Well damn me if, what with all the excitement of the past few weeks, I haven't been remiss in my dispatch-writing duties. Sorry chaps.
After last month's truce, it is with deep regret that I have to report that war has broken out once again. This time, the enemy within known as the catering corps sent a particularly vicious Lieutenant in a charcoal grey suit to commandeer my library for the purpose of serving breakfast and lunch to an assorted bunch of civilians. Naturally I attempted to fight back, firing volleys of books at her, but every time I sallied forth from the bunker (aka the Luxury Office Suite, aka the Broom Cupboard-soon-to-be-a-Disabled-Loo) she retaliated by locking me in said bunker, so my only remaining weapon was a pair of field glasses which I used to peer round diners in order to attempt to navigate the library without putting them off their food. I had to be 'cunning as a fox who's just been appointed Professor of Cunning at Oxford University' as my old army mate Baldrick used to say, as the buggers had tried to outfox me by strategically placing the CO in the midst of the diners in an attempt to demoralise my troops by giving the impression he'd switched sides.
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(booksale picture by Susanica at susanica.com)
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bash where we will be selling off some of the regimental silver in order to raise dosh for new uniforms for some of the younger chaps. In doing this I'm imitating my idol the Iron Lady: not sure the Iron Duke would approve, but I'm sure Gideon Osborne would; in fact I'm offering him first refusal on some of the leftover wallpaper as I hear his family has a particular interest. Have already done a deal with a retired Naval commander over some volumes of Jane's Fighting Ships which were surplus to requirements, so I'm the very model of a modern major general.
Meanwhile all's quiet on the Eastern Front: Have been sprucing up some of the regiments courtesy of large amounts of universal book cleaner - that caused a stink I can tell you. Balzac and De Foe objected at first, thinking I was attempting some sort of Bowdlerisation, but frankly they look so much better now, they may even end up getting read.
Must go - Rigsby's asked me to organise a regimental dinner the week after next and I have to write the agenda. Toodle-pip
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