Mummy Mullies

@Pepys_Diaries What strange times we live in when we latterly disguised a fart with a cough, and now needs must disguise a cough with a fart - A rum turnaround indeed.

Happily, I hath a notion that a mask purchased during the last plague may still be in my possession, and shall seek it out i’the loft. Though cumbersome, it furnishes the wearer with the added delight of frighting my Wyffe’s dentures clear from her rattletrap.

@Pepys_Diaries As a carer in a former life I can assure you, dear sir, that leech application, cupping, copious doses of Venice Treacle and clysters worked full well in MY day. Bring back th’apothecary.

Saddened indeed to read that the laying low of our elderly was perhaps their carers’ doing, the noble Mister Johnson clear of any blame. Would that they, in the words of Mister Rees-Mogg, had simply used “common sense” and devised a strategy of their own to confound the plague!

@Pepys_Diaries A masterly jape that I have a mind to put before my goode man

Though I am mortally afeared of the plague, I hath begun to ponder whether Mrs Pepys might be persuaded out of doors betimes, and thence to a tap house at cock’s crow. Deep in her cups by noon, I warrant I might persuade her she hath the wrong lodgings on her return.

@scottkeir @Pepys_Diaries Wow! It’s sinking in at last, is it??

Someone is writing about 2020 in the style of Pepys. It is done rather well but is not him: pepysdiary.com/news/2020/03/2…

@Pepys_Diaries @samuelpepys How woeful it is that the lazy slubberdegullions that persist in their delusions spare not five minutes to ascertain the truth of their sources

Might I urge those with a stomach for the truth to take a turn to @samuelpepys, where thou shalt uncover words quilled in the year 1665, and fewer musings upon my Wyffe’s love of Nando’s.

@Pepys_Diaries Now we wait for some brainless journo to decide “coo, they had Covid in 1665 too....scoop”.

I hath fashioned a poem, musing upon events of late concerning that scoundrel, Mister Cummings.

@Pepys_Diaries @sureiwillso Groan

@sureiwillso I thank ewe.

@Pepys_Diaries “A fart is a noisy eruption that comes from the city of Bum; it flies through the valley of Trousers and comes out with a musical hum” - Samuel Pepys in the year of the great plague, 1664, for any journalist who’s interested.

Yegads! It seems mine utterances of yore continue to fly apace, shared as if quilled in 1665 rather than this year of our Lord 2020. Unable to stop up this misapprehension, perhaps I should instead revel in mine infamy.

@Pepys_Diaries It seems to mee that thy trull of a wyffe is too steeped in bacon and pork chops to mind thy child In any case - a wet nurse may be your answer sir, but woe that your mind should be worried with such foolery.

Though should mine Wyffe fall ill, I would be forced to travel far and wide to find another of the womanly sex to foist the child onto post-haste. As a man, I should not be expected to deliver care, sustenance &c to a youngling alone. A preposterous notion indeed!

@Pepys_Diaries My goodman and I, craving sport by the sea, attempted to dragoon our child to our cause by boxing her up in our carriage but she, being loath to leave the capital, did box our ears and berate us roundly. Thus am I taught not to subborn a child of 42 years to our cause.

My Wyffe and I are toasting the end of confinement with choppes and a barrel of ale. The proclamation of the blaggard Johnson reveal that we are at liberty to do as we please once we drag an urchin from the streets, claim him as our own, and clasp his best interests to our bosom.

@Pepys_Diaries I fear I find C. Brooker generally a monstrous rude and unmannerly fellow But ‘pon your good word I will observe his proceedings and hope to send good report forthwith.

‘Tis for certain that Mister Charles Brooker speaks soberly upon matters o’the plague, shining a light of truth upon them - and in doing so, doth brighten a benighted evening and make it merry.

@Pepys_Diaries Having been alert to the top of my bent the entire day, peering ‘neath my bed, in my cupboards, up my drainpipes and in my chamber vessel, I too retire betimes an exhausted and unenlightened wretch.

I find myself this eve on the verge of exhaustion, having spent the day on high alert, e’en though I know not what I am o’the lookout for. At luncheon l I espied, thanks to my exertions, two fat choppes and a pile of bacon, and bade Cook prepare the lot to ease my furrowed brow.

@Pepys_Diaries Yon cunning ruse has oftimes worked for me

The latest proclamations from Mister Johnson’s government hath offer’d me strong hopes that when it comes to paying th’household’s taxes, I hath merely to claim the monies are in the post for them to be considered paid.

@Pepys_Diaries Venturing out betimes I was much amazed to encounter multitudes of moss backed dodderers crowding the highways and defying ye lockdown, chattering together and barging law abiding folk from their paths. Strange indeed to observe these ancient lawbreakers.

I hath great curiosity upon how many Ne’er-do-wells and Gadabouts will fill London’s parks now London’s skies hath been fill’d with mizzle and cloud. No doubt t’will suddenly be less essential for such Rogues to loiter and tarry awhile than when the sun doth show her face.

@Pepys_Diaries All but an addle pate agrees that as the plague is caused by evil humours rising upward, nose plugs be a sovereign physik. I look rather dashing in mine.

That scandalous rogue Mister Trump hath confessed his words of days past were mere jest, intended to pour scorn upon the wordsmen of his kingdom. By my troth, I hath not led a country myself, but suspect such knavery serves Death more keenly than it doth the trembling populace.

@Pepys_Diaries Devil take it, how I repent me that I injected bleach into my fundament in efforts to swerve the obnoxities of the plague.

@Pepys_Diaries This plague brings many curses. Thank Heaven my good man is now at hand to teach me the correct way to order my cupboards, which by my troth I hath been making a pig’s ear of these many years past.

Once more, the sun doth mock Londoners through their casements. E’re the plague befell us, endless rain afflicted our skies, only for the sun to show his sheepish face now we’re all shuttered up. Storms shall brew the moment we are once more at liberty, I’d lay mine life upon’t.

@Pepys_Diaries If the charm of thy face is equalled by the readiness of thy wit, Mrs Pepys is one lucky bitch.

On mine daily constitutional, I hath taken to brandishing a fearsome cough to clear my path, much as I might brandish a horn or bell. When beplagued fellows barge in my way, a lusty and unfettered clearing o’the lungs sees them finding their consideration and swerving post-haste.

@Pepys_Diaries Resort to the periwig I say, saving both monies and the risk of having a barber breathe his ghastly humours in thy face.

I hath been watching with amazed eye as fellows across the waters doth beg to be given liberty to furnish themselves with a haircut and thence to catch a dose o’the plague. Mine mind doth boggle: when disease ravaged London in days of yore, such sights were not to be beheld!

@Pepys_Diaries @absentsil A worthy aim but I fear impossible to execute

@absentsil You misunderstand, sir: my aim is merely that her tongue be stilled a while longer.

Up betimes, to a clattering beneath my casement. We hath become so used to the blessed peace delivered by the shuttering-up of cacophonous street urchins, that the merest whisper wakes Mrs Pepys from her slumbers. I prithee, keep the peace hereabouts, that she may slumber on!