Rear Admiral Beasley Uxbridge Mountemyoung (fondly known to his crew and
cronies as "Admiral BUM") wishes to be added to this list, thus I have CCd
him on this e-mail.
31 January, 2007
Fine shooting, Furrier!
A quick moment to commend you on these fine daguerrotypes, I AM pleased we
have one of the remarkable lobby architecture for our records, as well as a
record of Ravenshaw, the newest addition to our clan.
I shall go through my own records at greater length soon, that we may have a
voluminous album of imagery to take us through the cold winter months until
we all may meet again for gin, conviviality, and... cucumbers.
A note to those who may be baffled; I set the B.L.O.G up in Greenwich mean
time, it seemed the only apropos option.
If anyone, however, disdains its inaccuracy to our northern environs, they
are welcome to change it!
P.E.M
have one of the remarkable lobby architecture for our records, as well as a
record of Ravenshaw, the newest addition to our clan.
I shall go through my own records at greater length soon, that we may have a
voluminous album of imagery to take us through the cold winter months until
we all may meet again for gin, conviviality, and... cucumbers.
A note to those who may be baffled; I set the B.L.O.G up in Greenwich mean
time, it seemed the only apropos option.
If anyone, however, disdains its inaccuracy to our northern environs, they
are welcome to change it!
P.E.M
Just a box and a pinhole, and behold!!!
Dearest Chaps,
Oh Hoorah for such a stupendous evening of delightful company and dashing attire and wondrous conversation! I do value my time at the cabin, delighting in solitude and the thrills of solo adventure in the wild but this my friends... this IS civility!!! I am sure we made a good enough impression on the vulgoise (less one guitar player) to entice them to give up a culture of 'work ethic' and modernity and instead pursue much loftier goals such as being the finest dressed, or most impressively witty.
Some images were miraculously captured by the strange device I was experimenting with that evening. They told me, 'just point and shoot!' and I thought it couldn't be too different from hunting and so I pointed, and I shot... and here are some of the better results.
A most impressive gathering:
Our bookmaker extraordinaire and the Loinhearted examine the most fabulous guest book:
Further examination of the resplendent tome:
Further perusal is a guarantee:
A devastating glare from Ghandja Din as he stands in the most resplendent and grand company:
The Lady Guinevere at ease with a most fabulous chap whose name escapes me!!! please someone correct this grave faux pas!!:
Bagarvance and Penchance enjoy a pipe together:
The Loinhearted and Ms. Marigold, esq. examine some intriguing artifact (I'm sure):
The most unjustly doubted Ravenshaw and the bashful subject of his woodcuts:
Forgive me fellow defenders of tweed but it is late and I must anon... more daguerreotypes to come I assure you...
Oh Hoorah for such a stupendous evening of delightful company and dashing attire and wondrous conversation! I do value my time at the cabin, delighting in solitude and the thrills of solo adventure in the wild but this my friends... this IS civility!!! I am sure we made a good enough impression on the vulgoise (less one guitar player) to entice them to give up a culture of 'work ethic' and modernity and instead pursue much loftier goals such as being the finest dressed, or most impressively witty.
Some images were miraculously captured by the strange device I was experimenting with that evening. They told me, 'just point and shoot!' and I thought it couldn't be too different from hunting and so I pointed, and I shot... and here are some of the better results.
A most impressive gathering:
Our bookmaker extraordinaire and the Loinhearted examine the most fabulous guest book:
Further examination of the resplendent tome:
Further perusal is a guarantee:
A devastating glare from Ghandja Din as he stands in the most resplendent and grand company:
The Lady Guinevere at ease with a most fabulous chap whose name escapes me!!! please someone correct this grave faux pas!!:
Bagarvance and Penchance enjoy a pipe together:
The Loinhearted and Ms. Marigold, esq. examine some intriguing artifact (I'm sure):
The most unjustly doubted Ravenshaw and the bashful subject of his woodcuts:
Forgive me fellow defenders of tweed but it is late and I must anon... more daguerreotypes to come I assure you...
