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!