An interview with Lord Foolish

At the request of the Order Of The Green Heart, I went to meet Lord Foolish at his country home, Caridaweigh Castle. What follows is a verbatim transcription, by one of the Order’s interns, from my voice recorder. It has not been edited in any way.

[Start of file]

[clicks, rustling]

Voice: [whispering, hurried] I just rang the bell, and I’m going to do it again, because listen:

[A deep sonorous CLANG-clang]

Voice: [still whispering] That’s his doorbell! It makes Big Ben sound like a travel alarm!

Second voice: [shouting, distant, preremptory] I’m coming!

[A door opens, creaking slowly]

Second voice: Yes?

1st voice: Oh, good morning, I have an appointment with Lord Foolish. My name’s Stuart James.

2nd voice: Foalish.

1st voice (Stuart James): I’m sorry?

2nd voice: It’s pronounced Foalish. Foal-Ish.

SJ: Is it? They didn’t tell me that, thanks for the tip. Is he around?

2nd voice: He’s right here.

SJ: [pause] Oh, you’re Lord Fu-oal-ish. I’m sorry, I was expecting servants, flunkeys -?

2nd voice (Lord Foolish): People often are. No, there’s just me. The lad from the village, he’s taken the day off. Said he had stuff to do, whatever that means. [pause] How would you like me?

SJ: I’m sorry?

LF: Ceremonial, or casual? If you want ceremonial, there are several ceremonials to choose from. The ermine’s at the House, naturally, but I can do Under-Bishop, or Master of Fox Hounds, no trouble. MFH actually looks more Lordly than the ermine does, I always think.

SJ: Ah, you’re expecting the portraitist?

LF: Are you not him, then?

SJ: No, I do interviews, writing. The portraitist is someone else. If they haven’t given you a different date she’ll be along later, probably.

LF: She? They didn’t tell me it was a she. Right. I’ll look forward to that. Well, don’t just stand there like a lemon, come inside and we’ll start again.

[The same door creaking again. Echoing footsteps]

LF: [murmuring] The South library, I think… [A succession of doors open and close] Yes. [normal tone] Drink?

SJ: Thank you. [tinkling glasses, pouring liquid] Thank you. Mmm. Oh, this is good. Can I apologise again for the mix-up over your name?

LF: No need, think nothing of it. [pause] They called me Pony, at school.

SJ: Who did?

LF: Everyone. Apart from the masters, of course, and Matron.

SJ: What did they call you?

LF: Caridaweigh Minor, obviously, until my brother had his accident. Then I was Caridaweigh Nunc Solus until the end of Michaelmas Term, and plain Caridaweigh after that.

SJ: That seems a little confusing.

LF: I don’t see why, it’s perfectly standard practice. What were you called at school?

SJ: James, to most people, or You there, or something like StooAnDumplings, depending on how well they knew me.

LF: StooAn — what?

SJ: Dumplings. You know, “stew and dumplings”? You eat it?

LF: No I do not, it sounds disgusting. Hraeiough. Anyway, that’s enough about you, I’m the star today, so I understand. What did you want to know?

SJ: I was hoping you could tell me about yourself, things your public might like to hear. Personal things, more than just name, rank and serial number?

LF: Oh, well, you should really start with those, get ’em out of the way. Name, Serendipity Caridaweigh, short form of rank Lord Foalish, long form of rank Margrave of Moxburghshire, serial number eleven, I suppose.

SJ: Eleven?

LF: I’m the 11th Margrave Of That Ilk. My father was the 9th, my brother would have been 10th. That makes me the 11th.

SJ: I see. And your given name is Serendipity?

LF: Yes. Dippy, to my pals. [pause] What about it?

SJ: It’s a rather unusual name.

LF: If you think that, I’d say you must move in very dull circles. I do have an unusual middle name, if that piques your interest.

SJ: Oh, yes please, very much so. What is it?

LF: Alterego. What d’you think of that, eh?

SJ: Well, it usually means —

LF: [interrupting] No idea, have you? I’ll tell you. It’s the name of the old family estate, in Carpathia. Fabulous place, they tell me, but rather run-down now. I’ve never seen it, myself.

SJ: In Carpathia.

LF: Yes. D’you know where that is? I don’t! [laughter] Come to think of it, it’s probably a bit of a drain on the finances. I’d have to ask the accountant. [pause] I always feel he has a meter running in the background. That’s the trouble with old money, you see, it’s not yours to spend, it’s all spoken for. [pause] Still, I have enough left that I can live here in something like comfort as you see, and do a bit of work for this Order of yours.

SJ: It’s not exactly mine. Not at all, in fact.

LF: The apple lady’s then.

SJ: Apple lady? I’m afraid you’ve lost me.

LF: You know the one I mean. You do! Now, where did I …? [pause. Rustling] There. That one.

SJ: Ah, I see.

LF: That’s what I call temptation! I’d have a bite of that any day! [laughter] Old Adam would have stood no chance! [laughter]

SJ: Mmm. I wonder… I’m thinking, I might be able to get this autographed for you.

LF: Dear God no, what do you take me for? That would be terribly embarrassing! Schtum, please. [pause] I’ll have that back, if you don’t mind.[pause. Rustling] Thank you.

SJ: Can we talk about what you’re going to do for the Order?

LF: Yes, it’s rather exciting in a way. We don’t see a lot of excitement up here, you know, since we lost the last of the bears.

SJ: You kept bears?

LF: Of course we didn’t keep bears! You can’t keep a bear, not as a pet. And they’re not working animals at all. They came and went as they pleased.

SJ: So… you had wild bears running around, like cats?

LF: A bear is nothing like a cat. Have you never been to a zoo? Enormous things, bears. That was their undoing. The last one, Montmorency we called him, fell over the ha-ha and broke his neck. Had to get the herriot up from town to put him out of his misery, poor old soul. No mate, no descendants. He thought he was human, you see. He always knew when to come down for afternoon tea. Loved dressaging.

SJ: You were going to tell me about your work...?

LF: Well, I’ve done all sorts of things in my time, besides running this place. Acting, for instance. Can you see me as Hamlet?

SJ: When you stand like that—

LF: Casting directors never could. But I did once play Laertes on an ice-floe drifting through the Skaggerak. Gave it a real sense of place, and we only lost a few of the non-speaking parts as the extremities melted. Then there was a bit of gun-running for the Tasmanian Separatist Army. Or was it for the Tasmanian Loyalist Front? Always got those two confused. I’m pretty sure the same man was General of both.

SJ: I actually meant your work for the Order.

LF: Well, why didn’t you say? Have to make yourself crystal clear, my lad, otherwise people will always get the wrong end of the stick.

SJ: OK. I’d like to know, in your own words, exactly what the Order can expect from —

[CLANG-clang bell sound, louder and clearer than previously]

LF: That’s the West Door again. Strange, I’m not — Oh, it’ll be your painter girlie!

SJ: I really don’t think she’d like to be called —

LF: Never mind what you think, how do I look? Hraeiough. See yourself out, can you? There’s a way through the scullery that’ll get you back to the front of the Tower in five minutes, ten at the outside. Just remember to keep turning left. Or is it right? Well, it comes to the same thing as long as you’re consistent.

SJ: So this is —

LF: Yes. Goodbye, hope to see you again. Scullery’s that way. Don’t get lost, and watch out for the ha-ha.

[footsteps, receding rapidly. Rustling. More footsteps, slower, uncertain. Rustling]

SJ: I suppose I may as well turn this —

[click]

[End of file]