Greetings, my dear friends!

It snowed again this morning.  Not very much, but enough to make things slippery.  Phoebe and the colonel came to visit.  They had walked up from their home, and poor Phoebe's nose was quite red from the cold.  The colonel's nose is always red, thanks to his fondness for brandy.  He disappeared into the bar the minute they arrived.  I think Phoebe was quite relieved to be rid of him for a while.

I haven't seen Madeline since Christmas.  I expect she is busy with little Angelina.  Babies can be such a handful.  Almost as much trouble as the colonel.  I asked Clive to sweep the outside steps.  He had put sand down earlier, to prevent our guests from falling.  The trouble with that is that everyone walks sand into the lobby, and the maids have a terrible time getting it out of the carpet, even with the carpet sweepers.  I wish we had electricity in the hotel.  I would dearly love one of those new fangled machines I saw in a magazine.  Apparently, one simply plugs it in and it sucks up all the dirt.  Can you imagine?  What time it would save us!
There are some things to be said for modern technology, though I do hate those dreadful motor cars and their noisy, smelly engines.  Now they have machines that can fly.  Heaven knows what this world is coming to, with all these machines.  What if they fall out of the sky?  Dreadfully dangerous if you ask me.

I've ordered a carriage to take me into Wellercombe.  Samuel will be waiting for me, so I'd better sign this letter and be off.  I hope you all have a wonderful week, and I will try to return next week with more news.  Though things tend to be rather quiet in Badger's End this time of year.  Considering all the excitement we had  before Christmas, I'd say that's a good thing.

Cecily Sinclair Baxter

 Good day, my dear friends.   I have been invited by my very dear friend, Kate Kingsbury, to send you all news from the Pennyfoot Country Club.  She tells me there is a new-fangled contraption that allows her to send my messages to millions of people by something called a computer.  I have no idea what she's talking about, but I promised to write her a letter now and then, which she will send on to all of you.  I trust her, since she has faithfully recounted my adventures in so many books.  Still, I must confess, all this jibber jabber concerning technology goes right over my head.


I am writing this in the office of the Pennyfoot, while the maids are busy with their daily tasks.  We are still recovering from the dreadful events of this past Christmas, though I'm happy to say most of the staff seem to be putting it all behind them.  Michel has been experimenting with some new dishes from France, and Mrs. Chubb has had all the eiderdowns from every guest room washed and hung on the clothesline in the kitchen yard.  It is still very cold here on the southeast coast of England, but a stiff breeze from the ocean will soon dry the wash.


Gertie seems down in the dumps.  Pansy told me that Gertie has broken off her relationship with Dan.  I know how painful that can be, but much as I like Dan, I feel it is for the best.  Baxter has recovered nicely from a nasty cold.  He is his usual rambunctious self again.  


I feel I have rambled on enough for now.  Kate tells me that this is a very simple page, whatever that means, and that she's hoping to update? (I think that's what she said) later on.   I will try to send a letter to her now and again, whenever my duties at the Pennyfoot allow.   Thank you for your attention and I wish all of you a very lovely day.


Cecily Sinclair Baxter