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Ah, what a lovely morning. Woke to the sounds of chirping birds just outside my open French doors to the master suite verandah. Rang for breakfast and stretched languorously a bit to come fully awake, wrapped in my sybaritic 1000TC Egyptian cotton sheets. Soon enough, the kitchen girl arrived with a breakfast tray (antique silver one from the ancestral collection). She propped it over my lap, fluffed my napkin for me, and told me that Ronnie had already breakfasted and was in the Summer garden with the kids. I thanked her and she departed, leaving me to dig into a quotidian offering of crisp bacon, over-medium eggs, and a nice Belgian waffle. A glass of blood orange juice to wake my palate and a cup of hot Ovaltine (a childhood holdover) to wash the food down.
As I broke my fast, I could faintly hear the laughter of Ronnie and the girls underneath the ubiquitous birdsong. Soon enough, I’d satisfied my hunger and called for the girl to retrieve my tray while I showered. A million hot streams from the all-around shower jets massaged my sleepy tissues to full wakefulness and I dried off, fresh and ready for the day. As I exited the shower room, my valet, Jeeves, stood ready with my clothes for the morning. Dressed and ready for the day, I descended the Great Staircase (so named to differentiate it from the Lesser Staircase and the Servants’ Staircase) to exit the manse into the glorious sunshine gracing our lovely grounds.
I hiked over to the Summer garden to join Ronnie and the girls in play.
As midday approached, Godfrey (our butler) led a couple of the kitchen girls out to us to offer a pleasant luncheon. Ronnie objected that the ’95 Chateau Margaux was too much for a mere garden luncheon but I was in the mood and, what-the-heck!, it did a fine job of helping the varietal offerings slide down my willing throat.
Replete, we returned to the manor for some post-prandial activities. The girls got online to do what teens do online, Ronnie and I touched base with them, then she went to do some things she had planned and I sat in the library to read while I waited for my new Bugatti Veyron to arrive. The chauffeur and the mechanic had gone to pick it up and I expected it at any moment.
A throaty VROOOM! coming up the drive told me that my new Bug was here. Ah! I leapt from my stuffed wingback, dropped my book on the antique table, and strolled oh-so casually to the front door. Up the long, curving drive they came. The mechanic in my hotrod, chopped-and-channeled ’48 Mercury leading the way, followed by my new Bug. So excited! I quickly called the local gendarme to clear the roads for me and took my new toy for a spin.
Zoom! She was all I’d hoped for and expected. What a ride! Too soon, it was time to abandon personal frivolity and return to the bosom of my family. I called and thanked the local LEO for his cooperation and left my new baby in the competent hands of my chauffeur and mechanic.
Upstairs for a quick shower to clear off the excitement sweat of my drive and a Jeeves-prepared change of clothes for a nice sit-down dinner with the family. Ah, the feel of a raw silk shirt on clean skin. Jeeves had also chosen one of my favorite jackets, an unstructured offering in sea-foam green linen from my favorite tailor. Suitably attired, I descended to the formal diningroom to meet my girls. We discussed our various afternoons as the staff served up course after course. I delight in a fine meal with my lovely family. Our discourse ranged from the pedestrian to the realms of quantum mechanics as we worked our way toward dessert.
After dinner, an amusing action comedy in the theater, then bedtime for a tired mom and dad. I think the girls stayed up skypeing with friends in other parts of the world.
Goodnight, world. I love our unschooling life.