I Do Like to Be Beside the Seaside…

Lorne luxury hotelI should very much like to go away again. Going away is so delightful. I think while the boats are being fixed that option is off the cards, but we could always stay landlocked and go to one of the many hotels Father owns. In fact, I don’t think we’ve ever been to a hotel that Father does not own, so there’s that to consider.

I don’t really know…Daddy’s business goes right over my head, and whenever I ask he tells me to go and play with my dolls. Still, he has promised me my own holiday getaway when I turn sixteen, even though that is many years away, and I have my sights set on Lorne. The Luxury accommodation there is simply marvellous, though I don’t think our family owns anything there currently. Quite a number of my school chums have spoken about what exciting times they’ve had there, so I don’t see why not. I’ve heard the beaches are excellent for shells and rock pools, which despite Mummy’s constant warnings I simply adore exploring. Perhaps there will also be caves to venture into. Caves filled with treasure and smugglers, and a group of us from school will end up getting the smugglers arrested and we shall be the town heroes!

I’ve been reading about such things in my Edith Blighty books. Those children and their dog are always getting themselves into such exciting situations involving smugglers and lashings of ginger beer…it makes one want to jump into the books and go adventuring alongside them! Though Mummy said I shouldn’t wish such things, being a lady and such, and I should focus on my education. I’m afraid I cannot help imagining. I will own my beach apartment in Lorne, and me and my friend shall have such adventures, even if they and my friends are all imaginary. Imaginary is the best kind of thing, I think.


Business, Conveyancing and…Business

conveyancing lawyersAs anyone would know, conveyancing is transferring property from one person to another. Everyone knows that. Even Madeira probably knows it, and she’s a silly little thing who likes to chase butterflies and other silly things. Father has connections in the world of conveyancing and settlement in Melbourne, the city in which we live, and that means that it’ll be part of the empire I am to one day inherit. I simply must educate myself on all of its facets.

Thing is, there are so many facets upon which I must educate myself, since Father owns a great deal of them. Conveyancing is only one. Still, it is to do with housing, and housing is key. People need houses, even if their houses are not as big as ours. I wonder, were conveyancers involved in the purchase of Whitehall Chamber back in 1562? Was the profession as prolific then as it is now?

Certainly, there is much to learn, and now that I am eleven, my time grows short. Father prides himself on knowing every aspect of his business, which is why I have used the google to ascertain such things as the sale of land act, solicitor guidelines and regulations regarding settlement. I have made extremely little progress in my understanding of these documents, however. They seem to be written in a legal language that my law tutor, Donatello, has not yet thought fit to teach me. What, for example, is ‘deficit’? Oh, the definition is simple enough, but knowledge of definitions can only take me so far. I still struggle to apply this knowledge. Perhaps it is my inexperience? Should I ask Donatello? No, I will not! He has a loathsome habit of declaring certain knowledge beyond my ability, when in reality, I do not believe anything is so if I apply myself correctly.

Perhaps Father does not understand everything about business. After all, Melbourne’s conveyancing lawyers must study for years to gain their qualifications, and they are immersed in the industry of strange words and meanings. Yes, that must be it. A glancing knowledge is enough, and so I should not concern myself greatly. I have more important things to do, in any case…such as maths homework.

-Archibald Clancy II

My mother: a vain child

anti wrinkle injectionsUnbelievable.

My mother is a mess. Honestly, most of the time I have no idea what she’s doing. It’s like she’s had this huge mental break and decided that she’s just going to be completely irrational. I guess it probably has something to do with the fact that dad’s just married Sal, but honestly, she’s a grown woman and this is ridiculous.

