Not only has it been a while since I've been able to get through, but for my new little ordinator has been ill, and off to see a specialist for several weeks. She thought she had a virus, however it was only an anxiety disease apparently. She would freeze after any attempts to go farther when the first password came up, and all attempts to coax, help via giving her little battery a long rest, etc. failed so she went to an Ordinator Doctor who was a specialist. She is back now, however and feeling fine, now twittering over how anxiety ridden she was!
Also, unfortunately, I have been away for a while due to a death in our family. My mother 83 years young passed away April 15th. Had she known how to operate an ordinator, which she always shied away from but encouraged my own interest in them, and even seen The Cocktail Bar, I'm sure she would have made a wonderful Aristasian Lady, she was very elegant, and had many of the qualities that I see as I become aquainted with Aristasia. A toast to her!
Must go for now, take care all, and have a good week.
TERRIE Dateline: Thursday, May 8th, 1952
Margy, darling, thank you for your delightfully original tea concoction...soft and silky on the tongue with an passionately fragrant bouquet and a heady taste so reminiscent of, well, I don't know what! No wonder blondes enjoy it so!
Did you listen to that Slave-Girl? My goodness, she makes being a slave seem a most attractive and exciting proposition. I never thought that I would be affected like this.
And shy (?) Espirenza's talk of high heels reminds me that I just love high-heeled shoes. How about you? I think that heels contribute so much to what it means to be feminine. See mine? Pretty, lavender sling back sandals? What do you think?
Anxiously awaiting your answer...
Now about my little problem.For years I've shunned garter stockings.Wearing them seems to be an important step towards racination.I have rather thin thighs, so when I sit the garter detaches on the front of my legs.I like the control of a girdle,no problem there,[I can use it,giggle]but I don't feel very ladylike when I have to resecure the garter everytime I stand up.These are metal and rubber stays.I've tried elastic stay up stockings ,but how a girl gets used to that?I don't like the pressure.I hate pantyhose,but have worn them to my dress up occasions all my life.I'd like to change that.Anyone taken the time to overcome such a little problem?I'd appreciate any tips.I hope our Eastern majesty stays a while to see how we take care of one another.May I send our royal guests a splash of Drambuie to sweeten their temperance?
My Mistress, I am as a lion, swift, powerful and untamed, though to you I seem but a tender kitten, for the heart of the lioness is softened by the command of her Mistress.
Kneeling in front of you, I kiss your hands, for I am always your,
'Allo my dears, I'm just dropping in on the way to the Postmistress'. It is the twelfth birthday of a sweet niece of mine and I have found the nicest book to send her! And what's more I found it in the Pit, and the whole series is even in print there. It is so rare to find anything there that is really morally and religiously sound and inspiring for young pettes.
Let me just read a little at random. Ah, thank you for pushing the candle nearer.... Let's see....
"A great, pulsating star hung low in the sky over Indian Head. Emily
on it and recalled [ someone's old fancy of ] previous existence in a star.
The idea seized on her imagination and she spun a dream life, lived in
happy planet circling round that mighty, far-off sun. Then came the
northern lights--drifts of pale fire over the sky--spears of light as of
empyrean armies--pale, elusive hosts retreating and advancing. Emily lay
and watched them in rapture. Her soul was washed pure in that great bath
splendour. She was a high preistess of loveliness assisting at the divine
rites of her worship--and she knew her goddess smiled.
"High priestess of beauty--yes, she would serve at no other shrine!
"She fell asleep in this rapt mood--dreamed that she was Sappho springing from the Leucadian rock--woke to find herself at the bottom of the haystack with Ilse's startled face peering down at her."
The title? It is L. M. Montgomery's 'Emily Climbs', of whom of course our own dear Emily Rose is the namesake.
Yes, quite near Avonlea....
Must hurry for today's packet, bye bye....
Dear Emily Rose and Candida. I understand your concern on my behalf regarding Patience's tendency toward free-thinking. She is Highly Adventurous, totally Unique and completely unfettered by any Convention. She cannot be defined and refuses to let herself be. Patience simply refuses to be bound by any rules or convention. Yet, I know that in spite of (or because of?) these Devastating faults she is absolutely and totally devoted and loyal to me. How do I know? Her eyes and my intuition tell me. I can assure you that not Once in the year I have known her, have I ever been bored or neglected. I believe this is not a commodity easily come by.
As to our Church and China commotion, it is resolved. Patience called on me three days later -I still can barely forgive her for waiting so long- and allowed that a Church wedding would be fine. She reasoned that it really didn't matter to her where we got married. So if I wanted a Church so much, it would be more hypocritical of her to express any opinion to the contrary. Then she kissed me and assured me that being Married to me was far more Important to her than where the ceremony took place. While we embraced, I raised the question of our China and Silver and she paused ever so briefly before agreeing to meet the following day to decide the pattern.