Change of estate
My dearest fellows,
What a marvellous evening spent in esteemed company and sublime spirits, despite the envious bar wench whose lackluster gin pouring left my palate almost in drought. Fie! A librarian was never harsher treated in a Library Bar, indeed, and I had half a mind to beat her with my glove.
I write now to beg you to reroute official correspondence to this, my city address, as it is long since I resided at the gmail estate. You are much more likely to find me at this home, as it is a much more suitable place from which to gallivant and, on occasion, cut a caper (if only for use with salmon and warm, browned bagels).
So, lads, until we next meet for vermouth and civilized acts of civil rebellion, I look forward to your continued wit and wisdom, and wish you endless mirth peppered with a healthy dose of knavery.
I have also sent a copy of this letter to my dear friend and occasional cad, Edwick. Please extend to her all the wamth that one united to destroy the vugoisie deserves.
Pip pip,
Guinevere
30 January, 2007
to Douglas Furrier, aspiring archivist, and beyond.
Hmm. It will be interesting to see if my cyber footman can find you if I hit
reply from the B.L.O.G. message you have sent me.
In order to post daguerrotypes, Douglas, you must enter the B.L.O.G under
the guise of the armoire secretary.
Go to the Ghronicle page, click sign-in in the top right corner (under new blogger account), and input (removed to foil the Vulgoisie, please refer to your personal missives, chaps!).
This should allow you to post whatever you so wish to, providing of course,
it is befitting the civility of chapliness.
In fact, I shall send this to all chaps, since my intention was merely to
set up the archive, and then pass the secretarial duties to each member in
the form of the forwarding address, so that, hopefully, the archive might
run itself.
Quite something, this Ghronicle medium. Although I do disdain these modern
toys, they are, every so often, very useful.
P.E.M
reply from the B.L.O.G. message you have sent me.
In order to post daguerrotypes, Douglas, you must enter the B.L.O.G under
the guise of the armoire secretary.
Go to the Ghronicle page, click sign-in in the top right corner (under new blogger account), and input (removed to foil the Vulgoisie, please refer to your personal missives, chaps!).
This should allow you to post whatever you so wish to, providing of course,
it is befitting the civility of chapliness.
In fact, I shall send this to all chaps, since my intention was merely to
set up the archive, and then pass the secretarial duties to each member in
the form of the forwarding address, so that, hopefully, the archive might
run itself.
Quite something, this Ghronicle medium. Although I do disdain these modern
toys, they are, every so often, very useful.
P.E.M
29 January, 2007
Re: With much gratitude and archival musterings, on a Sunday eve.
Indeed, once I figure out how to package them properly in a cyber-efficient
way, will do. In the meanwhile you should be able to drag and drop them from
the B.L.O.G archive. (http://uppercanadachapsociety.blogspot.com).
way, will do. In the meanwhile you should be able to drag and drop them from
the B.L.O.G archive. (http://uppercanadachapsociety.blogspot.com).
PS. when responding, dear chaps, do erase prior correspondence, signatures,
etc. from the bottom of your emails, that they do not re-appear in the
Ghronical records. Too Roo!
RE: With much gratitude and archival musterings, on a Sunday eve.
Can you send all the photos in an e-mail?
--B. Vance
--B. Vance
With much gratitude and archival musterings, on a Sunday eve.
Dearest Chaps,
(sniffle)
What a wonderful evening. My inception into high society fulfilled all of my
lofty expectations and then some. I awoke this morning to find my ample
bosom covered in stray feathery whatsits, and amongst them I did lie,
nostalgically pondering the events that passed, and how life really is a
remarkable thing.
(sniffle)
What a wonderful evening. My inception into high society fulfilled all of my
lofty expectations and then some. I awoke this morning to find my ample
bosom covered in stray feathery whatsits, and amongst them I did lie,
nostalgically pondering the events that passed, and how life really is a
remarkable thing.