She Snapchatted me on Thursday (becoming a fervent social media user is just one of the many symptoms of her new madness) showing me a picture of her getting an anti wrinkle injection in Melbourne. Just a quick disclaimer: I have nothing against getting anti wrinkle injections, or any kind of cosmetic surgery for that matter. In fact, I’m all for self-love and self-care and taking care of you and your needs. But here is a woman with two maxed credit cards who is struggling to make rent spending way in excess of her means. Honestly, she’s like a child with absolutely no conception of responsibilities. Actually, she knows she has responsibilities, she just doesn’t seem to care anymore. I mean, last month it she was telling me all about her dermal fillers – Melbourne high society’s newest trend, apparently – and just a short month later she’s getting some kind of botox? It’s all just madness, plain and simple.

Here’s the problem, though. I don’t want to be the one bailing her out. When they split, I vowed to be the neutral party, but if mother begins to lean on me a little too heavily, everything becomes unequal and I know that if I try and spend more time with dad to even it out a little, mum will get mad. She’s basically pushing me into a lose-lose situation here: either I do nothing and watch her accrue debt until she drowns in it, or I step in to help and alienate my father. So yeah. Thanks mum.

Simple Television Fanaticism

TV antenna installationThat we must cater to Mother’s TV whims is rather tiresome. If you ask me, television is a distraction from the truly important things in life, such as making enormous amounts of money and making oneself look presentable for business partners, so that one may go on to seal deals and make enormous amounts of money. Mother fritters away so much of her time on the idiot box that I wonder what effect it has on her psyche. I shall have to ask Andronicus, my Thursday tutor.

Of course, like all things, television can be used for good. No, I do not cast aspersion on those who undertake TV antenna installation in Melbourne nor do I scorn the industry itself. There are a select few programmes I find agreeable, especially after a long day of study and intense concentration. For example, you may argue that Adolescent Mutated Shinobi Terrapins is low-brow, cheap entertainment that can only be enjoyed by the common masses. However, I have regularly managed to find deeper and more profound themes within the show that convince me of its worthiness. What are they? They are many, and great, and incredibly varied. No, I cannot name any right now. It’s very obvious; perhaps you should watch it yourself!

So you see, television has its place. For one thing, it does entertain the common masses, and of course Father has his connections and investments in the industry, as he does in most all of them. For example, he owns Channel 67, which mostly broadcasts surprisingly popular programmes about wallpapering. Apparently the demographic is elderly. Undoubtedly the industry of Melbourne’s antennas shall soon be under the Clancy grasp, which I shall one day inherit. Perhaps I shall take advantage of my position of power and answer some of Mother’s complaints about there being ‘nothing good to watch’. Somehow. Oh, and AMST marathons, so that all may appreciate the genius.

-Archibald Clancy II

In needs of another repairman

drain inspections MelbourneAt this point, I have just one question. One, measly little favour to ask of the universe. I just want to know: when will the bad luck ever end?

I’m serious. I’m so over it. I just can’t handle any more of this, lurching from one catastrophe to another. It’s like, every time I think I’ve got my life together, something else just, all of a sudden, something else decides to break or fall apart in my hands and we’re back to square one.

I know, I know, reading through all of this, I seem a little ‘doom and gloom’, but I’m just over it. For the last three weeks or so, I’ve been trying to sort out window repairs after one of the frames split straight up the middle, making the thing no longer water/wind resistant. Let me tell you, the whole thing has been a process and a half. I guess at this point, I should be used to the fact that when a drainage tradie says 3-4 days they really mean 3-4 weeks. Anyway, just when that was all done and dusted and the window was finally fixed, something went terribly wrong with my drains.

For the first day or so, I decided I would do anything about it. If I just ignored it, that it would just go away. Unfortunately, problems don’t usually work like that. Three days in, it was clear I would need to call someone about getting drain inspections in Melbourne. I mean, I’ve never had to do anything about my drains before, but at this point, I know the process I have to go through. It’s not exactly rocket science, and to say I’ve done it a dozen times before would be an understatement. This time, the search term just happens to be ‘blocked drains Melbourne’.

