My bed gets made when I leave. I have my own limousine driver who comes and goes as he pleases — in his own time! Sometimes even leaving me behind 😦
So I take my car as my butler warms it up while making sure it’s got enough petrol and tires are inflated before I chart my course for the day.
My coffee need be made by my butler. Only he knows exactly how I like it (how strong I want it, how much sugar – topping it with my favourite flavoured creamer). Or preparing my breakfast – where I’d like to sit, which plate to use, which flatware, and which cup for my tea/coffee.
When my butler goes shopping, he knows exactly where to put them and the receipts too. He even has his own key hook.
Washing hands and using towels can get tricky – I think my butler is colour-blind. What about the tools and supplies my butler uses? Oh, he knows where they should be and where to put them back but his memory’s failing him too often. Clothes get washed though a refresher course on Folding 101 would smooth things better.
He’s very good, though, with looking after the Little Prince and the Devious Princess. He gives in to their every whim and desires of heart. I’m afraid I may have passed on my bigger share of genes. I do admire him with his gentle ways of upbringing. He’s got his own business to attend to but their needs are always before his.
He takes out the dust bin and leaves them there for he’s afraid some neighbour would park their automobile in our front garden — he’s very territorial.
Oh, and when I take a peek at those rare times he lets his hair down – the music he makes and plays would make one wish hard he’s your butler too.
Lucky me, he’s MY butler. He’s got a wide propensity to patience and an even wider proclivity for learning. You won’t get his knickers in a twist! He’s an Englishman, after all.
Because, living in a castle is not easy. Living with a Queen is harder. Everything needs to be perfect, in order.