What's Your Story, Basil?

Man About Mayfair
Basil Seal

My Dear Christine,

Oh, you want the story do you? I know nothing of you except that you are French (French-American?, married to an American?), attended Oxford (college unknown), Notre Dame, read for the Bar, (and now practicing law? Trial Lawyer?), married, two children (I think), pack heat, and don't usually show enough skin to be interesting at dinner parties, Roman Catholic, friends with Mrs. P, live in Indiana (why Indiana? I have no idea other than Notre Dame is there)....Other than that....You see, you are a closed book to me...

But, alright, I will tell you my story...My father was from the West Country, Cheltenham, Gloucestershire...He was a psychiatrist, who, after "The Big One" went to the US, following a younger brother (who was a mining engineer, his older brother was killed in WWII) and ended up in St. Louis, MO. There he met an American girl, who was at a Catholic girl's school in St. Louis, (why he was nosing about a girl's school has not yet been passed on to us, but I can imagine, the dog) and was the only child of a farmer in Southern Illinois who had a very large farming operation, which also included some oil fields. He married said American girl and moved to a small town in Southern Illinois to practice there with the local doctor and play the squire at the farm, which his wife had inherited. He quickly became bored out of his mind with small town psychiatry and farming, so through political connections (friends with the Gov. and all that), he became the head of the Illinois Department of Rehabilitation Services, where he stayed until his retirement. Growing up, I spent my summers back in England, and later my brother and I were sent first to The Oratory School, and then my brother went to St. Benet's Hall, and I, needing to be watched more closely, went to the University of Dallas, concentrating on tennis and History and Literature, when I could spare the time. Now my plan was to teach, since I actually couldn't "do" anything, but before I began, I did two tours of dooty in the United States Marine Corps. Someone had told me that in joining the Corps, one could travel the world, meet lots of interesting people, and then kill them, sparing the good-looking women, of course. So I joined up as not to miss all the fun.

Now, after the Corps I was at home visiting on my way to my first teaching assignment. In the neighborhood and down the road there lives another family of farmers, the Knaebles. This is a German-American family whose land holdings pretty much encompass the whole state. Well, at this time they had some of their distant relatives from Bavaria over for a visit to the good ole US of A. And, you guessed it, one of these said relatives was the Countess. Now, my mother, being the busy body that she is, had put together some sort of shin-dig for the visiting minor nobility, to which I was ordered to go. I still remember watching the Countess from across the room, following my mother's pointing finger (Mom is nothing, if not subtle) and if you can envision Jackie-O standing in the middle of the VFW Hall in Podunktown, USA, you would have some idea of the expression on her face at this time. She, of course, was politeness itself, her manners are a wonder to behold, but I did notice that she was holding a scented hankie to her nose when she thought no one was looking. Now, don't get me wrong, most of the people in our neighborhood were wealthy, at least in land, and most were well educated, by American standards, but still farmers all the same. Now, most of the professional men among them, like my father, had their suits and shirts made for them in St. Louis, and were well dressed, but the "over-all" and 'seed-hat' were still staples of many a male wardrobe. As an aside, the local dentist had actually moved to our town from Germany and had actually served in the Wehrmacht during WWII. We were sure he was a Nazi war criminal in hiding, and after seeing Marathon Man, we were positive. Now, the Countess had been traveling around the country for some weeks, and all-in-all was not impressed with the Amerikaners. At this time I still had hair, and like most young men was over-confident concerning my attraction to the opposite sex. However, ignorance is bliss sometimes, and you succeed in spite of yourself. The Countess had a friend from Germany traveling with her and my mother introduced me to them. Of course, the Countess hated me on first sight, I was a conceited American and half English, which was probably the greater blemish in her book. Of course, at the time, this didn't bother me in the least, since her friend was h-o-t, not cold. So, for the rest of the evening I payed close attention to the traveling companion and never spoke a word to the Countess. She was being mobbed by the local farm boys, and would be rescued every so often by my brother, and by the end of the evening, if looks could kill, I would have been a dead man. The next day they all came over for tea, and again I zeroed in on the companion and gave the Countess the shoulder which is cold. We all went out to catch a movie at the local Cine-plex, which plexed out at two whole screens and had shown its first "talkie" the week before. I sat next to the traveling companion and stuck the Countess next to a cousin who went by the name "Duck-Seed" (I have no idea why) who spilled his dip cup on the Chanel jacket she was wearing. Needless to say, she was in high dudgeon by now, and when her huff arrived she left in it and went back to Germany. I never thought I would see her again. And what was worse, she took the traveling companion with her. But wait.