We've settled on our everyday china. The silver and fine china have not yet been decided but I know that in the end my 'free-thinking' fiance will come around to my way of thinking.
Of course, being new to the district, she had never had a maid before. No girl in the Pit has maids; unless she is very wealthy--and even then they are not maids as an Aristasian uses the term. They are merely paid house- cleaners and servants, who do not understand the meaning of the word 'service'. Elise instinctively understood that to possess the services of a maid required a responsibility on the part of herself to be a pette fit to be served. And was she? She hardly felt herself to be, as ignorant in many ways as she was, and she had reacted with a horrified amazement when the District Governess said that she would arrange for a maid to be sent to her Hestia. As terrified at the prospect as Elise was, she would never dream of contradicting the Governess. If the Governess expressed a wish for her to house a maid, then house a maid she would, despite her own misgivings, which were many and anxious. She wiped her damp hands surreptitiously as she glanced at Fiona, who looked a little nervous but had managed to settle down with her up-to-date Trentish magazine again, and then looked out of the window.
A trim figure was walking purposefully up the path, wearing a dark mac
and a dark navy hat, carrying a real leather box suitcase in her hand. This
must be she! Elise flew to the mirror, reassured herself that her hair was neat,
and then answered the ring of the door bell.
"Hello, Miss. I'm the new maid, reporting for service. The name's Hannah, Miss."
"Do come in. I'm ..er..Elise."The maid looked at her as she shed her coat and hung it up neatly in a nearby closet.
"Miss Elise, yes, Miss." Elise led the way into the sitting room and gestured flutteringly to Fiona.
"Er..this is Miss Fiona." There. She had learnt something already. She was Miss Elise. It did nothing to set her anxieties at rest.
The next thirty minutes were taken up with showing the new maid the layout of the house. Occasionally she said "Very nice, Miss." and at other times she said nothing, which Elise gradually realised was a tactful response to the degree of racination present in the room. Hannah's eyes darted here and there, missing nothing, but her face was impassive. The very impassivity reassured Elise. If the house was too dreadful, surely the maid would not be able to restrain herself? At least, she hoped that this was the case.
"Would it be satisfactory to you, Miss, if I started on my duties
immediately, Miss?" Hannah asked as they stood in her new room, placing
her suitcase neatly by the wardrobe, after having removed a black and white
maid's cap from it which matched the rest of her apparel. "Wouldn't you
like to have a cup of tea first?" enquired Elise humbly. "I was going to put the
"Yes, Miss, I'll put the kettle on immediately. Would you like your tea served in the sitting room, Miss?"
Elise smiled nervously, rather taken aback, and nodded.
Hannah sat at the kitchen table, sipping her tea. She had managed to find a plain white china cup and saucer for herself in the back of the cupboard. She would rather have gone without tea at all than use the Mistress's best or second best tea service for herself. The new Mistress had obviously considered her every comfort--her room was well furnished, and only plain because it happened to be the spare guest room, rather than one in regular use. Fortunately, the furnishings were plain enough for Hannah's standards; otherwise her first self-imposed duty would have been to make it so. The house itself needed little changes here and there; a few items needed to be hidden more satisfactorily, a few items needed to be thrown away; but it really was a hestia, there was not any doubt about that. Although if there had been, Hannah mused, of course, the District Governess would never have sent her.
The first week passed by. Elise was still a little unnerved by the seeming ubiquity of Hannah. Whenever she had need of a little service, and was preparing to do it herself, Hannah was there. She lost count of the number of times that Hannah said, "Yes, Miss. I'll fetch the needles and thread." or "Yes, Miss, I'll do that straightaway, Miss." or "Yes, Miss, here's your coat, hat and gloves, Miss." Being a submissive blonde, she naturally gave way each time that Hannah took over a task that she had set herself. In addition, the hestia gained a more 'groomed' look. Small things and items that she had never noticed had changed or disappeared. Her sense of ineffectiveness started to melt a little under the imposing sun of this brunette maid, who licked the house into the shape that Elise would have it in, when Elise had no idea of how to make it so.
Hannah was pleased by the end of the second week. Yes, the house was completely racinated now, and its persona (for, yes, houses have personas too) was completely expressed through its decorations and the items therein. A District Inspectorette could call and find nothing of which any maid would be ashamed. Her work was very nearly done. Miss Fiona, the brunette, mostly ignored Hannah's presence, except when she needed something; and then she was unsuprised to find the requested item placed straight into her hand. A bit of a spoilt brunette, she shouldn't wonder. If that one ever found herself without a maid or a blonde, well, she might have a suprise. Not that she was Hannah's concern at all; the blonde is the Mistress of the Hestia, the Keeper of the Holy Flame at which all might worship and warm their souls. The brunette was sound; and there ended Hannah's consideration of her.
