After the MOST frightening hangover on Friday, I decided the best course of events would be to attend the local parish’s Farmer’s Market. What better to cure an ailing skull and tender embarrassments caused by debauch then the season’s newest greens and berries? NOTHING!

DO I DARE DREAM?

So on Saturday, off I pipped to the market, basket under my arm. Whilst tasting the most Delightful and Creamy sheep’s milk Gouda, a sudden tingle went up my spine. ‘Round I turned, and ran smack into the lovely Lady Jane Featherbottom! She was as fetching as honey in milk, with a lavender bonnet tied under her quivering chin and a calico gown trimmed with lace and ribbon.

“Gatsby, fine chum, fancy meeting you in the market this morn!” she exclaimed, daubing the corners of her MOST aristocratic eyes with a perfumed square of lace. I, for my part, was barely able to chumble out a sentence before her guardian, Duke William Tendertoes, RUDELY interrupted. His exact words – though I am pained to recall them – were, “Come Jane, let’s away to an area less infested by rodentia.” THE NERVE!

UNCOUTH

By the time I prepared a witty retort, he had squired the lady away to a waiting carriage. But sirs, that is not the end of things! Because over a turned shoulder, the Lady glanced at your dear Gatsby in a flutter of eyelash and freckles, and covertly released her love-ly scented lace square. I hold it now in my left hand, clutched to my bosom, and ponder the possibility of what worlds of magic and delight this beautiful creature may have to offer.

I must write her a letter immediately! Note to self: enclose a single peony. Ladies simply cannot resist a peony!