A Splendid, Common Party!

kids play centreArchibald went to a party yesterday. Now, I’m quite used to parties involving violins, live dance troupes, French canapes and light conversation over seafood. Personally, I find it all a little bit tiresome; just once I’d like a group of school chums over for a good chat, and maybe some of this ‘fish and chips’ business that commoners talk about all the time. It sounds rather scrumptious, I must say.

Alas, Mother and Father seem obsessed with seafood. But anyway, this party of Archibald’s. It was indeed a school chum and it sounded like a real hoot. You maybe have heard of indoor play centres. Bayswater has one, so says Matilda from class 3C, and they sound a little bit frightening, if also rather fun. Now, Mother and Father would never let us go to one, as they are for the common folk, but Archibald’s friend had another idea. He had some engineering folks come and set up a play centre on the mansion grounds, so they had the place to themselves. The entire structure was temporary, or so I’m told, and they had marvellous fun with the custom-made delights and entertainment.

This makes a little bit more sense to me. The play centres of which I have heard before seem to cater more to a younger audience, perhaps even younger than myself at the age of seven. No doubt there would be fun to be had, but perhaps it would be in limited supply. By Archie’s telling, there were engineering puzzles, mathematical conundrums to be solved and a host of other intellectual pursuits that made the party much more fun than simply playing one one’s own whims. Or rather…I think so.

Perhaps once I would like to try a play centre. They are also birthday party venues, Bentleigh East and Bayswater being two such examples. Imagine such a thing! Oh, to be one of the common folk, if only for a day…


A Lot of Fuss About Insects

pest control MorningtonDaddy says that our anti-insect system in the mansion is ‘state-of-the-art’. I will have to ask my tutor, Copernicus, what that actually means, because I simply can’t make head or tail of it. He was on edge for a frightfully long time after Mummy discovered ants in the bread bin. The whole place was in an uproar, so much so that I had my friend Matilda over for a playdate and we had to go out on the grounds to one of our treehouses to escape the ruckus.

Men in funny suits running back and forth, Daddy barking orders…I later found out that he had summoned every pest control expert from Mornington and beyond to the house, and they were slightly surprised to find that they were all there at the same time. It was like a convention, I suppose. Matilda must have thought that our home had gone utterly mad. I rather think it had!

Now, the mansion has all kinds of ways out keeping the animals outside. There’s also a panic button in the kitchen that Mummy can press if she sees a termite or a cockroach, and it’ll summon a pest control agent. I rather think that Daddy dislikes insects and bugs somewhat, given his reaction. He sacked the entirety of the kitchen staff and brought in new ones, then gave them extensive training in spotting infestations. Golly, I’d hate to see how he’d react if he knew I was keeping a stray rat in my room and feeding him random bits of French brie I manage to steal from the afternoon tea platter. I think he likes it, but I just think about how Daddy would react if he saw my little friend. Then again, he never actually comes into my room, being far too busy with office matters. Mummy wouldn’t understand either, and I just know that Archie would tell on me, the little beast.

Those termite control people from Mornington are terrible efficient, however. Perhaps it’s time my rat friend found a new home. Then he could bite someone else for a change.


Oxygen to Cure the Breathing Problems

healing oxygen therapyI was channel surfing today, which I usually do right after lunch when I’m a bit tired from playing croquet with the girls or taking a helicopter tour. We just bought the deluxe gold platinum ultra shiny premium plus package, so we have ALL the channels and sometimes surfing through them all can take an entire afternoon. I mean, really. It’s time-consuming!

Sometimes I get stuck on something I find interesting, most often the animal channel but today the health channel. I saw something and just KNEW that we had to get one for the mansion. Maybe two! Oxygen therapy in Melbourne is taking off, and I know because a fellow in a white coat said so, on the TV no less. They don’t let people on TV unless they’re trustworthy; that’s what Vera said! Anyway, this oxygen thing just involves sitting in a glass box thing and getting healthy. Now, I love the treadmill, don’t get me wrong. But I need to look into this oxygen therapy thing, because no matter what mode I select, I always end up SO out of breath. What if I could get more breath? More breath would be nice.

