30th October 1811. The Soaps.

Just to explain the above reference to my soaps for those few of you who don’t understand. One of my many army general-type skills is my use of manpower. (Not that kind, well not yet, but give me half a chance, heh heh). The servants. A pretty much untapped resource, underestimated by everyone but moi. They are treated as practically invisible, like food appears on the table by magic, but I alone in this family treat them as human beings. Exactly the way I treat my sisters, and if I had any, brothers. Thus I have created a network of informants and helpers, as all the servants know each other from Hall to House, and by getting down with the servos, I can get them to do all sorts of extra stuff for me, like our Hill and her compadres do extra sewing for my accessories, trimming my bonnets, curling my hair, finishing my dreary napkin hemming and such when the boredom gets too much for me. And of course all the goss gets passed along and I get my ears on it before it hits the rest of the family. Result! I reward my army of assistants by passing on my or Kitty’s worn out clothes, shoes, and any odds and ends I no longer need or which are, like, so over in fashion terms, or that I pick up in Ma’s room or my sisters’. Servants, I’ve noticed, seem to be about the house at all hours for some reason, so they don’t get much chance to go shopping. So they are grateful for my gifts as well they might be. And I can keep up with events before they happen. Eg Fanny, our underhousemaid, has a bro who’s footman at Netherfield, so I’m like, connected there. This may be useful now that Blingley's installed...

Oh yes, soaps. So, one of the things I like to do, is keep up with the serialised stories which get printed and sold in Meryton, or sent from London by other rellies or other bloggers on the Net. However being dead busy, I get Hill to read them for me, and then give me a sinp sinop synp the deets while I’m working on my complexion or whatevs. It gives her a chance to read them too of course, so while she’s up to her armpits in soapsuds washing up in the scullery, she tells me each episode and I sit by the range all cosy, to listen and drink hot choc and do my nails. That’s why I call them my soap stories, or soaps for short.

My fave is ‘Hollyoaks Hall’, all about real McFitties and bitchy girls and stuff. Gotta love it! Hill does a great job of it, I tell her, maybe one day they’ll write a soap about her and her family, they could call it ‘The Hills’! (Like that’ll ever happen!) Being a servant sucks, but hey, they’ve got me to make life more interesting. And by all accounts they get up to all sorts in the Servants’ Hall, so their social life is way better than most of my sisters’ and their dweebie friends' tedious tea-drinkings.

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