Ah. Daylight peeks through the slight gap in the satin brocade curtains surrounding my four-poster bed. As I turn on my side, the gentle hiss of the goose down mattress lulls me back to sleep… An hour or two later, I hear sounds, the soft footfalls of the maid as she carries in a pot of chocolate and warm scones with clotted cream and lemon curd.
Begin each day with a healthy breakfast, I always say.
While I eat, she lays out a morning gown, soft white lawn sprigged with tiny yellow flowers along the ruffle. Soon I descend to my morning room, where I sit at my dainty escritoire and pore through my correspondence.
Hmm, whose soirees shall I attend? Which balls? So much to think about, I find I must ring for the maid to bring a cold compress and a tonic.
Now I change into a carriage dress of rich gros-de-Naples silk and a pelisse trimmed in fur, for it is time for a carriage ride in Hyde Park, and then off to make my morning calls. It is now two in the afternoon, hardly what one would term “morning” you might remark, but I would hasten to point out that no civilized human being would ever dream of paying a morning call any earlier that that. How gauche! By the by, I do quite realize that one or two of the ladies I intend calling upon may not, for various reasons, be receiving, but allowing my groom to add my card to their salver will quite fulfill my obligation to return the calls they paid me whilst I too was not receiving.
Now for the best part of my day: shopping on Bond Street. We’ll begin at Picadilly and work our way north to Oxford Street. Can a lady ever have too many bonnets or gloves or reticules?
And I must remember to stop in at my modiste – surely my gown for the new queen’s coronation must be ready by now…
Good heavens, what is that incessant ringing noise? Now someone is nudging me – how dare they? Stop, stop I say! I…
Crap. Nothing but a dream. It’s 6am, time to get up, rouse my daughter, make breakfast, drive her to school (because she’s scrambling to finish up a project due in, oh, about an hour and a half and will therefore have to miss her usual ride), then home again, write blog, check email (our version of morning correspondence), make obligatory phone calls (our version of morning calls), throw in some laundry, work on revisions, shop for dinner and a mother’s day gift for mom, run home, tidy up house, drive daughter to violin lesson (hopefully she’ll get a ride home from school or I’ll have to add that to my list), run home, work a little more on revisions, make dinner, remember to finally throw the laundry in the dryer, etc., etc.
Guess I won’t be going to that coronation, huh?