Sentence The Fiftysixth
Despite the cavortings of the previous two nights – the Hen Party of The Famous Five (and the strange incident of the Glaswegian Sentry) then the many and various occurrences at the Wedding Reception following her Marriage to Daphne – Dr Maude Lyttleton (for there had never been any suggestion that either she or Daphne would drop her Maiden Name) rose bright and early on the following afternoon; she and her Spouse, who had known one another since they were five years of age and started at their Infant School – though they had in fact been aware of each other previously, being cousins through their Mothers, but it was that awareness of very small children who haven't yet quite grasped all of the niceties of familial or societal relationships and are as happy playing on the pavement with the chimney-sweep's sooty daughter as with their aunt's immaculate child and spotlessly-dressed offspring under the feet of the servants in the kitchen while their parents enjoy a nip and a natter in the Drawing Room above their heads – enjoyed a light lunch for, truth be told, anything more than sweet tea would have lain very heavily on Maude's troubled tummy at this early hour after her many fortifications of the past forty-eight hours), and then stowed their luggage (which Theresa and The Famous Four had prepared earlier) in Daphne's little Morris Minor and set off on their Honeymoon, accompanied by the cacophony of a shivaree, as they dragged several saucepans, an old copper kettle, umpteen tin cans and two dustbin lids, which their packers had also prepared for their departure – this assembly burst free of the car as they swung through the roundabout at the bottom of The High Street and was left behind for the scavengers who loiter in the vicinity of Holyrood, hoping for largesse from any passing MSP or Royal Equerry; as both of the ladies were heavily engaged in those matters which had developed rapidly after the brief incarceration of Daphne in the deep, dark, and potentially final, oubliette far 'neath the Heart of Midlothian, this was to be just a short break – a few days golfing while relaxing in the pretty village of Gullane, just a short drive (no puns, please forgive) along the coast from their Home Town; neither had played the game very often, or at all seriously, in the years since their infancy when it was usually played by street urchins using a stick to drive a stone into an open manhole and then scamper before the man came out of his hole, although Maude had enjoyed several weekends with The Famous Four – who then became The Famous Five – Sans Mans, which was, they all felt, the best and only proper state of society conducive to the Friendly, Female, Fun and Frolics, which were, for them, the real purpose of a bright, young woman's life on earth; of course Daphne might have so easily become consumed by the Game (she could never, in her heart embrace it as a Sport which, to her mind, involved moving at a faster pace than ambling, regardless of the purpose of that movement, or whether it was individual or as a member of a team) for as everyone will remember, her Mother, as Lady Chantelle Lillico before her Marriage to Sir Duncan, was of course (please stop these irrelevant puns, darling) an Amateur Champion at a time when so many Clubs (stoppit, Teri) would never dream of admitting Lady Members, and had in fact soundly beaten Bobby Jones in a Private Challenge shortly before he won the Open for the first time, in 1926, but of course her father, Daphne's Dear Papa, had his own 18-hole course at Old Lillico House not half a dozen long drives from Peebles and discreetly not indicated on any of the direction pointers, which spared the family the disruption of day-trippers wandering across the fairways and meant that Chantelle and her Maid, Serafina, who was also her Caddy, could play around the course twice, at least, on a fine day – Serafina herself was a natural born golfer, having never had any instruction other than Lady Chantelle demonstrating the proper grip, and their games were real needle-matches, with the result often not certain until they approached the 18th Green; but poor Daphne was never a fan of exertion, other than that involved in digging holes in the ground with her father, and carrying ancient artefacts up rickety ladders to expose them to the light of day for the first time in thousands of years; just as Serafina took naturally to golf, so Maude was likewise born to be an archaeologist – although as she matured she became less interested in objects and more in her researches through early printed books, handwritten parchments and the recorded – though often forgotten – lives of all classes during the Mediaeval period (her own speciality being Late-Early) and these she pursued with far greater diligence than even her mother pursued Serafina across the Links; and so, with many a thought in their heads, the Happy Couple set off for the short drive out of Edinburgh and into East Lothian and, after a few stops at dainty, wayside tea-rooms for refreshments and the use of their conveniences, finally arrived at Forth View Guest House where they were booked in for several nights, very handily situated for the Golf Links, not so far really from Musselburgh (as they hoped to spend a pleasant afternoon at the Races on Saturday) and just a short walk from 'The Jolly Boatman', a spit-and-sawdust pub of which Maude had heard some interesting tales about it's clientèle from several of The Five, who had also recommended a boat trip to The Bass, a giant Rock standing a little out to sea and slightly to the East, though she conceded that (other than the tale of the Hermit, St Baldred, who seemed to have had a touch of Jerusalem Syndrome when he prophesied that – as the Messiah – he would save all who joined him on this one Holy Rock, before the imminent End of Time, which inexplicably didn't end, and he was left alone once more when his five followers abandoned him) almost her own knowledge of it rested upon sweet John Grieve singing a mournful ditty about a Solon Goose that dwelt 'on the Desolate Bass' on a BBC Hogmanay show quite a few decades ago – they had in fact given Maude the name of a local sailor (Miss Phemie Lauder) whom they described as a great sport and full of fun and mischief, which certainly piqued Maude's interest, as did the fact that she was a member of the same family that had included Harry Lauder as one of it's best-known members – yes, she rather fancied getting to know the rambunctious Miss Lauder, perhaps over a Noggin in the Boatman, where she might be prevailed upon to sing 'stop yer ticklin', Jock' - who knows?
