The wrong kind of kettle

Dear Readers, what a day I had yesterday. And once again I have arrived home from a day out, nearly a day late.

It all started when I went down to London yesterday. Hearing about the Boat Race, I was curious to find out whether my old University had made the finals this year. However on the train I met a young man called Tarquin, who told me that it was Oxford and Cambridge again this year. Tarquin told me that he was actually going into London to "smash the system", but that since he read Law at Corpus, he was secretly rooting for Cambridge. At St Pancras he had to leave me to put on his balaclava. He was clearly looking forward to his day out in London, as he told me he was hoping to pop into Fortnum's later.

I headed off to Westminster, on the basis that that's where the river is, but I found my way blocked by some people worried about "kettling". I didn't understand quite why everyone was so concerned - I thought it was rather kind of the Police to make everyone cups of tea. It's like they say, it really is Dear Old London Town. But in the event, I found queueing up for the tea was taking too long, so I wandered off down a side road, to where I found a group of smartly-dressed people, who told me they were going to celebrate Our Lady of Walsingham. Naturally, I assumed she was a lady of some power and authority like Archdruid Eileen, so I followed them into their rather nice building, only to discover that I had accidentally been Taken Up and joined the Ordinariate. I started to worry - Drayton has repeatedly warned me about the dangers of this happening, but I hadn't realised it was so likely on a fine day in London that one would be raptured.
The good news is, I managed yet again to slink out through a side door and, after much wandering and dodging crowds, I found myself in the vicinity of Piccadilly.

I  popped my head into Fortnum and Mason's and asked if they had seen my friend Tarquin, and whether he had succeeded in finding his friend Old Bill. After all, it's always nice to meet up with old friends in London, even when, as it appears, Tarquin was planning on having an argument with this William. Next thing I knew, I was being taken away and was only this morning released from my overnight stay in police custody. And all because I was thinking of decorating my room in the Great House and asked an assistant where I could lay my hands on a couple of pots of paint.

So I ended up paying extra for my ticket, because I only had a day Travelcard. And I'm hiding away now. Archdruid Eileen's really not very pleased with me. She says I'm not to go smashing the state, because if I do who's she going to hide her income from? And she doesn't want too much attention paid to the occupants of the Great House at Census time - especially when she's claimed we're all dependent members of her family. And I still don't know what happened to Tartquin.