Postcards that were never sent ...
Mes Amis en Aquitaine,
With this horrid pestilence going round, I’ve been spending a lot of time in the keep so I thought it about time to catch up on my missive writing. I’ll try to keep it short because the scribes do get cramp, poor things.
It’s been a busy year. We decided to crown young Henry as part of his Christmas present (well, what does one give the heir to the throne?). I’d honestly run out of ideas until his father came up with that one.
Geoff and Connie are getting along fine. They’ve bought a castle in Brittany together. Connie is expecting and if it’s a boy, they’ll call him Arthur to shut up all those radical Bretons who are always ranting on about the Pendragon Second Coming.
Richie got a High Distinction in Jousting but I do worry about him. ‘Look at the big picture not just the pages’, I keep telling him. Of course, he will do sleepovers at his friend Blondel’s and I know Blondel’s parents aren’t as strict as Henry and I.
Johno? Ah, our problem. He’s seeing a therapist about his mood swings. He had a good exam result in maths and economics, but I don’t think the other students like him very much.
We’ve had a French student, Alys, doing an exchange stay with us. Henry has been spending a lot of time teaching her our English sort of French and how to write English French letters. At least that what I think he said.
Tom Beckett’s in town again. I do hope he and Henry won’t have ones of their nasty arguments on Intelligent design – they do get very irritated over the hypocras and wafers.
Anyway, there’s my tidings for now. Remember to keep the drawbridge up!
To My Lady Wife, Hawise, Duchess of Gloucester
Sorry, darl, but I’ve decided to divorce you and marry that young French chick, Isabella of Angouleme. Yeh, I know it’ll come as a bit of a shock and I’m being a bastard an’ it’ll ruin your holiday but Life sucks, eh.
En route to to Paris, 1415
To His Grace, Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester
No, I can’t make it back yet and could someone find me a damned phrase book! I’m meeting the French bird this afternoon.
Windsor Castle 1474
Can I ask you to stop peddlin’ that old chestnut about us being descended from some weirdo called Melusine. I’ve called in a makeover consultant to improve my image and she says that has got to stop. Can’t you take up a normal hobby like pottery instead?
And, BTW, that pointy hat that you got me at Witchery doesn’t help either. Maybe I can change it if you kept the receipt.
The kids are OK. Little Richard has a rash. It’s these new disposable swaddling bands. The last lot blocked the garderobe in the Tower for a week.
Tony’s bought himself some fancy jousting armour but I think he’s getting past it. Pity Dad and Johnno are not still around. They could have talked him out of it.
What do I want for Christmas? New in-laws????? Bet Melusine can’t help me with that one. George is still hitting the malmsey like there’s no tomorrow. He should join Medieval AA though that might be worse as he might start another rebellion if he sobers up. At least boring Dick and sniffy Anne are not coming down south this year. Bess is disappointed though. ‘Uncle’ gave her one of his soft toy white boars last year.
You asked what we were doing for Christmas. Well, it won’t be boring old Grafton. Ed fancies going to France but he wants to take EVERYONE! As if!