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[17 Jul 2011|04:06pm] |
I've been back at work for roughly a month after an all-too-brief vacation, and I've got a taste for another. I think it make be time to move on from the bird ladies, as they're so affectionately known. Nothing against the little creatures themselves, of course - infinitely fascinating things - but their human allies are a little on the dusty side. I need less donation-collecting and more pheasant-hunting.
I'd love to get a good hunt going, if anyone's interested. I'm out of practice, but it's good fun anyway.
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[20 Jun 2011|12:00pm] |
Yesterday I got hauled through a mud puddle near the rear entrance to Richmond Cemetery when one of my dogs took off after a squirrel. They all walk on one lead, so identifying the culprit is more or less impossible - and anyway, if you've ever been around a pack when one of them gets wind of something, you know how little lag time there is between the first one to take notice and the last. Regardless of which one's at fault, it's a shocking lapse in discipline. As they say: no biscuit.
On the other hand, I rather like what a good spattering of mud does to my favorite pair of boots. I think they get better with age. I've never understood some people's love for new shoes.
( Draco )
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[13 May 2011|11:14am] |
Our black-winged foal is six weeks old today, and as cantankerous as expected. I'm still not quite sure why father didn't get rid of it straightaway, but he's finally been convinced that there's no need to keep it for the customary year. The auction will take place on Tuesday, the 17th of May. If you want an ill-tempered animal that as far as I can tell combines the worst traits of a Granian and a Thestral, do come by with your pocketbook.
Incidentally, I've always thought the Far East had the Europeans pretty solidly beat out when it comes to piratical fashion. Silk and jade and whatnot, rather than old wool and leather. The benefits of a tropical climate, I suppose. Are there in-between options? Do Vikings even count?
[Mrs. Malfoy]
I know you'd expressed some interest in seeing the poor creature - perhaps you'd like to come by the auction? Or at some earlier date, at your convenience.
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[05 May 2011|12:28pm] |
My recent attempts at gossip-mongering have been only partially successful. While a large portion of tea-taking spinster society now believes that the incorrigible (and yet pitiful) dark-haired boy who alternately picks pockets and begs outside of the Marks & Spencer on High Holborn is the unfortunate by-blow of one of the Higgs brothers, it's become clear that tea-taking spinster society is a rather closed circle. It seems to pass stories exclusively between its members, and as such has developed a taste for well-worn accounts of stuffed-shirt men getting drunk at dinners and horrid old women making people vastly uncomfortable at luncheons. Worst of all, I think they've decided I'm one of them. The next time an elderly lady comes into my office and asks if she can shut the door, I think I may jump out the window.
I'm willing to buy a drink for anyone who wants to tell me a story that's not about some doddering supercentenarian bringing shame to his family. I know some of you have jobs where things happen and are not simply rehashed over and over and over.
[Private to Greg]
I'd meant to take you to lunch this week to see how things are going - do you have a couple hours free, some afternoon? And in the meantime, is all progressing swimmingly? No horrible mishaps?
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[12 Apr 2011|04:47pm] |
Most of the pearl-clutching has settled down at work, but I'd say the average height of any given person's eyebrows remains somewhat above normal. Now that I'm not being picked clean for any and all details I may know or at one point have heard whispered in the library about anyone connected with the Greengrass family, I have the time to thank them publicly, as they deserve, for making my life so much more interesting. I wish I could return the favor, but scarcely know how. Is there a rumor one of you would particularly like spread through the network of blue haired ladies who luncheon to which I have such privileged access?
The clutch of Waxwing eggs that's been incubating away in my hawthorn has hatched, and the fledglings are attempting to throw themselves out of the nest with what I fear will be mortal haste. Sometimes life presents one with the strangest coincidences.
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[24 Mar 2011|05:48pm] |
The latest foal at Moon Stables is, I'm afraid, rather a disappointment. So much so that my father felt it necessary to owl at six o'clock this morning to tell me it had been born with black wings - a serious fault that certainly disqualifies it from any formal competition, and may well remove it from the category of Granian altogether. (Not to accuse the British Pterequestrian Federation of undue rigidity, but one wonders what the poor, ugly thing is if it's not a Granian.) This sort of event is always a blow to a breeder, but if anyone's looking for a somewhat imperfect companion animal, I think you'll find it's priced reasonably enough.
Speaking of reasonably priced, the Society is having its annual spring dinner in April - nothing on the scale of the recent revelry, and probably quite a bit higher when it comes to the average age of attendees, but nonetheless a place to be on a Saturday evening. It's fun to watch what passes for dancing with the graying set.
( Draco )
( Private )
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[04 Feb 2011|09:20am] |
Since the first of December I've seen nothing but carrion crows and starlings, the usual denizens of the graveyard, when I have a few minutes to watch from my window. I don't mind the drearier birds, but the lack of variety is getting to be a bore. There's nothing to be seen from the office but the worst sort of pigeons, and there's something about the cold and the mud that makes the dogs go simply mad when we're out walking - if there were anything at all to see in the first place, they'd scare it off at once, the damned monsters.
I was very pleased, then, to discover a nest of Bohemian Waxwings starting in the hawthorn tree I keep on the patio. I think it's a splendid omen. I hope they have a strong enough clutch that they can spare me a fledgling. The plumage is just gorgeous - it would be a shame to let it all escape.
On the subject of plumage, I know the Society will be donating a collection of indigenous quills to the auction on the 26th, as well as Horatio, one of the sweeter-tempered birds from our Great Horned Owl Rescue. I think quills are morbid, personally - much better in hats than as pens - but Horatio's a dear. Someone ought to snatch him up.
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