Ooh, and I just picked up yoga! I do wonder, what are the chances of being able to hop inside your hyperbaric chamber thingy and do some yoga moves? My personal yoga teacher is from Albajeria and he’s SO harsh. I’m ending up totally exhausted with all that stretching, and he just tuts and says I’m not trying hard enough. If I had an oxygen chamber…well, I’d never be out of breath!

I’ll have to look it up on the computer machine, or have Sebastian do it for me because that thing baffles me! There must be somewhere in Melbourne that does hyperbaric chambers who’ll make one of their tanks just a little bit bigger to accommodate my stretches. If not…well, I could always just spend my afternoon nap in there. Yoga is so hard…


Next Time, Shop Melbourne Windows

aluminium window repairTypical: you order your windows from an esteemed Estonian company, have them shipped over specially and then at the first sign of a storm, they all show themselves to be worthless. This was meant to be quality European double-glazing, and now the study window has blown in. My red-grade files were almost ruined by the rain.

It’s unacceptable. I’ve half a mind to simply buy out the company and install sub-par coffee machines on every floor that dispense the wrong drinks. However, the paperwork would be absolutely frightful. Currently I’m devoting my efforts to finding a place in Melbourne that does timber window replacements. Buy local, that’s what my Father always told me. Support the local economy until the way when you become rich enough to take it over. It’s essentially sowing the seeds for your own success! It’s worked for me thus far, but right now I have to have the mansion windows replaced. Quality Australian workmanship, this time!

Perhaps it’s time for a change. I have a large viewing window in my study the looks out upon the mansion grounds, gilded with timber beams and specially crafted to allow the greatest viewing space. However, I’m rethinking the design. I host business partners in my study on occasion, and one must keep up with the times. Aluminium is currently a big-name product in the window industry, so perhaps it could be incorporated. Cecelia will have a fit if I replace the window in the library, but for my private study this may suffice. Yes, perhaps…if aluminium windows in Melbourne are the trend, I must keep up with the Joneses. Dirty, money-grubbing Joneses. Always trying to impress with their fancy villa on the hill. Well, Whitehall shall stand tall with its aluminium windows, the pride of the community! And it may help me to seal a business deal or two. Another thing father taught me: dress to impress, and that includes your office space.

-Percival Clancy III

Father’s Flawless Business Organisation

conveyancersThe father playbook for all things financial? Let someone else do it. No, really, it’s what I’ve been taught. Of course, you must oversee everything yourself and have a thorough of understanding of financial matters. Imagine not having something like that! The thought makes me titter. But no, the dreary, hand-on business is best left to people with the expertise. My tutor taught me all the sum I needed to know when I was six, and thus the nitty-gritty common parlance can be delegated while I sip my custom-produced bergamot tea and educate myself as to the latest affairs.

It’s really the learning that has me slightly bamboozled at the moment, however. Yesterday, Father called me into his study to discuss matters of great business importance. He let me look at his directory, in which he keeps all the Melbourne property conveyancing experts who inhabit his payroll, since the matter at hand was to do with one of our investments. Property conveyancers, as I have long known, are the backbone of Father’s housing empire. Without them he’d be left sifting through mounds of paperwork every day, not leaving his office until 10pm and Mother would be ever so cross. She dislikes it when Father is not present at the very end of our obscenely-long dining table for our evening discussion of the day’s events.

In any case, conveyancing is a practice in which I have become well-acquainted, and thus I had heard many of the names before. To be surprise, however, many of the names were unfamiliar. Father’s business connections stretch much deeper than I had anticipated, hence why he dedicates an entire bookshelf to property conveyancing alone. I must confess, I was astounded at the intense level of organisation I would be inheriting. Father assured me that this would all be part of my education, however. By the time I’m ready to inherit the estate, I’ll have glanced over every vendors statement in Melbourne and shaken the hands of the people who’d signed them. What spiffing fun!

-Archibald Clarence II