Overwhelmed with a momentary wistfulness (which frequently I discover to be
flatulence, but only in my most private of moments), I decided to start a
Bi-purpose Linguistic (and) Orthographic Ghronicle before the moment
passed, as it does so quickly, and I once again become consumed by the
duties of my armoire.
I am quite convinced that this Ghronicle will some day be of great value to
the archivists of our time, especially what with the insipid and most
frequent invasion of the Vulgoisie upon both our civil liberties and lavish
preoccupations.
So my dear chaps, at your leisure, I do entreaty you, add this
uber-telegraph net address to your list:
(omitted due to potential Vulgoisie perusal).
THAT'S ALL YOU NEED DO! So modern! You will then see your correspondence
promptly appear at uppercanadachapsociety.blogspot.com, suitably environed,
I feel, befitting the true pomp and grandeur of our Upper Crust.
As a test, I have posted the missives that didn't make it into our guest
book prior to Wildeflower's receiving it, as well as some nominal
photographic record of last night's revellry. If anyone feels my stylistic
choices to be in question, please feel free to change them, the statistics
for said B.L.O.G are cited pa(ren)thetically: (HA! excluded in this public posting to foil the Vulgoisie! HA!)
Enough. Now, I must to my armoire for my Sunday
engorge...ahem...engagements.
I much anticipate future events with you all, and I toast you all and your
unparalleled skills of revellry.
Yrs satiatedly,
P.E.M
--http://UpperCanadaChapSociety.blogspot.com--
--Onwards always with tweed--
28 January, 2007
Some photographic plates from our evening of Pimms and Conviviality at the Royal York Hotel
What follows are only a few of the photographic plates taken from the evening's festivities, welcoming back to our small plot of land one Ozcar Wildeflower III. Alas, the armoire secretary is used to being...ahem...in front of the camera and not behind, and so these are by no means a complete record. I would suggest that all others blessed with ownership of one of these remarkable "cameras", contribute from their own vast archives, especially Furrier, since he seemed greatly occupied with a this sort of...voyeurism throughout the evening.
The UCCS membership in full regalia at the Library bar of the Royal York Hotel.
Founding Member Ozcar Wildeflower III, convivializes with ermine accessory.
Wanton Frippery in the UCCS pinning of Vivien Pickleford, the Grenedier
Chapahontas and Polyflute
The Vicar of Dual Cuntings and Polyflute the Loinhearted enjoy a pipe outside the Jersey Giant public alehouse.
The Admiral pays homage to Queen and flag.
On the fragile nature of the Royal York event guest book
Chaps.
I awoke to realize I had made a rather egregious error in making our guest book dustcover, and the blasted thing wouldn’t open properly. I have rectified this situation, amateur bookmaker that I am, but I do urge you all, be delicate when opening and closing it. We shall, at a later juncture, make a more clean repair of it.
Sigh. I suppose this is how it goes. My travel up the ladder to high society has been fraught with excess wheat paste, a mismatched ribbon, and incalculable cardboard difficulty.
P.
I awoke to realize I had made a rather egregious error in making our guest book dustcover, and the blasted thing wouldn’t open properly. I have rectified this situation, amateur bookmaker that I am, but I do urge you all, be delicate when opening and closing it. We shall, at a later juncture, make a more clean repair of it.
Sigh. I suppose this is how it goes. My travel up the ladder to high society has been fraught with excess wheat paste, a mismatched ribbon, and incalculable cardboard difficulty.
P.
A last minute Messive from UCCS HQ
Attention all,
Last Minute messive...From UCCS HQ
All plans are firmly afoot and progressing nicely despite sudden disappearance of my jacket's lower button. Ozcar is presently dressing in preparation for visit to my folks place for warm up winter Pimm's where we shall rendezvous with the Sergent. We shall be coming in the door of the Library as close to 7:00 as possible, so be prepared. As you all know Ozcar has a a particular habit about being late, we shall try our best to herd him like a jellyfish in the tide.
Also there might be a reservation for us under the name UCCS Upper Canada Chap Society. Please try to disperse however into smallish groups not just one crowd. We shall be going for the slowly realized surprise as opposed to the sudden Hurrah as settled earlier. Might be a nice touch to have a few Chaps who don't know Orenzo to be mingling in the Royal York Lobby.