About six months later, my mother forwarded a letter from Germany to me at the school where I was teaching. I noticed that it was from the Countess, so I took my time about opening it, assuming it would explode or spray out poison gas or something. I finally read the letter, and to my surprise it was very nice and she was inviting me and my brother to visit her and her family in Germany over the upcoming Christmas holiday. Of course, I smelled a trap, assuming that once she had me in Germany I would find myself snatched up by Bruno and Hans and tossed into a railroad car bound for Poland. I talked the thing over with my brother and we decided to go, after we had alerted the Red Cross as to our whereabouts. Upon our arrival the first thing I noticed (besides the Countess' décolletage, which had been hidden during our prior meetings) was that the traveling companion was very conspicuous by her absence. I thought at this time that I might be in trouble, but not the trouble I was expecting. Sure enough, the Countess turned on the charm (and if you think you could handle this, ask Mrs. P, you couldn't, in one week-end she had Mr. P, Fiendish and Father M. all eating out of her hand, it took her approximately 7 minutes to conquer all three.) and made a full frontal assault on the Basil. And where charm does not work, fear does the job just fine...I'm talking about real terror, the never-having-to-raise-her-voice to strike terror in the hearts of man, just a sideways look says it all. And believe me, you jump. It was an absolute cake walk, I resisted about as well as the French Army. I was amateur night...I had no defenses what-so-ever and when she ordered me to propose, I did. And one year later we were married in Munich, and as you know, the Countess went on the honeymoon with her family and sent me back to the States. She did eventually come over and live with me, although it did take her awhile to adjust to life as a commoner. I remember one day coming home from work and finding her with two huge burns, one on each collar bone. I asked her what happened, and she said she was trying to iron her blouse, while still wearing it. Even then, I knew to say nothing...And I have been saying nothing but "yes ma'am" ever since. I'm sure she married me out of pity, and the fact that I dared to ignore her, (as you can see, I'm still paying for that folly) but, you know, whatever works...

Well, there you have it my dear Christine...I hope that now, after I have showed you mine, that you will return the favor and not run shrieking into the house. It is always so annoying when they do that.

I am, of course, waiting with the proverbial baited breath.

Yours Truly,
Basil Seal

Editor's note: Basil's proverbial baited breath must wait for a time. Christine and her family have safely arrived in France where they are in the process of making living arrangements among the centuries-old dwellings for families associated with the University of Dijon. Christine has written Patum Peperium that she will gladly show Basil's hers as soon as she reasonably can. And hopefully, Basil will return the favor by not running shrieking into the house. The Countess says it's so annoying when he does that.

Comments

[Mrs. Peperium]

"and don't usually show enough skin to be interesting at dinner parties,"

Written like a founding member of the RCBfA...

[Crackie]

If the Countess ever reads this: "I had no defenses what-so-ever and when she ordered me to propose, I did", I am afraid we are going to be short one Show Me State correspondent here at dear old PatumP.

[Mrs. Peperium]

But then who will clean the silver? Good help is hard to find.

[rp]

That was outstanding. I wish I could write that well.

"[S]pilled his dip cup. . ." Brilliant. Really funny.

[Basil Seal]

As you have all guessed by now, the Countess does not read PP...Therefore, I live...

[Blog Visitor]

Sir Basil hasn't mentioned if he & the Countess have any children.

[Blog Visitor]

Sir Basil hasn't mentioned if he & the Countess have any children.

[Dan Patterson]

"...shrieking into the house."

I have had my share of that, I'll say, and though it is amusing enough at first, it does wear a tad thin don't you think? Nice to see that there are those of the fairer sex made of sterner stuff.

Lovely story and my best to you and yours.

Dan Patterson
Arrogant Infidel

[Mrs. Peperium]

Hey Arrogant One, nice to see you're still among us. Sterner women who can laugh...that's what makes the world go around.

rp, how on earth did you know what a dip cup was? You and I are from almost the same town and the only guy I ever knew who used chewing tobacco there was my father's neighbor in Greenwich. And he only used it because he was a NY Yankee.

I had to google up dip cup. So not fair.

A blog visitor, we are working towards revealing all with Sir Basil so stay tuned...

[Fr. M.]

The Oratorians and the Cistercians? Not a bad combination at all.