Miss Elise's manner was much better now; if not quite used to being looked after still, she did not shrink so much from the proffered attentions in a nervous way. She did not quite yet accept it as natural and as Hannah's duty; she did not quite have the warm acceptance of service that was balm to Hannah's heart; but she was very nearly at that point. It was a very satisfactory state of affairs; and Hannah was about to end it.
Elise heard the footsteps enter the sitting room and looked up. Hannah
stood in front of her.
"If you please, Miss, may I speak?"
Elise laid her book aside. "Certainly, Hannah."
"Could you visit the kitchen in ten minutes, Miss? There is something on which I need to know your wishes."
Elise rose. "I could come now, Hannah."
"I'm not quite ready, yet, Miss."
Elise resumed her seat. "Very well, Hannah, I shall come in ten minutes, as you request."
The appointed time arrived and Elise made her way to the kitchen, a kitchen that she had barely set foot in since Hannah's arrival except to put flowers into water and such similar little tasks. Evrey time that she had seen it, it had been in immaculate order.
Not this time. Chaos reigned. It was worse than it had ever been
when she had used it herself. Pots and pans were everywhere, all was in a
jumble, cupboards were left open, and the contents in disarray over the table;
the disorder was such that she could not find the words to describe it to
herself. The thought of such chaos in the heart of her home made her feel
quite ill. She felt as if she would like to burst into tears, overwhelmed with
the sight that lay before her.
"Hannah," she spoke "What on earth has come over you? The kitchen is in a terrible state."
"Is it, Miss?" Hannah's voice was strangely disinterested.
"Well, of course it is! I never want to see such disorder again. What on earth has come over you?"
"Couldn't say, Miss." Hannah's voice was both submissive and firm, as usual, but Elise sensed there was an element of deliberate provocation within it. She gazed around the kitchen, and then at Hannah, in perplexity.
"Hannah, dear, I do not think it is a good thing to let the kitchen become like this. It seems to me that it is an offence against the Golden Order. Do you not agree?" She spoke a little weakly.
"Yes, Miss." The voice still contained that element of provocation.
Elise gazed around the kitchen again, while thoughts flew through her mind. Those who are served must be fit to be served. Hannah knew that this disorder was against, not her expressed will, but her implied will. Was Elise truly fit to be served? Those who are served are served with but one purpose; that the Golden Order be maintained. Those who are fit to be served have but one purpose; to maintain it within every aspect and area of their lives, and the lives of those who have been placed into their care. A revelation sprang upon Elise; that this act of mute rebellion, so unlike Hannah, was a part played in a game, the Game of Life; and she instinctively knew what the part was that she had to play. With that knowledge came a resolution of her difficulties. Blonde or not, the question to be found out in this game was whether she would respond correctly or whether she could not rise above herself, and take a full part within the game.
"Hannah," Elise spoke mildly. "Clear the kitchen up immediately. And when you have done that, you may write 200 lines. 'I must always respect the Golden Order, and endeavour to manifest it on the earth.' After you have finished you may come to me with.." her eyes searched wildly around the kitchen, and then came to rest upon Hannah for inspiration, which she obviously found,"..a suitable implement, and I will punish you. And what was it that you wished to show me?"
Hannah said "Yes, Miss." in a submissive voice and then consulted Elise over some tiny point before Elise left the room. Hannah smiled to herself with pleasure as she cleared away the mess and started on the lines. On what consummate instinct had her Mistress dictated those lines? That was, indeed, Hannah's life's work and service, to endeavour to aid in the manifestation of the Golden Order on the earth. And if she served in a somewhat unusual manner, well, these were somewhat unusual times.
The next day, Hannah said goodbye to her Mistress with a warm affection. Her work was done, and it was time to leave. Elise was nearly in blonde tears at the parting, as she waved goodbye to the maid who was disappearing out of the garden gate. Hannah's thoughts were full of satisfaction. What a very lovely Mistress Miss Elise was going to be. Hannah would reccommend to the District Governess that a new girl was sent to Miss Elise, for Miss Elise to instruct in her duties as a maid. It made a perfect circle. The District Governess to Hannah, Hannah to Miss Elise, Miss Elise to a new girl; the circle of help and racination turned. And as for Hannah herself, she had been promised a week at home with the District Governess, her own true beloved Mistress, after she reported and before she was sent out upon her next task. The hat on her head set at a respectable but slightly jaunty angle, the racinating maid walked briskly down the street.
Some one has described Aristasia as "one long conversation". Well, Aphrodite is rather like that. If you want to catch up on the conversation so far, the Archive is the place to do it.