Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," adrift at sea! Oh, woe is me!
I had no idea there was such dissention in the servants' wing until yesterday morning. My daughter The Spare threw a fit because the refrigerated perfumes kept next to her personal hot tub were not in alphabetical order. The Spare fired the offending personal assistant, and the entire staff packed up and left.
All except my husband's gentleman's gentleman, Meadowes. He's been with us since 1981 and does not mingle with The Spare.
I'll admit I did have a slight difference of opinion on the matter of white sauce with my chef, Alphonse, last week. But for him to collect his belongings in his satchel and leave me with all this entertaining to do -- it's unspeakable. Just unspeakable. I have had to engage the sous chef from Le Bec Fin, Philadelphia's most prominent restaurant, to come and prepare meals for us. Thank goodness he was on Christmas vacation! It also helps that we have a permanent table at Le Bec Fin at which we dine several times a week.
Not one of these ungrateful servants will get a positive reference from me, to be sure.
Does anyone know how to set a table? Horrors! The silver has a day's worth of tarnish on it already!
You can't get good help these days.