No. No, I am most assuredly not feeling more sorted, which you would know if you had read my previous missive carefully, as I spoke almost frankly of a matter which I really ought not, no matter how hilarious Finnegan looked in the omniocular recording of him with --

Oh, dear. There it goes again.

Have you got any suggestions as to whose brooch I might surreptitiously swap for my own? This is quite intolerable. Reading Byron aloud seems to help, or at least to distract and occupy me, but it's just not practical in the long run, and I am running out of places in the Castle to hide.