Philippe Georges Marie Comte de Chagny (comte_philippe) wrote,
Philippe Georges Marie Comte de Chagny
comte_philippe

A weekend with a slow beginning.

As it was, I was forced to spend most of Saturday cooped up in my study looking over all of last month's expenses. Apparently my banker has no sense of money. He claims that I overdrew my own spending limits by several hundred francs, an utterly ridiculous notion. Therefore, I spent a great deal of time checking and double-checking my own notations to ensure that my calculations were correct. They were. Then, of course, it took the entire rest of the day to prove this fact to him. He was not pleased with having to see me outside of business hours, but I was not pleased about the whole matter in the first place. Finally he consented that I was correct. He has promised to finish sorting the whole thing out on Monday, but I'm sure I shall have to call on hime to ensure that it is done.

Today was somewhat better. I decided to go as far as Notre Dame for Mass this morning. Sometimes I just need a change of scene, and no one questions me if I go to Mass. I find the churches and cathedrals to be quite relaxing, quite peaceful. I always get a great deal of thinking done there.

I have just finished that Doyle book I was reading. His tales really are quite amusing, and this strange Holmes character is quite a fellow. I have often wished I could write. I can see in my mind's eye how it might be. I would write dozens of books and publish them under an assumed name. Then I would go out to the bookshops and wander around, listening to conversations and trying to find out what people thought of my writing. then, finally, years from now on my death-bed, I would allow my true identity to be known by all. Alas, however, I am not gifted with the eloquence needed to turn one into a writer.
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