A fayre and gentle morning to ye, noble wayfarers!
I, but a humble messenger who has just risen from a most warm and comfortable sleep, do hereby decree unto thee that thou needst to check thy clocks and timepieces and calendars, for, according to the whims of our goode and gracious Lord Computerclock, today hath been decreed to be January the 1st in the year 1601.
Yea, verily, do I say! I speak naught but the truth to thee, for though my humble and most delusioned mind thought it to be December the 4th in the year 2005, I am but a simple womyn and know very littel of the worlde around me. I do knowe that Queen Elizabeth rules England, that the plague is an ever-constant fright, and that there is to be a most extraordynarie hanging at the tryple gallows of Tyburn later this week. Perhaps I can convince my lord husbynd to take our family to see it if I am dutyful and mindful around the house, though I fear that he may well be too busy as the bee in summer. My lord husbynd is a grand artist and hath much work to do, after all! That been said, I shall now take my leave of thee for therre is much worke to do in the kitchen if I am to feed anyone any time soone. (That and I wish to protect myself from the horrible tantrumous cries of the banshee child that wails through the wall next door and stomps up and down the stayrcase there.)
Fare thee well!
