So you’ve been wondering what Uncle Bardie’s been up to lately. Well, I am here to tell you that you’re just not going to believe it. It’s enough to make a caveman blush. I have been out doing research for my new novel, The Absolutely Unbelievable Extraordinary Adventures of Lady Marye Wimpleseed-Prissypott, and the work has led me to some interesting places. It gave me a real opportunity to measure the lay of the land where her ladyship’s adventures took place.
First I went off to the jungles of Africa and swung with Tarzan. Man, that dude can swing. Got a chance to see the cave where Johnny Eager hid the diamonds. When I made it to London, Queen Victoria was in a foul mood. Seems Crown Prince Eddie, a regular party guy if ever there was one, came to a Halloween Costume Ball as Jack the Ripper. Had knives and a cape and everything. Set the tongues wagging. Boy, was his mum mad.
Paris was up to its usual Parisian ways. Seems I couldn’t roll my rs quite good enough to please the Parisians. Should have expected as much. Don’t think they would stand up very well if they came to my part of the country and tried to y’all the folks down here. ‘Course we wouldn’t snob things up the way they do. We’re a bit more hospitable than the Paris folks are.
Istanbul still can’t figure out whether it is Istanbul or Constantinople. Depends on which shore of the city you stand on. Asia or Europe. Managed to find Dilly’s old hamburger joint. Seems he carved a heart with “Dilly Loves Mary-Marie” before he went off and joined the Detroit Tigers. Don’t think he ever got over her. And oh, I gotta tell you. When I went to the Bazaar, I was followed by a man in a fez wanting a pheasant and he was a pleasant peasant. At first, I thought he was stalking me. He was just stalking that bird, that’s all.
I did manage to get to Haggismarche Manor. The ghosts are still there. B. P. welcomed me with a big howdy. The three house ghosts, B. P., Lord Early Grey and Sir Long John Longjohns, are happy as lollipops these days. They even showed me Lady P. P.’s wardrobe. Her corset and dresses are still there, preserved for posterity. The ghosts did discuss having a Convocation of Ghosts to honor me, but there wasn’t time. The Riders in the Sky were away and it would have taken fourscore and seven years to get them to chase down enough whoppee cushions to sit on. Something about a soft landing. Oh well, you just never know. When ghosts mumble, they do mumble.
But the really good news. They’ve totally rebuilt Gibraltar. After that little run-in with the S. S. Twit, I was concerned that the Gibraltarians wouldn’t be able to put it back together. But there it was standing in the middle of the Mediterranean, welcoming weary travelers for a stopover of tea and crumpets.
The really amazing thing is that the Castilians have put Quills’ cape and mask on display in Barcelona. Alongside the cape and mask of the Mighty Paddington, the Iranian Cubist Assassin. Found them in a little sandwich shop called Hero’s.
All in all it has been jolly good trip. Now I am back at my desk working hard to dress the novel up in its Sunday best. Just one more edit and I will be done. Then you’ll be seeing it on a Kindle near you.