For the past two weeks or so it’s been quiet here in Hardy Country. The Free Markets were sailing on their yacht somewhere in the eastern Mediterranean and I was pretty much left to my own devices here at the Towers. This meant that I could catch up with my reading, and the staff could recover from the floggings.
However, Mrs. FM returned home last night and Mr. FM remained in the capital to continue his calling, i.e. oppressing the working classes. This means that life will return to its quiet pastoral nature out here, except that the gardener is going to get soundly chastised for allowing the lawns to exceed the prescribed 2″ in height.
I think I’ll have some breakfast, watch the flogging and then go for a ride on the grounds. Colonel Brandon would approve.
At the usual one stroke of the cat ‘o nine tails per blade of grass over 2″, you’re never going to get that ride if you watch the flogging. Better skip it and go riding.
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