A pleasant distraction

A pleasant day, my aunt came to town, making some excuse about other business in Arkham to pay me an extended visit, it was unusual for a Tuesday - but once it was in progress I found it most welcome to actually speak to another human being - I wasn't aware quite how misanthropic I had become until it was unexpectedly interrupted.

She had stopped along the way for supplies - a foil sealed container of British tea (sourced from the indies) and a classic Banbury cake -  an oval aspect with three slashes across the top.  In 1869, Robert Chambers wrote, in his Book of Days, the cakes “are exported to the most distant parts of the world, one baker alone, in 1839, disposing of 139,500 twopenny ones.  It was quite delicious.

Conversation was of the normal puerile sort, but against my misery it was somewhat welcome to just airily chatter about very little of consequence.

I avoided the subject of the odour in the halls, explaining that it was a malfunctioning W.C. on one of the other floors.  I couldn't help but notice my Aunt was wrinkling her nose at times and obsessive with her nosegay - a floral affair drenched in cheap perfume.  I didn't blame her - the reek was as bad, maybe even worse than yesterday.  I don't expect another visit in the near future - well, at least until the carpets are stripped out - there are already rude notes on the notice board on the ground floor - other residents are enraged - and the trail leads right to my door.