There will be a quartet playing this evening in the Library Bar also so try to sit as far away as possible, and it is of course necessary to be in our best behaviour so as not to be ejected from the premises.
Hope to see you all there, this should be right special, I dare say.
Penchance PolyFlute the Loinhearted
Last Minute messive...From UCCS HQ
All plans are firmly afoot and progressing nicely despite sudden disappearance of my jacket's lower button. Ozcar is presently dressing in preparation for visit to my folks place for warm up winter Pimm's where we shall rendezvous with the Sergent. We shall be coming in the door of the Library as close to 7:00 as possible, so be prepared. As you all know Ozcar has a a particular habit about being late, we shall try our best to herd him like a jellyfish in the tide.
Also there might be a reservation for us under the name UCCS Upper Canada Chap Society. Please try to disperse however into smallish groups not just one crowd. We shall be going for the slowly realized surprise as opposed to the sudden Hurrah as settled earlier. Might be a nice touch to have a few Chaps who don't know Orenzo to be mingling in the Royal York Lobby.
There will be a quartet playing this evening in the Library Bar also so try to sit as far away as possible, and it is of course necessary to be in our best behaviour so as not to be ejected from the premises.
Hope to see you all there, this should be right special, I dare say.
Penchance PolyFlute the Loinhearted
Regarding Furrier's new spouse and potentially improper exertions.
WELL.
I should not say that I am surprised, for I am not. But I do feel the need to make comment on this what I see to be a return to reprehensible tactics on your part, Furrier.
Chaps, when I met Sir Douglas years ago, it was in, not to be too explicit, a much different circumstance than this. I shall refrain, for the vainglory of us both, a delving into the salacious detail of circumstance, the Siberian excess, the shadow of the town Irkutsk with its questionable citizenry and their countless dubious nocturnal manoeveurs.
When I was contacted by Dougie and told of this fair gathering of gentry, I hesitated, but was assured that I was being enticed to join Gentlemen (and many of them!), creatures of discernment, of chivalry, and of blue-blooded valour. And oh, how I do Love a firm bit of blue-blooded valour!
I had myself, for some years now I confess, been making able-bodied exertions to propel myself up out of the gutter and into a gathering of civility. So how well pleased was I to hear that not only was Dougie doing the same, but that his Moroccan boyservant was still able to find me after all this time (and WHAT A MANSERVANT HE IS)
I’m sure, dear chaps, we are all aware of these ice queens, these Russian Beauties, these ubiquitous brides, with their ample bosoms and showy gimcracks. Well I for one will not remain silent in an instance like this. Should I see, tomorrow evening, that this Beauty is being treated with anything less than a gentlemen’s firm commitment, I shall quickly, loquaciously, and voluminously reveal Furrier’s coloured past to her, that she may be au courant to his at times cryptic motivations.
So, good Dougie, with all undue respect, I hope to see a devout allegiance between you and this lost child of Romanov, an allegiance that remains unwavering when the ladies-in-waiting arrive, and when the maidservants top up your vodka.
One cannot afford to be irregular in days like these, Furrier, especially when one is so prone to looking critically upon the engrossments of others (I speak here of Ravenshaw’s woodprints, whose authenticity you were so quick to pounce upon)
Yrs righteously in trepidatious times,
Pippa
I should not say that I am surprised, for I am not. But I do feel the need to make comment on this what I see to be a return to reprehensible tactics on your part, Furrier.
Chaps, when I met Sir Douglas years ago, it was in, not to be too explicit, a much different circumstance than this. I shall refrain, for the vainglory of us both, a delving into the salacious detail of circumstance, the Siberian excess, the shadow of the town Irkutsk with its questionable citizenry and their countless dubious nocturnal manoeveurs.
