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| Our chambermaid, Cosette |
I find myself thinking back to a few months ago when we were all out and about and mingling. It feels as though that was a completely different time; it’s like remembering the 1970s. The start of the quarantine is one of those demarcation points, such as pre and post 9/11 has become. It really infects (no pun intended) your thinking. Sometimes while watching a movie it’ll occur to me for a second that none of the characters are social distancing. Or someone will sneeze or cough without covering up and I’ll have a moment of shock.
Meanwhile a return to “normal” is seeming increasingly distant and there’s even a sense that it will never be “normal” again. Indeed “experts” are talking about how there will be a “new normal” as some things won’t go back to the way they were and others won’t for a long time. I’m guessing that restaurants, sports events, gyms, yoga classes, nightclubs will be very different experiences, at least in the short term. The prospects are frightening. But there’s reason to hope that it won’t be so bad. Maybe Trumpy will be soundly defeated in November and perhaps Democrats will re-take the senate. If these two things come to pass it will be a tremendous relief to the country and the national psyche and it may portend an era of more positivity and group responsibility and civility. One must hope so, anyway. As we get closer to “normal” there will certainly be a much greater appreciation for daily life from a lot of us — me, for sure. Meanwhile we’re still stuck in the doldrums. Some states are gradually re-opening -- prematurely -- suggesting that the virus will rebound and cause more devastation and those states will have to shut up tight again. In the US we are our own worst enemies, thanks in large part to the example set by our simpleton-in-chief. Why the hell did this pandemic have to happen on his watch? Woe is us.
On a humorous note:
Here in my household we have had to make cutbacks in our budget due to the pandemic and resulting financial strictures.
It was an easy call to let go of the pool boy as we have no pool (plus I always found that he was a bit too chummy with the missus). Likewise the stable boy was sent packing owing to the complete absence of a stable on our grounds — not to mention a certain lack of stability.
So too the chambermaid, Cosette, was laid off. Her presence was likewise redundant as we boast no chamber. Nor for that matter do we posses a scullery so the scullery maid has been dismissed. My valet, Gunther, has been retained as have the wife’s ladies-in-waiting and some of the ladies who are not waiting but merely loitering.
We have shut down our calliope until further notice and are no longer providing tours of the family crypts. The crypt keeper has been reduced to part time status. However our topiary is still being maintained as are the team of gardeners who oversee them. Our in-house museum and gift shop are shuttered for the duration, which will have the benefit of reducing the number of times I’m caught walking around wearing nothing more than a towel and a smile. Speaking of just wearing a towel, I may have to retain the chambermaid.
Both my personal secretary and girl Friday are sequestered with their families but remain on salary. Not so my chiropodist, Clive, who has been remanded into custody by the local constables for excess punning. It seems Clive has been going around talking about “toeing the line” his work being “no mean feat” how he has to have a lot of “soul” do his job, and how I am a “heel” who constantly tells him to “shoo.” His arrests demonstrates that the constable has put his foot down.
My wife’s personal astrologist, Abner, has resigned in embarrassment after failing to make a single correct observation or prediction during his entire tenure with us. Also departing is our personal maharishi, Nigel Ashley-Pitt. He's moving on to new adventures as an investment banker.
Lastly our Smithy, Angus Appleberry, has retired and we are seeking a replacement post haste. If interested please apply through the usual channels.
A bit about names:
About 30 years ago a trend started in the Western World in which a newborn child would not necessarily simply assume the last name of the paterfamilias. Instead, some children were given both parent’s last name, usually the mother’s first, with a hyphen separating the two. For example: Hortense McGee and Egbert Davis's child would be Sally McGee-Davis.
I’ll not comment on the reasons behind this trend but will say that occasionally it led to rather long and sometimes confusing last names. But to each his own and to each her own. I do wonder how often parents decided not to go with the double hyphened names and just went with dad’s or mom’s because the last names would not work in combination.
For example if Leslie Pool and Marvin Hall had a child, Betsy, it would hardly do for the little tyke to be called Betsy Pool-Hall. Imagine if you will Loretta Jefferson and Tyrone Davis and their son, Bobby being Bobby Jefferson-Davis. Francine Pitts and Curtis Berg would have a son named Darren Pitts-Burg. Leila Brown and Irving White’s daughter would be Melissa Brown-White. Tina Black and Osgood Mann’s daughter Chelsea would be stuck being Chelsea Black-Mann. Gina Fox and Perry Hunt’s little Ned would be saddled with Ned Fox-Hunt. The list goes on.
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