A weekend at the sanitarium

I have received some inquiries regarding my recent neglect of this missive, and my grounds for doing so are quite plain: I am a poet and an artist! Mine is the soul of a wandering nomad, and it can be restricted to a schedule no more than the Bedouin can be restricted to a little patch of sand!

It is for this reason that I have neglected my missive; this and the fact that I was away throughout the weekend, visiting my Aunt Lavinia at the sanitarium. This sojourn was, naturally, not one of my own choosing, and it would have been an altogether rotten affair were it not for the companionship of my dear chum and kindred spirit, Crispin Devonshire. Father initally resisted the idea of Crispin's presence -- after the events of the physiognomy lecture, he would have it that I abandon Crispin's fellowship entirely. But the combination of the terrible fuss that I made and Aunt Lavinia's renowned distaste for tardiness prompted him to relinquish. The three of us set out for the sanitarium together early Saturday morning, with Crispin and I giggling and father grumbling all the way.

The sanitarium is half a day's travel away, and although it is surrounded by rather pleasant countryside, the age and generally decrepit state of its inhabitants give the place the air of a charnel house. Aunt Lavinia first took up residence at the institution after she came down with a case of consumption; she has since recovered, but the condition seemed to have left her with the mark of a terrible scowl, which I notice every time that father and I visit. Father's face, however, is usually plastered with a similar expression when in her company. I believe that he actually detests the woman, and only attempts to curry her favour because so many of the family's land holdings are in her name.

With father devoted to pandering to the old bag, Crispin and I set about entertaining ourselves -- a difficult endeavour in a sanitarium that has been stripped of all amusements and is entirely populated by invalids. We eventually settled on a game of Hide-and-Seek, which proved to be quite rousing! The grounds of the sanitarium are rather expansive, so much so that our game persisted until dusk, and I had begun to fear that I would never see Crispin again. After a thorough search of the kitchen I had resigned myself to the conclusion that my beloved chum had somehow met a terrible demise; that he had fallen into a salt bath and drowned, or locked himself into a traveler's trunk and suffocated. These dark thoughts soon had me reduced to tears, when who should burst out of a crate of bran but dear Crispin! I was overwhelmed with such relief that I immediately took him into a close embrace, caring little that in doing so I was transferring his bran coating onto my new puffed-shoulder shirt.

Our celebratory reunion was soon interrupted by the sanitarium director, who took us both by an ear and escorted us back to father. It seems that the bran which Crispin had cloaked himself in was of considerable value to the director, who employs it to administer bran baths to opium addicts. Enraged that Crispin had contaminated a year's supply, the director immediately ordered the three of us off the sanitarium grounds.

Father has not exchanged a single word with me since the incident, and even Ms. Myrtleberry is in a state at the condition of my clothes. I, however, remain quite pleased with the weekend's proceedings, for I believe that the note on which it ended shall save me from any future visits to the sanitarium. For this, I have only Crispin to thank -- dear, dear Crispin!

 

Comments

[erik]

Bravo!

p.s. That Crispin character is utterly outrageous sometimes, though I do love him so!

[Madame M]

I do love a good week-end getaway! I myself travelled to distant lands, but by aerial stagecoach --which I highly recommend.

Most refreshed,

Madame M

http://madamemeow.typepad.com

[Lord Earnest Worthing]

My word! The Crispin is quite the dandy fellow! I must say, and I do hope that I am being candid, that he is the very face of rackish abandom himself. His propensity for crowding the rows in theater is quite established, and yet somethimes I muse...

[Laive]

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[Laive]

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