When I was contacted by Dougie and told of this fair gathering of gentry, I hesitated, but was assured that I was being enticed to join Gentlemen (and many of them!), creatures of discernment, of chivalry, and of blue-blooded valour. And oh, how I do Love a firm bit of blue-blooded valour!
I had myself, for some years now I confess, been making able-bodied exertions to propel myself up out of the gutter and into a gathering of civility. So how well pleased was I to hear that not only was Dougie doing the same, but that his Moroccan boyservant was still able to find me after all this time (and WHAT A MANSERVANT HE IS)
I’m sure, dear chaps, we are all aware of these ice queens, these Russian Beauties, these ubiquitous brides, with their ample bosoms and showy gimcracks. Well I for one will not remain silent in an instance like this. Should I see, tomorrow evening, that this Beauty is being treated with anything less than a gentlemen’s firm commitment, I shall quickly, loquaciously, and voluminously reveal Furrier’s coloured past to her, that she may be au courant to his at times cryptic motivations.
So, good Dougie, with all undue respect, I hope to see a devout allegiance between you and this lost child of Romanov, an allegiance that remains unwavering when the ladies-in-waiting arrive, and when the maidservants top up your vodka.
One cannot afford to be irregular in days like these, Furrier, especially when one is so prone to looking critically upon the engrossments of others (I speak here of Ravenshaw’s woodprints, whose authenticity you were so quick to pounce upon)
Yrs righteously in trepidatious times,
Pippa
From the desk of Douglas (cad about town) Furrier, BFA, on the eve preceding that of the Royal York gathering
Honorable Ladies and Gentlemen,
Tomorrow night, at the very occasion of our own Ozcar Wildeflower III's return into our fold, another spectacular appearance will be taking place. Some of you may know that this past year I was away under the employ her Majesty's Colonial service in the Far East (and Far FAR East!). You may know that I traveled to such amazing and adventurous places as Van Dieman's Land, the Republic of China, Nippon, and even New York, but what you probably didn't know is that I also was sent to the great barren lands of Mother Russia under top secret contract from the crown! In the cold wastelands of northern Siberia I battled most valiantly against impossible odds trying to keep the Mongols at bay. I was fighting daily for my life and there was nary a moments rest as I defended the most lofty ideals of Monarchy (even a Russian Monarchy) against barbarian hordes. It was a lonely time, and I, was, lonely.... When the surge of foes occasionally subsided for a spell, I tried to find the time to sojourn at the local town of Irkutsk and hope to meet other folk I could talk to of things closest to my soul. Things like the merits of Gin over Vodka, and of cucumber salad over borscht. I longed to meet someone who I would be able to share my thoughts with... it was such a lonely, cold time, and I thought my prayers would never be answered. That is, until a certain flaxen haired, statuesque, queen of the ice fields walked in the door to the restaurant where I always took my tea. She looked about the room as one who is surveying her realm, and I could tell by her noble aspect and striking, powerful aura of importance that not only must she be some lost child of the Romanov's, but I knew that we were destined to meet!!! I leaped to my feet (spilling my glass of vodka and cucumber, but that is no matter when such important events are in play) and rushed to where she stood and motioned for her to take my arm and suggested, nay, pleaded with her to join me for diner. She only stared back as if she was transfixed by the visage of some earthy gollum who she had no idea what to do with. And indeed, how could she?!? It had dawned on me that of course this fair creature of the frozen hinterlands could speak no more the Queen's good English as I could the Tzar's brutal Russian. I was crestfallen, but not about to give up! I quickly employed the assistance of my trusty barman (who had been kind enough to supply my vodka's with cucumbers since my arrival in this lonesome part of our planet) who I insisted must act as a translator between the two of us. Proper introductions were quickly made and I learned that although this sudden object of my hearts desire was not directly related to Peter, it could not be ruled out that she was not somehow linked to Ivan, which was not terrible news to me, and only made me more curious about this native snowbird who had both frozen my heart instantly with her presence and now was beginning to melt it with her emerald green eyes. I do not wish to on too much at length good chaps about the long, white nights that followed and the dark, dark days of winter wherein I came to know all about this strange and wondrous thing of icy beauty. For she turned out to be much more fire than ice; with a laugh that would crack open even the most Genghis like grip on a mans emotions. And so, dearest chaprades, it is with the greatest sense of manly pride that I will be able to present to all of you Saturday evening, who are the finest personages I know, my new and lovely Russian bride! You will know her by her hair the colour of the suns rays, and stature of loftiest nobility, as if eagles could perch on her shoulders and feel right at home. I hope you will give her such fine entertainment as I know you are all capable of... although, unfortunately, I might still add, she as of yet has very little command of English, and may blather on in Russian a good bit, especially if you get too much drink in her, which she is wont to consume voraciously. But I digress.... I look forward to seeing you all tomorrow night, and toasting the man of the evening, Ozcar Wildeflower III, back from research of native tribes in New Holland, and I hope you will be good to my fine new bride.
