(no subject)
I was always of the belief that my summer holidays should be spent on a crystal clear beach; under a palm tree, being served mixed drinks in coconuts by a topless, shapely local manservant named Miguel. Either that or I should be strolling through the streets of Paris, my parent's bank account a few hundred galleons smaller and a beautiful catch from last night's lovely dinner taking me by the hand showing me some very interesting sights.
It should not be spent taking part in one my mother's idiotic ideas of courtship. Or whatever she's trying to call this.
Apparently I'm supposed to spend my summer getting to know a ridiculous bunch of suitors my mother and father "diligently chose to further Parkinson House." I'm supposed to spend a week or so at the residence of each young gentleman and at the end of my stay write to my mother detailing what I thought of the young man, his estate and parents. She will then send a portkey to the next home. Personally, I think my mother's gone mad. Either that or she's gotten far too bored and my father should really look into doing something about it. A Manservant named Miguel might be helpful.
They pulled me out of school early to bring me back here and meet them, and their parents. The most I can say about the encounter so far is: my face hurts from smiling modestly and none of them look too horrible. Some of them were even dressed very nicely. Perhaps there is hope for my summer. I'm not counting on it.
Hopefully I'll be able to invite some of you for a bit of a stay at one of the homes. They're all supposed to be very extravagant and I'm sure I'll tire of the hosts rather quickly.
I really shouldn't waste anymore time though. Must pack for my first visit to Sir Madon Beckinshire of Wales. Gag me please Wouldn't want to be late.
It should not be spent taking part in one my mother's idiotic ideas of courtship. Or whatever she's trying to call this.
Apparently I'm supposed to spend my summer getting to know a ridiculous bunch of suitors my mother and father "diligently chose to further Parkinson House." I'm supposed to spend a week or so at the residence of each young gentleman and at the end of my stay write to my mother detailing what I thought of the young man, his estate and parents. She will then send a portkey to the next home. Personally, I think my mother's gone mad. Either that or she's gotten far too bored and my father should really look into doing something about it. A Manservant named Miguel might be helpful.
They pulled me out of school early to bring me back here and meet them, and their parents. The most I can say about the encounter so far is: my face hurts from smiling modestly and none of them look too horrible. Some of them were even dressed very nicely. Perhaps there is hope for my summer. I'm not counting on it.
Hopefully I'll be able to invite some of you for a bit of a stay at one of the homes. They're all supposed to be very extravagant and I'm sure I'll tire of the hosts rather quickly.
I really shouldn't waste anymore time though. Must pack for my first visit to Sir Madon Beckinshire of Wales. Gag me please Wouldn't want to be late.