Intrepid Optimist

Intrepid Optimist is the place where I can share my stories; fact, fiction and thoughts from the past and present. It’s Written by myself for people who believe adventure knows no age

Room at the Top Table

I am assuming that most of you, like myself, would like to join the ranks of  nobility. I long to be an aristocrat and I am not ashamed of the fact being known. I am determined to become a member of that  exclusive British fraternity. My family have been around for at least three hundred years and if that is not a good ground for qualification, what is?

As there is no such thing as a Little Lord Fourtenroy, do-it-yourself kit, it is up to me to formulate my own background. This may be difficult as my Welsh, quarrymen ancestors may be considered of implausible aristocratic lineage. Neither would our two bedroom, grey, slate roofed cottage with outside toilet near Blaenau Ffestiniog, be confused for a country seat.

However, I did have a recent near relation in business,  albeit a butcher’s shop in Carnarvon and with a little decoration, I can portray this long dead uncle as having been something in the City. In certain extenuating circumstances I believe being in business is acceptable to the  Noblesse Oblige, especially so when they are in need of cash to repair a two hundred and fifty year old  roof or renew the eleven lavatories of a dilapidated manor house.

Not being one to be deterred by facts, I will simplify a make-over of my past family history. Having long, long, gone family member who saw military service in India, I have the notion of passing uncle Llewellyn off as a brigadier, although I doubt he, having been obliged to volunteer or go to jail for sheep stealing, attained any rank other than that of private.

Obviously I shall have to be careful with my articulation. My hard vowels must go. No more Liverpudlian, from now on I will be going aapstairs to take a baath, and I shall have to drop my recurrent y’what for I beg your pardon and call Ethel my missis, daaarling. The question of dress is easier; with a celebrity platinum credit card, the kind I believe is given to royalty, Harrods or Brook Brothers will have all the over-priced gear I will require.
Being a regular Daily Mail reader, I am well acquainted with the food I hope to be tucking into. There will be fish kedgeree, kippers, Florentine eggs and or kidneys for breakfast and  Mulligatawny soup, steak pudding and roly poly for lunch. Such dishes! Already, for a man weaned on fish and chips, my mouth waters.
As the blue bloods rarely pay on time, (this is the part I particularly like) I too will no longer pay cash but flourishingly sign my bills with  the silver pen with an elephant on the end; a present from  aunt Hilda on her recent return from budget trip to India.
I cannot wait to join their exclusive circle. I tell you those toffs live well. Free entrance to the cinema, restaurants, pubs and bingo or in their front parlours where they lounge around all day and listen to the likes of Chopin and that bearded guy, Ripyourcorsetsoff,
Anyhows, I going to give it a try. Stay in touch and I will let you know when as they say I am in.


About bbryanthomas

Not so young man about town who, having witnessed and enjoyed life, is presently having fun, writing about those by-gone times and life in general.

13 comments on “Room at the Top Table

  1. Bridgesburning Chris
    August 22, 2017

    Oh dear it has just occurred to me that I am not an aristocrat, or royalty, but since birth, for a long time considered myself so. The reality of it all is best ignored. Go and Be. You know what they say. Fake it til you Make it. I am sure it will just happen soon.

    Liked by 1 person

    • bbryanthomas
      August 23, 2017

      I hope not, as I was just joking with the piece and the humour fell flat. I’ll have to do better next time.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Bridgesburning Chris
        August 23, 2017

        You were perfect. I laughed and attempted a sarcastic remark. Alas..its the old, ‘it’s not you it’s me’ thing

        Liked by 1 person

      • bbryanthomas
        August 23, 2017

        OK but ‘It’s not you it’s me’ and I’ll feel better knowing that.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Christine Goodnough
    August 22, 2017

    Good luck to you! I’ll be waiting to hear how you make out. Although it might have been easier if you’d become a rock star and opted for knighthood. Look at Sir Paul and Sir Ringo — they eat well. 😉

    I could make a small claim, too, if there happens to be a “Small Claims Court” for the long-lost. 🙂 My ancestors came from Barnbarroch Castle in Gallowayshire — and the originator of the English branch came over from Normandy with the Conqueror. I ought to at least get a manor, wouldn’t you think?

    Alas! Gr-gr-gr-gandf. David Vance, not inheriting the pounds and pence, married 13-year-old Agnes Jones, died young, and our branch kind of went down hill from there. The clan gave up on Scotland and came to Ontario around 1835 — the only thing we’ve retained is our love of a good story or epic poem.

    I enjoy both history and genealogy, so I did some digging a dozen years back and hit a nice pile of info. You may have to dig pretty deep into the quarry to discover some real nob ancestor, back before the Anglo-Saxons came and pushed everybody else over. Or maybe discover a Viking warrior chief among the grands?


    • bbryanthomas
      August 23, 2017

      300 hundred years family history is not difficult to find. My father died 6 months after I was born (1936). He married later and was born in 1873, HIis father born in 1790. Already there’s 200 yrs. The other 100 I just used for my story. Incidently, I was unable to get over to the readers the humour I intended. My mistake, I shouldn’t have rushed into print.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Christine Goodnough
        August 23, 2017

        Oh, I knew you were just being humorous, so don’t worry. And so was I. Even though our family might have fancy history centuries ago, our branch has not at all done well. But one always likes to brag up the toffs in the clan. 🙂

        So your father was 63 when you were born. Wow! My husband’s dad didn’t marry until he was 49 and Bob, their only child, was born when dad was 50. It was like, “instant crotchety grandpa.” Not at all a warm relationship.

        Liked by 1 person

      • bbryanthomas
        August 23, 2017

        More like, trying to be humorous. Hoe does one get iinto Fast Friday Fiction. I don’t think I joined?


      • Christine Goodnough
        August 23, 2017

        You don’t have to join anything, but go to Rochelle’s blog. she posts the writing prompt and I see it’s up already. When you want to post your own, or just read what others have written, you click on the blue frog. That’s our “portal” into InLinkz.

        For myself, I’ve subscribed to Rochelle’s blog, so the notice of her newest post comes to my In-box. Anyway, here’s the link for this week’s prompt:


  3. Christine Goodnough
    August 23, 2017

    P.S.: If you do today’s FF, don’t forget to download the picture prompt and add a caption with the copyright notice.

    Liked by 1 person

    • bbryanthomas
      August 23, 2017

      Sorry, I don’t appear to have learned anything. How do I get into the FF page? I thought I was?


      • Christine Goodnough
        August 23, 2017

        Click on the Link above that I sent, then scroll down Rochelle’s blog until you see the blue frog. This will be a small bright blue tab on the left hand side right under the photo prompt of the night-time tent.

        When you click on that frog, it will take you to the bloggers’ various responses to the prompt. You can click on any of the bloggers’ pictures/icons, and when you want to add your own, you go to the very bottom and click on that blue frog.


      • bbryanthomas
        August 24, 2017

        Christine, I can’t find the link you sent me for FFF


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This entry was posted on August 22, 2017 by in Non-fiction, Short story, Stories and tagged , , , .
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