(also my Moroccan boy-servant will be coming and can be made available to obtain drinks for you throughout the evening if you should so ask it of him).
With great anticipation on tomorrows events,
Sgt. Douglas Furrier, BFA
ps... I am sure I do not need to mention this to you fine folk, but although we are certainly expected to engage in the most delightful and memorable comradery tomorrow's eve, it is also expected that we upkeep the decorum befitting a chap of the highest order in the fine establishment of the Royal York Library Pub. Fisticuff matches are to be taken outside, as are duels, marital spats and those displaying a drunkenness of the fall down fashion. Cheers!
Tomorrow night, at the very occasion of our own Ozcar Wildeflower III's return into our fold, another spectacular appearance will be taking place. Some of you may know that this past year I was away under the employ her Majesty's Colonial service in the Far East (and Far FAR East!). You may know that I traveled to such amazing and adventurous places as Van Dieman's Land, the Republic of China, Nippon, and even New York, but what you probably didn't know is that I also was sent to the great barren lands of Mother Russia under top secret contract from the crown! In the cold wastelands of northern Siberia I battled most valiantly against impossible odds trying to keep the Mongols at bay. I was fighting daily for my life and there was nary a moments rest as I defended the most lofty ideals of Monarchy (even a Russian Monarchy) against barbarian hordes. It was a lonely time, and I, was, lonely.... When the surge of foes occasionally subsided for a spell, I tried to find the time to sojourn at the local town of Irkutsk and hope to meet other folk I could talk to of things closest to my soul. Things like the merits of Gin over Vodka, and of cucumber salad over borscht. I longed to meet someone who I would be able to share my thoughts with... it was such a lonely, cold time, and I thought my prayers would never be answered. That is, until a certain flaxen haired, statuesque, queen of the ice fields walked in the door to the restaurant where I always took my tea. She looked about the room as one who is surveying her realm, and I could tell by her noble aspect and striking, powerful aura of importance that not only must she be some lost child of the Romanov's, but I knew that we were destined to meet!!! I leaped to my feet (spilling my glass of vodka and cucumber, but that is no matter when such important events are in play) and rushed to where she stood and motioned for her to take my arm and suggested, nay, pleaded with her to join me for diner. She only stared back as if she was transfixed by the visage of some earthy gollum who she had no idea what to do with. And indeed, how could she?!? It had dawned on me that of course this fair creature of the frozen hinterlands could speak no more the Queen's good English as I could the Tzar's brutal Russian. I was crestfallen, but not about to give up! I quickly employed the assistance of my trusty barman (who had been kind enough to supply my vodka's with cucumbers since my arrival in this lonesome part of our planet) who I insisted must act as a translator between the two of us. Proper introductions were quickly made and I learned that although this sudden object of my hearts desire was not directly related to Peter, it could not be ruled out that she was not somehow linked to Ivan, which was not terrible news to me, and only made me more curious about this native snowbird who had both frozen my heart instantly with her presence and now was beginning to melt it with her emerald green eyes. I do not wish to on too much at length good chaps about the long, white nights that followed and the dark, dark days of winter wherein I came to know all about this strange and wondrous thing of icy beauty. For she turned out to be much more fire than ice; with a laugh that would crack open even the most Genghis like grip on a mans emotions. And so, dearest chaprades, it is with the greatest sense of manly pride that I will be able to present to all of you Saturday evening, who are the finest personages I know, my new and lovely Russian bride! You will know her by her hair the colour of the suns rays, and stature of loftiest nobility, as if eagles could perch on her shoulders and feel right at home. I hope you will give her such fine entertainment as I know you are all capable of... although, unfortunately, I might still add, she as of yet has very little command of English, and may blather on in Russian a good bit, especially if you get too much drink in her, which she is wont to consume voraciously. But I digress.... I look forward to seeing you all tomorrow night, and toasting the man of the evening, Ozcar Wildeflower III, back from research of native tribes in New Holland, and I hope you will be good to my fine new bride.
