Tales From The Pantry: A Butler's Diary

From the pantry of an historic country house comes the ongoing diary of its butler, Mr Dean Fielding. I shall be giving you a glimpse of the family I serve and of the lives both 'Below Stairs' and 'Above'. I hope you follow my jottings daily.

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Location: United Kingdom

Have been butler here for over 15 years. Having previously, and unusually for these days, worked my way up from footman to under-butler to my current post. You can now follow me on Twitter via: http://www.twitter.com/butlerfielding

Tuesday, October 06, 2009

Fit as a Fiddle!

How swiftly time moves on. My knee, of which you heard so much in my previous two entries, is now in splendid shape. The way I currently feel, if I had been born with a natural sense of balance, I could (perhaps this afternoon) fly through the air with the greatest of ease, like those daring young men on the flying trapeze. Sadly any dreams I had of being a trapeze artist died long ago. I struggle to get to the top step of the ladders or scaffolding during spring cleaning here at Carstone these days; and that involves very little flying. In short, however, I am in rude health, and am raring to go.

The Carstone family are in residence this weekend which makes for a bustling week for the staff. Indeed, if I could pluck one word from the dictionary to describe our activities for the next month, 'bustling' would definitely fit the bill. The month is set to end with a large Halloween Ball that Mr Miles Carstone has insisted on. Halloween is an event that, by and large, passes Sir Geoffrey and Lady Carstone by. It would, for example, take an outstanding amount of effort for a trick-or-treater to get to the front door of Carstone House. Our intrepid hero would have to walk a fair way simply to reach the outskirts of Carstone Park. Then he would have to get past the ever-vigilant Mr Llywelyn, the Lodge Keeper. With his love of all things supernatural I daresay he would be even more vigilant on Halloween. The chances of a trick-or-treater getting past Llywelyn on Halloween are slim. He would probably regale them for hours with all the ghost stories he has compiled about the ancient estate, until, bleary-eyed and dazed, and forgetting their original purpose for venturing out that evening, they would stagger back home empty handed.

But all that is for later in the month. I am currently having my portrait painted by an artist we have staying here, but more of than anon.