Nitpicking

Papa has written to say that 1) I must be careful not to climb trees with the children now that I am enceinte, 2) that I must eat dried figs every day for breakfast and 3) that there has been a plague of nits in the wiggery at the palace.
Many a good fellow in His Grace’s orchestra has been playing molto agitato as a result and at one point, a trombonist lost his wig in the fray. Her Strauss, the nitpicker, so it is rumoured, has become exceedingly rich.
I am quite pleased that I am removed to the damp air of Saint Gilgen where the hungry monster is deprived of a crowd. Today I walked along the water’s edge and the only beast I encountered was a wild boar in the distance on the other side of the lake. N.