I spent most of my days wandering the labrynth of the mind, tweaking my manuscript on semiology and the like.  Afternoons were spent in what little sunshine we could pry from his majesty up above, and the young Erik and I spent many an hour on the dock, recounting times of sweet demure girls, and dipping our toes into the cool water.  It has always felt so wonderful to dabble in the fluffly clouds of memory with a companion.  The evenings however, I was wrought with much stress and strain, as I could not force myself to make the visits that I so wanted to.  I find myself intrinsically tied to many good people here, yet my work carries me so far away as to only be able to dabble in the occaisional letter or tip of the hat as I pass.  This past friday on the other hand, was certainly a break in the monotony of work, as I had the privelege of traveling to the great Mario's home to take part in a bit of lowbrow music making.  Frankly to cut loose and play some sinful notes was more than enough to lift my weighty spirits.  I think that I shall save the kerchief I had planned to give to the river in my self-murder, and instead wear it as an ascot in our coming performance, if only to hide my identity.  Oh to be seen as a ruffian would surely destroy my social stature.

Until next time, good readers...

Keith Richard Backhaus Esquire, Prince of Posh