(also my Moroccan boy-servant will be coming and can be made available to obtain drinks for you throughout the evening if you should so ask it of him).
With great anticipation on tomorrows events,
Sgt. Douglas Furrier, BFA
ps... I am sure I do not need to mention this to you fine folk, but although we are certainly expected to engage in the most delightful and memorable comradery tomorrow's eve, it is also expected that we upkeep the decorum befitting a chap of the highest order in the fine establishment of the Royal York Library Pub. Fisticuff matches are to be taken outside, as are duels, marital spats and those displaying a drunkenness of the fall down fashion. Cheers!
On acertaining who in fact would complete said guest book for said Royal York Gathering
Truth be know, the twitchy alter boy that was to do
the crafting in my stead has recently succumbed to a
tremendous fever that has left us both in tub flinging
ice at each other (to keep spirits up, you know).
So yes please, pour the pulp of your creativity into
the void we've gleefully, no dare I mean painfully,
created concerning 'les art papier'.
With gratitude I remain,
yours fearing sobriety,
Ruddy
the crafting in my stead has recently succumbed to a
tremendous fever that has left us both in tub flinging
ice at each other (to keep spirits up, you know).
So yes please, pour the pulp of your creativity into
the void we've gleefully, no dare I mean painfully,
created concerning 'les art papier'.
With gratitude I remain,
yours fearing sobriety,
Ruddy
A Polite Reminder regarding our Forthcoming gathering at the Royal York
Dispatch from the Frontier:
Citizens of the New World, attendees of upcoming chap reunion, I have a polite reminder for each of you.
The much anticipated momentous event that is the return of Ozcar Wildeflower the Third is to be a chapstravaganza of the highest order. All those who are honoured enough to be invited to attend must have already realized the spectacular opportunity this gathering presents for those dandies, fops, cads, lords and ladies, urchins, knights, and so forth to 'strut their stuff' and bring to the entire Society's attention how utterly presentable they are. I am speaking, gentlechaps, of your dress for the evening. How you adorn yourselves this Saturday soir will be duly noted and marked down forever in the annals of the UCCS history books... do not let this opportunity pass by to bring our your finest velvets, tweeds, chantilly and lace garments and impress all of the Royal York patrons with how utterly magnificently you can wear whatever style it is you have the privilege of sporting. In other words... dress accordingly. I have heard rumor that there may be a fellow with one of those new fangled motion-picture cameras there... You are chaps... make us proud!!! Make Ozcar proud!!! Long live the Tweed Revolution!!!
And.... While keeping a careful eye on the goings-on of the wild Upper Canadian frontier, I, Sgt. Douglas Furrier, BFA, have been made aware by the athorities of the existence of a certain wonderous child of nature that has graced our rugged country and brought twirling joy to the English stationed here. I have heard the wonderful news that this creature, Chapahontas, will be present at the upcoming Chaptivites at the Royal York Hotel this Saturday. I for one will be honoured to share a drink with her!
I have the following information from the Captain at Fort York concerning Chapahontas. I repeat here for you all:
"Chapahontas is an Indian princess, the daughter of Powhatan, the powerful chief of the Algonquian Indians in the Tidewater region of Virginia. She was born to one of Powhatan's many wives. They named her Matoaka, though she is better known as Chapahontas, which means "Little Wanton," playful, frolicsome little girl."
