8 February, in the year of our Lord 2021
A little while after dinner, set my magick window on the table in my dining room, with the purpose of an interview on the Line, using Micro Soft-teams, with two persons, who were Tracey and Declan.
‘Lovely to meet you. Now, this is all very informal and shouldn’t take long at all,’ says Tracey brightly. ‘How are you getting on with the training sessions?’
‘Well — ’ start I.
‘Excellent!’ she beams, not awaiting the entirity of my response, which was otherwise to have been: ‘Well, I could not comprehend your letter, the Links did not work, I had to request an en-rolement key, and the System will not tick all the boxes for the modules I have compleated — but apart from that…’
‘Just a couple of things we do need,’ continues she, squinting at her check list, ‘which are Proofs of your identitie. These are of the utmost importance.’
‘This is the Agreement to supply piped water to my premises,’ say I, waving the relevant bill before the magick screen, ‘which has my name and address clearly — ’
‘That will do nicely,’ says she glancing momentarylie at it and ticking a box. ‘I’m sure you appreciate that the processe must be water tight and rigorous, Mr. Samuels. Do you by any chance have photo ID or equivalent?’
‘I have this,’ say I, with some effort manhandling on to the table the famous framed portrait of me by Mr. Hayls, the paynter, in which I wear my fine Indian silk gown and hold the music I wrote to a lyric from Mr. Davenant’s Siege of Rhodes.
‘Oh, I say!’ says Tracey, saying it. ‘I bet that looks lovely on your wall. Normally we just get a driving licence, though a woman called Windsor last week tried to pass off a letter with a stamp on it.’ She consults her list. ‘Have you an up to date DBS certifycate?’
‘The one I have is ten years old,’ say I, ‘but I can tell you that I was awarded three points for driving my coach very fast down a hill in October.’
‘Oh, excellent!’ says she. ‘That will come in handy if you are running late. Now, I think that’s everything, is it, Declan?’
‘I think so,’ says he, regarding me affably. ‘Unless you have any questions?’
‘Is Mrs. Cadwallader detained?’ ask I, wondering why she is not there.
‘She may be,’ says Declan. ‘She hath made out that she is with a cousen in Prestatyn when in fact she hath gone for a mini-break to the Black Sea.’
‘I see,’ say I. ‘And when do you think she might return to work?’
‘2031. The Crymea is on the red list.’
‘We’ll be in touch,’ says Tracey.