You are Wondering – another episode of what’s on and not at the Pig’s Arms.
Written by Sandshoe.
You personally speaking, I don’t mean. You are the amorphous everybody or nobody in particular or special. You, speaking personally, have no dimension. You who is every person other than myself is meant, reading this episode or not. It is a treat for the Bish and Father O’Way that I am writing this. For you all too, but the Bish and Sandy most especially who could not have the big party they planned as an At Home.
I’m not meaning to exclude. I feel their until now unheralded disappointment. Y’all likely do not know, not yet, how crushing the disappointment was, leastwise unless you are one of ‘em, the neighbours who caterwauled that they, Bish and Sandy, would bring us … you know … undone … having people round. Feared it was whispered later when the authorities intervened they would catch you-know-what over the hedge, carried on a wisp of a breeze if not borne by a cyclonic act of an almighty.
We have not been blessed. By ‘we’ I mean y’all and I. It’s not all plain sailing anywhere much. You would think we could maybe waylay it at a crossroads. Not me exactly, precisely. I could not, I am sure. The organism blunders randomly round riding a breeze, catching a wave for all we know.
There was The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy. I am digressing and addressing you, the unknown and the known, the tried and true, but as well the unidentified you. The Bish turned up at the manse with suitcases to stay. Instead of having a party, the Bish and Sandy did a reading for a select group (sorry Bish, sorry Sandy as well I did not report). Your reading was a resounding success. The parallels were not missed. A reading of the narrative by Emma Magdolna Rozália Mária Jozefa Borbála Orczy de Orci, who is the Baroness Orczy, was fitting. Yes, these old friends read and enacted The Scarlet Pimpernel, by Emmuska Orczy as the Baroness titled herself.
They seek him here, they seek him there
Those Frenchies seek him everywhere
Is he in heaven or is he in hell?
That demned elusive Pimpernel…
Whose blood has not thrilled to the mystery and intrigue surrounding the heroism of the central hero, Sir Percy Blakeney the lead figure of the League of the Pimpernel. What better site for the reading than the Sportsman bar at the Pig’s Arms. Hear the sounds in 1792 of the same friendly although socially distanced hospitality the Pig’s Arms affords patrons.
“No, no,” proclaims Sir Percy in response to commiserations regarding his welfare put to him, “it doesn’t put me out, friend; nothing will put me out, unless that supper is not the very best which Miss Sally can cook, and which has ever been served in ‘The Fisherman’s Rest.’”
“You need have no fear of that, my lord,” said Sally, who all this while had been busy setting the table for supper. And very gay and inviting it looked, with a large bunch of brilliantly coloured dahlias in the centre, and the bright pewter goblets and blue china about.
“How many shall I lay for, my lord?”
“Five places, pretty Sally, but let the supper be enough for ten at least—our friends will be tired, and, I hope, hungry. As for me, I vow I could demolish a baron of beef to-night.”
“Here they are, I do believe,” said Sally, excitedly, as a distant clatter of horses and wheels could now be distinctly heard, drawing rapidly nearer.
The Bish and Sandy, you will not mind my saying so if you are wondering, even aside the argument about the use of the word ‘Frenchies’ was unseemly, your rendition was most appreciated as a contribution in these difficult times.
Footnote: The Scarlet Pimpernel can be found for a read at Gutenberg.