Valentine's Day (once more)

My sweet lovelies,

Mes cheris,

Meine Lieblinge (see, those German lessons did pay off!),

A very, very, happy St Valentine's Day to you all.

It has been a delightful year. Al and I are currently at the airport, and I have finally managed to take a look at my ticket.

Venice.

He's taking me to Venice.

You gorgeous man you.

As I said four days ago, All's Well That Ends Well - the Bard was right. Writing this blog was fantastic, even though sometimes I was treated to the lovely sounds of, in Adamsian terms, hearing deadlines whoosh by.

All my love to Algernon, Gwendolen, Ernest, Prism, Chasuble, Lady Augusta Bracknell, and even those lads at Darjeeling Productions whom I've never met but who made Gwen's vlog possible.

Everything is fine in the end. Everything is fine, so this is the end.

And it has been prepared for.

All's Well That Ends Well

I HAVE A BROTHER IN LAW. And I've known him for simply ages.

I'm so excited - I love Jack like a brother, and now he is.

Or should I say, Ernest.

Shame that Al can't be named Ernest then, although he'll always be my earnest suitor.


Also I say brother-in-law, but not really of course. Who gets married so young these days? Al will have to put in his due time courting me, obviously.

Ah yes, and Prism, she needs to end up in a happy ending too, at some point. I hope she and Dr Chasuble find the love they deserve.

And wouldn't you know it - Valentine's Day is coming up, and it has been almost exactly a year since I first started this blog. Slightly over, even, seeing as I put up a Testing-post before starting for real. I said I wanted something to read on the tube and bus, and obviously reading on my phone saves me the hassle of lugging about a physical diary. In that regard, this blog wasn't the worst idea in the world. Plus, I really like going back to read what I've been doing.

It has been almost a year since I daydreamed about Ernest taking me to fancy restaurants and to see fancy operas - and now I have my Ernest, tangibly, even though his name is Al.

How sweet and perfect a year can be.

And so here end my first year as a blogger, more or less. I will have to say my goodbyes, and then Al is taking me on a trip for Valentine's. So romantic - though I wish he wouldn't keep the destination a secret!

So all's well that ends well, and here is where we open that bottle of Belle Epoque and celebrate our joy.

Because every day should be delightful.

Cucumber sandwiches

I am in need of a life time's supply of cucumber sandwiches to sit through all this drama.

Poor Ms Prism

How is it that Prism and Chasuble still have not hooked up?

Or, given their respective and respectable ages (I presume), not found themselves in each other's arms?

They clearly are very fond of each other, and I have done everything in my power to make them see the light, yet they are not at that point yet.

I'm disappointed.

True, Chasuble seems rather clueless, perhaps too keen on his profession and spending his time professionally, unable to see what's right in front of him.

Perhaps unable to believe that Prism might care for him?

In any case, he is far too easily flustered, and has far too little confidence in himself. I presume that for those so inclined, he makes rather a charming older man-type love interest. And he's certainly in the right age range for Prism.

Prism, too, seems unable to comprehend that Chasuble might have feelings for her. I'm not surprised, also because Chasuble is so completely unable to express himself, fool that he is. Therapists are always the ones in greatest need of therapy, isn't it?

But still. She could be more obvious, inviting Chasuble to believe in the possibilities. And she never shies away from telling me and Jack off for landlady-related things, and she has a brilliant grasp on whatever any of her tenants are up to.

You wouldn't normally cross Prism, even though she's perfectly lovely when you're friendly and polite to her. I have tea with her for a reason.

So why can't she make a move on Chasuble, and why can't Chasuble recognise in other people what they feel about him, when he's been trained to do exactly that with regard to feelings and presumptions toward other things and people?

Something needs to happen here, and I'm going to make it happen.

They deserve to be happy and one way to do that is through fulfilling desires. If they want each other - they're single, independent, clever people. This can only work out well.

Drama drama

I do not understand Gwen's Mum's aversion to her dating Jack - Jack is perfectly lovely, after all.

And I do not understand why she is so hostile to me.

Does she not know what my Father does? (well then, neither do I)

Does she not know that I stand to inherit? (well, at some point or other)

How could she be opposed to me and Algernon? He is only her nephew, what say has she in whom he fancies?

Poor Jack.

Poor Al.

Poor Gwen.

I mean, it's not like I intend to marry him, or anything - not now, in any case. I won't marry anyone until I'm at least thirty-five, and have misspent all my youth doing things one should do whilst young, like spending money one can't afford, and visiting places that give one all sorts of nasty infections, like Hepatitis and Malaria and Rubella, and eating indigestible foods.

I just intend of having a wonderfully lovely affair with Al, as long as it lasts.

That reminds me, perhaps it is time to break it off with him again, just for a bit, to keep the drama fresh. I could tell him his Aunt scares me - she does - but that seems too significant a reason.

One mustn't be averse to others, unless they are perfectly hideous. But I am not, so there is that.

Now, Prism and Chasuble - there's a relationship that needs to happen first before it can be broken off. There's a good hobby to take my mind off things.

Gwen's Mum

Cecily Cardew.

I am Cecily Cardew, and I am a friend of your daughter's, a friend - the housemate, actually - of your daughter's boyfriend, and the girlfriend of your - cousin? Nephew? Whatever Al actually meant by 'aunt'.

I am Cecily Cardew, I am 22 years of age and have finished my Bachelor of Arts in Art History over the summer. I speak French and am a rather good artist. I spend my day to day life reading literature and political philosophy, but I am not keen on geography. I am still taking German lessons, despite my feeling any sort of interest for the language, although I would love to be able to read Grimm in the original.

Ah, dommage, l'esprit d'escalier, toutes les reponses et aucun des possibilites pour repondre. 

Gwen's Mum, the terrifying Augusta Bracknell, has found her way to our house. This in itself would not have been cause for concern, were it not that she seems to have rather some issues with Gwen and how she wants to live her life.

No wonder Gwen has issues.

Gwen caught her on video, so Dr Chasuble can presumably take the footage and run with it, do a whole sort of Freudian analysis on why Gwen's issues are all the fault of her Mum's tyrannical ways.

The woman reminds me of a dragon, swooping in, scorching the lands with her vicious breath, destroying or attempting to destroy everything in sight.

Even her name suggests the utmost pompousness. 'Augusta'. The great, the glorious, the august.

Augusta the Great? I doubt it. More like Augusta the Terrible.

But now I am being terribly unfair and horribly impolite. I hardly know the woman, going off Gwen's anecdotes and a one-time impression. Perhaps she is normally very lovely.

I doubt it, however.

But we will see Gwen through this, for I owe it her.

New Year's Resolutions

Everyone's supposed to have new year's resolutions, so I suppose I'll have some too.

In any case, I've had plenty of time to think since the new year started, and I think I know now what I want out of 2015.

1. More drawing. I liked it, and it's a lovely way to pass the time. L'art pour l'art, and all that. 
2. An occupation. Whether volunteering, or a job, or anything. I must do something.
3. Al.
   In all his forms, he is what I want out of 2015. 

These are my only resolutions. I have none about self-improvement - because you can't improve what's already perfect.

I'm not saying I'm perfect as a person, but I'm perfect to me, and to Al.

And Al is perfect to me.

So that's all right then.

Also Gwen's Mum terrifies me.