Mrs Finnegan’s Year in Books

Or what a busy housekeeper reads when two things collide: a good book and a few moments of leisure

Housekeepers are not great readers. How can we be with the responsibility of an ENTIRE household bearing down upon our work-weary shoulders?

While we are often found at our desks, it is accounts books and ledgers that SHRIEK for attention and drown out the dove-like murmurings of a romance (set in a castle). We are tied to columns of figures you have to take a CHISEL to dig out their full meaning rather than paragraphs of elegant prose that wrap around you like an old shawl.

And yet I have read two books this year and neither have a castle in them (or at least not yet).

The first is about sailing ships which isn’t my kind of thing at all especially as it is set when we were defending ourselves from the wickedness of France, but a visitor left it at number 49 and the housekeeper wanted to swap it for something edible. So I got the first volume of Mr. Midshipman Easy for a jar of pickled eggs, it being winter time and eggs therefore out of season. I didn’t MENTION how long the jar had been sitting on my shelf as I’d inherited if from the previous housekeeper. The yolk of a pickled egg sometimes has a mind to go an odd shade of mud when left too long, but she hasn’t asked for the book back so all is well.

And the book itself? I liked old Mr Easy and his conviction that every person was born to INHERIT a share of the earth. I mentioned it to Master Peregrine, who said the old gentleman was entirely right because didn’t we all get our own bit of land when we were buried in the cemetery.

I also took a liking to Mephistopheles Faust, a man who had freed himself from slavery and was a better sailor than the hero who had more notions than he had WHISKERS on his chin. I haven’t got the next two volumes so I am not sure what happens next. I’m hoping it will be called Mr Midshipman Easy Grows Up

I am also left wondering about the next story. The first instalment of The Pickwick Papers came out in April. Myself and two other housekeepers AGREED to club together to buy it every month and take it in turns to read. THAT arrangement fell to pieces in July when it was my turn to have first go. Gubby Straddle said she had to go away with her family for a sennight and begged to take it with her. I conceded out of charity, but didn’t I see her at market the following Tuesday HIDING behind a hill of black pudding? Yes, I did and she had already passed it on to Milly Krutch saying she didn’t think I’d mind. You don’t get to be Mrs Finnegan by not minding.

The result is I am way behind with my reading and whenever I am passing those two are forever dropping remarks about the amusing thing Sam Weller did or said, and what LARKS they were having at The Dingley Dell Cricket Club as if it was a place they frequented themselves.

So acutely did I feel the loss it almost made me want to give up reading altogether to save myself further pain. And then Master P remarked that The Pickwick Papers was coming out as a proper full-sized book soon. Do you think soon might mean before Christmas?

There is an oblong parcel tied up in brown paper under his side of the bed. Of course, it could be the flannel petticoat I said I needed, but I don’t THINK he was listening.

I might give it a prod when he is asleep tonight.

We can talk about books and pickles if you come to The Regency Town House next Saturday afternoon. You know the address, don’t you? 13 Brunswick Square, West Brighton by the sea. The time is 2pm to 6pm and the date 9th December 1836.

I can promise a decent pot of tea will be available and very good cake. There is talk of Mrs Fitzherbert coming. She certainly replied to the invitation with a charming message saying she would be DELIGHTED. (But is that delighted she was invited or so VERY delighted that she will come?)

I have to warn you that the mistress Mrs Hankey will be prowling the corridors, but don’t let that put you off.

Some handsome gentlemen have also promised to attend, just thought I’d mention it.