Guests Doing The Limbo

More slightly distressed guests finally arrived the other night. Yes, yes, yes, they also warned me of the blue-haired man, who is apparently of questionable parentage as well as having dubious style sense.

But these people are lovely; the nicest pair yet. They're a father and daughter. She has the most striking eyes I've ever seen, and he seems to be an expert at games of skill and accuracy (not so on chancy games, though).

He is also something of a connoseur gourmand when it comes to spicy foods and fine brews and the conversations in the residents' saloon bar have been highly edifying.

But it all comes back to blood-thirsty tales of their erstwhile boon companions and the outrages committed by the mysterious loud person that was also traveling with them. For some reason, they all desperately hope this "git" (pardon) actually does arrive here very soon rather than ruin everything for the remainder that are still on the trip.

Fortunately, that Silent Lamb moving-pictures prop mask arrived, and one of the McFinsters dragged in a slightly used strait-jacket and left it as an apology-offering (which is the opposite of a thank-offering, as you might suspect). He had ever such a sheepish grin, so I suspect there's more to the story of that jacket than was made quite clear. He is such a wooly-pated simpleton, there's no getting a straight story out of him (or a strait one, for that matter).

Of course! that's what we shall have for Sunday dinner! Mutton!

I'd best make sure that it's acceptable to the one New Yorker. He and his friend have cut quite a dash singing at impromptu Karaoke nights - he puts that horrid old pub crooner we had in last month to shame. They also organized a limbo contest with the Tortolan pan orchestra, who are yet to finalize the date of the Big Booze-Up (which may be called on account of reign, if Queen Sybil decides on an earlier wedding date).