Wittaker's diary : A very hot and bothersome day

Posted on March 03 2018

The recent heat wave has certainly shaken things up here at the house. After briefly indulging Felix the driver’s long held dream of becoming an inventor by funding his prototype air conditioning unit - which as far as I could tell involved nothing but Felix, a particularly large set of bellows and the contents of the freezer, Lady Annabel finally decided that the heat was simply unbearable and proceeded to decamp outside. Not one to do things by halves however, and despite my polite remonstrations about the fiery ball waxing heavily in the sky, the dear lady then decreed that the entire contents of the parlour must join her.

What followed was a somewhat challenging three hours gradually surrounding Lady Annabel and her guests with familiar things whilst they enjoyed tea and tiffin on the lawn, or in Lady Annabel’s case a decent tot of a good London Dry Gin disguised in the best porcelain. Admittedly my faith in a benevolent God was somewhat challenged when I became lodged under the Grand Piano, but eventually the parlour's contents were successfully transported under the midday sun, with a fast response team of Mrs Badwater the cook and her rambunctious seven-year old son Timothy on hand, ready to react at a moments notice to the ever-changing British weather. In order to streamline performance and prevent an unfortunate repetition of last years incident at the duck pond, Timothy also received an impromptu dose of his medicine discreetly inserted into a piece of his mother’s fruit cake. For now at least Timothy seems slightly less homicidal toward perfectly innocent mallards.


I must admit that despite my initial misgivings what followed was a wonderful day in the summer sunshine, including a delightful lunch of Mrs Badwater’s freshly baked bread and a nice Stilton, which did prove somewhat controversial for those seated downwind. So successful was the day in fact that Lady Annabel has decreed that we shall do it all again tomorrow, which might have been more efficient had she done so before I returned the Steinway.


With the sun setting now, nothing remains but to enjoy a well-deserved glass of single malt – a Balvenie 18-year no less, along with a good book, in this case Edmund Hilary’s riveting account of tackling Everest - an endeavour I now find myself with increased respect for.

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