Despite the cavortings of the previous two nights – the Hen Party of The Famous Five (and the strange incident of the Glaswegian Sentry) then the many and various occurrences at the Wedding Reception following her Marriage to Daphne – Dr Maude Lyttleton (for there had never been any suggestion that either she or Daphne would drop her Maiden Name) rose bright and early on the following afternoon; she and her Spouse, who had known one another since they were five years of age and started at their Infant School – though they had in fact been aware of each other previously, being cousins through their Mothers, but it was that awareness of very small children who haven't yet quite grasped all of the niceties of familial or societal relationships and are as happy playing on the pavement with the chimney-sweep's sooty daughter as with their aunt's immaculate child and spotlessly-dressed offspring under the feet of the servants in the kitchen while their parents enjoy a nip and a natter in the Drawing Room above their heads – enjoyed a light lunch for, truth be told, anything more than sweet tea would have lain very heavily on Maude's troubled tummy at this early hour after her many fortifications of the past forty-eight hours), and then stowed their luggage (which Theresa and The Famous Four had prepared earlier) in Daphne's little Morris Minor and set off on their Honeymoon, accompanied by the cacophony of a shivaree, as they dragged several saucepans, an old copper kettle, umpteen tin cans and two dustbin lids, which their packers had also prepared for their departure – this assembly burst free of the car as they swung through the roundabout at the bottom of The High Street and was left behind for the scavengers who loiter in the vicinity of Holyrood, hoping for largesse from any passing MSP or Royal Equerry; as both of the ladies were heavily engaged in those matters which had developed rapidly after the brief incarceration of Daphne in the deep, dark, and potentially final, oubliette far 'neath the Heart of Midlothian, this was to be just a short break – a few days golfing while relaxing in the pretty village of Gullane, just a short drive (no puns, please forgive) along the coast from their Home Town; neither had played the game very often, or at all seriously, in the years since their infancy when it was usually played by street urchins using a stick to drive a stone into an open manhole and then scamper before the man came out of his hole, although Maude had enjoyed several weekends with The Famous Four – who then became The Famous Five – Sans Mans, which was, they all felt, the best and only proper state of society conducive to the Friendly, Female, Fun and Frolics, which were, for them, the real purpose of a bright, young woman's life on earth; of course Daphne might have so easily become consumed by the Game (she could never, in her heart embrace it as a Sport which, to her mind, involved moving at a faster pace than ambling, regardless of the purpose of that movement, or whether it was individual or as a member of a team) for as everyone will remember, her Mother, as Lady Chantelle Lillico before her Marriage to Sir Duncan, was of course (please stop these irrelevant puns, darling) an Amateur Champion at a time when so many Clubs (stoppit, Teri) would never dream of admitting Lady Members, and had in fact soundly beaten Bobby Jones in a Private Challenge shortly before he won the Open for the first time, in 1926, but of course her father, Daphne's Dear Papa, had his own 18-hole course at Old Lillico House not half a dozen long drives from Peebles and discreetly not indicated on any of the direction pointers, which spared the family the disruption of day-trippers wandering across the fairways and meant that Chantelle and her Maid, Serafina, who was also her Caddy, could play around the course twice, at least, on a fine day – Serafina herself was a natural born golfer, having never had any instruction other than Lady Chantelle demonstrating the proper grip, and their games were real needle-matches, with the result often not certain until they approached the 18th Green; but poor Daphne was never a fan of exertion, other than that involved in digging holes in the ground with her father, and carrying ancient artefacts up rickety ladders to expose them to the light of day for the first time in thousands of years; just as Serafina took naturally to golf, so Maude was likewise born to be an archaeologist – although as she matured she became less interested in objects and more in her researches through early printed books, handwritten parchments and the recorded – though often forgotten – lives of all classes during the Mediaeval period (her own speciality being Late-Early) and these she pursued with far greater diligence than even her mother pursued Serafina across the Links; and so, with many a thought in their heads, the Happy Couple set off for the short drive out of Edinburgh and into East Lothian and, after a few stops at dainty, wayside tea-rooms for refreshments and the use of their conveniences, finally arrived at Forth View Guest House where they were booked in for several nights, very handily situated for the Golf Links, not so far really from Musselburgh (as they hoped to spend a pleasant afternoon at the Races on Saturday) and just a short walk from 'The Jolly Boatman', a spit-and-sawdust pub of which Maude had heard some interesting tales about it's clientèle from several of The Five, who had also recommended a boat trip to The Bass, a giant Rock standing a little out to sea and slightly to the East, though she conceded that (other than the tale of the Hermit, St Baldred, who seemed to have had a touch of Jerusalem Syndrome when he prophesied that – as the Messiah – he would save all who joined him on this one Holy Rock, before the imminent End of Time, which inexplicably didn't end, and he was left alone once more when his five followers abandoned him) almost her own knowledge of it rested upon sweet John Grieve singing a mournful ditty about a Solon Goose that dwelt 'on the Desolate Bass' on a BBC Hogmanay show quite a few decades ago – they had in fact given Maude the name of a local sailor (Miss Phemie Lauder) whom they described as a great sport and full of fun and mischief, which certainly piqued Maude's interest, as did the fact that she was a member of the same family that had included Harry Lauder as one of it's best-known members – yes, she rather fancied getting to know the rambunctious Miss Lauder, perhaps over a Noggin in the Boatman, where she might be prevailed upon to sing 'stop yer ticklin', Jock' - who knows?
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