What an oportunity to Frolic with Chapahontas!! I cannot wait!
Yr's in earnest faith,
Douglas Furrier
Citizens of the New World, attendees of upcoming chap reunion, I have a polite reminder for each of you.
The much anticipated momentous event that is the return of Ozcar Wildeflower the Third is to be a chapstravaganza of the highest order. All those who are honoured enough to be invited to attend must have already realized the spectacular opportunity this gathering presents for those dandies, fops, cads, lords and ladies, urchins, knights, and so forth to 'strut their stuff' and bring to the entire Society's attention how utterly presentable they are. I am speaking, gentlechaps, of your dress for the evening. How you adorn yourselves this Saturday soir will be duly noted and marked down forever in the annals of the UCCS history books... do not let this opportunity pass by to bring our your finest velvets, tweeds, chantilly and lace garments and impress all of the Royal York patrons with how utterly magnificently you can wear whatever style it is you have the privilege of sporting. In other words... dress accordingly. I have heard rumor that there may be a fellow with one of those new fangled motion-picture cameras there... You are chaps... make us proud!!! Make Ozcar proud!!! Long live the Tweed Revolution!!!
And.... While keeping a careful eye on the goings-on of the wild Upper Canadian frontier, I, Sgt. Douglas Furrier, BFA, have been made aware by the athorities of the existence of a certain wonderous child of nature that has graced our rugged country and brought twirling joy to the English stationed here. I have heard the wonderful news that this creature, Chapahontas, will be present at the upcoming Chaptivites at the Royal York Hotel this Saturday. I for one will be honoured to share a drink with her!
I have the following information from the Captain at Fort York concerning Chapahontas. I repeat here for you all:
"Chapahontas is an Indian princess, the daughter of Powhatan, the powerful chief of the Algonquian Indians in the Tidewater region of Virginia. She was born to one of Powhatan's many wives. They named her Matoaka, though she is better known as Chapahontas, which means "Little Wanton," playful, frolicsome little girl."
What an oportunity to Frolic with Chapahontas!! I cannot wait!
Yr's in earnest faith,
Douglas Furrier
A note from the UCCS armoire secretary/correspondence delegant.
(Being a slightly modified version of an uber telegraph sent to the founding chaps some time ago, suggesting the inception of some sort of modern archive for the UCCS, its events, and the gadabouts of its constituent flaneurs)
Good sirs,PERISH the notion that I would publish personal and intimate details of heretofore fellow chaps and yet strangers on something as vulgar as a blog, but I was concerned with retaining some sort of record of the witty repartee of chaps at large. For immortality's sakes, of course.
I do concure with Sir Furrier about the unfortunate nature of the word blog. I wrote to the OED some time ago to complain, in fact, and got the following as explanation:
Dear Ms. Marigold,
Thank you for your concerns about the naming of the Bi-purpose Linguistic (and) Orthographic Ghronicle. I'm afraid this acronym was arrived upon for expediency's sake, and since evolution seems to be moving in the directions of efficiency, we must ourselves recognize the cruciality that language follows suit.
Horrified at what seemed an egregious and most cataclysmic typo, I followed up with a letter querying the misspelling of what I could only assume was meant to be "chronicle", only to be once again humbled by those grand (thumpa thumpa) masters of our english language.
Dear Ms. Marigold.
The use of the G is purposeful, we assure you. It intimates that something more than a C is at hand, as the chronicle in a Bi-purpose Linguistic (and) Orthogrphic Ghronicle is rarely that of one person, but on occasion that of the peripheral characters in said person's life and environs as well.
Which brings me back to the UCCS, and my firm assurance that I will only ever use the chosen titles of fellow members when commenting on UCCS activities. I understand the nature of privacy most intimately, having a great many dire secrets myself, which I wouldn't wish my real name to be attached to in the presence of such civilized sorts.
Many thanks and Pip Pip.
Pippa.
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