As much as I do not envy our live-in psychologist, at least I still visit him on occasion to make sure he has SOMETHING to do. Psychologists always make for interesting enough conversations partners. And when Percy is off in the office, the children are at school or with their tutors and the servants and workmen have been properly directed to their tasks, sometimes I still have some time left.
Not so for our physician, consigned as she is to the medical wing in the easternmost corner of the mansion. The Clanceys are famously hale and hearty from years of excellent breeding and plenty of money to start every day, so we never fall ill. We just needed that insurance, and all the other rich families have them.
Still, I remain fascinated in this trend of people having hyperbaric chambers for hire in Melbourne, and I suppose beyond. I keep saying to Percy that we need to get some oxygen therapy chambers installed, just for the experience and perhaps for the continued health of the live-in staff. Elliaphelia from two mansions over just had them installed after her husband got a cold- imagine, something so common!- and he was having a bit of difficulty both breathing and smoking at the same time. Percy has never been interested in cigars like many of those in his various Gentlemen’s Clubs, although I’m sure he could down them with no real ill effects if he so desired.
Still, oxygen therapy just sounds so exciting, and quite good for you. Maybe after I’ve been on the cardio machines I can step inside and catch my breath, or…I don’t know. Just the thought of Melbourne’s best portable hyperbaric chambers being part of our medical repertoire just appeals to me, on a completionist level. We have all the other technology, such as the MRI machine, incubation chamber, x-ray machine and the physician to operate them. Oxygen therapy might just complete the set.
-Cecelia
What a tale I’ll have to tell my school chums! ‘My Very First Environmentalist Protest-Slash-Hunger Strike’. Such fun! I only did so for about an hour, but it was thrilling nonetheless.
I really do feel sorry for our in-house psychiatrist. The Clancey family are famously sound in both body AND mind, so he doesn’t really get to do very much. Sometimes I like to think I’ll go along and fake some kind of steady, psychotic breakdown, just so he’s not twiddling his thumbs. Still, he gets the bi-annual checkup for each of us, so that’s a grand total of two hours of work per year. Heaven knows how he manages to entertain himself.
I am continually at war with myself. On the one hand, I revel in the thrills of business and professionalism. On the other, I simply wish to watch television all day, stay in bed for extremely long periods of time and go out to visit friends, where we may trade ‘Sidockebeast’ cards. That’s short for ‘Side Pocket Beasts’, a Japanese trend that I find intriguing.
Oh dear, one of the attendants has quit in an overly dramatic fashion again. Poor fellow said something about everything being too much, jumped off the top banister, swung off the chandelier and very much tried to- and I can only be partially sure- jump through the circular piece of stained glass that adorns the place over our front entrance. Instead, the chandelier snapped and took him down with it.
Father has gone to a conference, presumably one where he teaches people less intelligent than he how to conduct proper business. I’m not too surprised, obviously. There’s much to learn from someone like Father, to the point where it’s a wonder anyone else has any business sense at all. I hope to one day be just like him.
I keep saying that we need a revamp of the décor in the entrance hall. It’s the first thing people see when they enter the house, and yet I until now I haven’t been able to bring myself to make any significant changes. I suppose I have a great deal of respect for all the generations of Clanceys who’ve come before, thus hindering me from updating the era. But then…it’s no longer 1770. There comes a time when you have to make a change.
Bureaucrats have not been keeping their cool over summer, with government offices reporting an average of three forms needing to be filled in before cooling may be switched on.
There are workmen at the house today. Mummy said I shouldn’t talk to them, but I’m sitting here at the window watching and I can’t fathom why. They see like really people, just like us. Mummy also said they speak a strange commoner language, but apart from stronger accents, a heavier use of slang and some ghastly profanity, that is also not true. Perhaps as you grow to be an adult, you forget how to speak to people who are different to you? That’s the impression I am getting.