Diary Entry: A Most Delicate Crusade
My dear and devoted readership,
It is with great humility that I pen this account of yet another act of benevolence executed by my noble self. One must strive, after all, to set an example of philanthropy for the lesser mortals who wallow in their own mediocrity. This past week saw me embroiled in a campaign of the utmost importance—a crusade, if you will—against a most heinous practice known as Female Genital Mutilation (FGM). Pray, do not be alarmed at my addressing such a serious matter, for even the loftiest Countesses must sometimes soil their silken gloves with the dirt of humanity's worst afflictions.
It began, as many such endeavors do, with an invitation to a charity luncheon, where I was to sit at the head of the table (naturally) and regale the gathered philanthropists with my wit and wisdom. The event was held at a splendid manor, though, I must confess, the canapés were frightfully small. One had to consume at least five to feel even remotely sated, though I suppose hunger lends an air of gravitas to one’s oratory.
I addressed the room with my usual eloquence, weaving words into a tapestry of inspiration that left many a dowager dabbing their cheeks with lace-trimmed handkerchiefs. My speech, titled "Cut No More: A Noblewoman’s Call to Arms," was hailed as a triumph. I declared, with a dramatic sweep of my gloved hand, that the eradication of such barbarity required not only funds but the cultural enlightenment that only the likes of me could provide. My suggestion of organizing a series of workshops—complete with interpretive dance and possibly a cello accompaniment—was met with polite applause. (Some of the attendees are not yet ready for the full breadth of my genius, but they will learn.)
The next day, I took to the streets, flanked by my loyal retinue of Brighton’s finest eccentrics. My dear friend Pastor Po (whose knack for creating spectacles rivals even mine) insisted on carrying a banner that read, “The Countess Commands Compassion.” It was a touch verbose, but I allowed it for the sake of camaraderie. We distributed leaflets, mingled with the public, and even staged a short play outside the Pavilion Gardens. I played the role of "Lady Justice," naturally, draped in a toga and armed with a prop sword, which I wielded with such vigor that a tourist mistook me for a live statue and attempted to tip me a pound coin. I accepted graciously, for every penny counts in the fight for justice.
Later that evening, exhausted but victorious, I hosted a soirée in the grand salon of my palace. I declared it a “Night of Enlightenment,” where wine flowed as freely as my speeches. My staff had outdone themselves with the decorations, transforming the room into a vision of classical elegance (though I did have to remind the maid to dust the chandeliers more thoroughly—one must not allow standards to slip).
The evening concluded with a rousing toast to the cause, during which I likened myself to Joan of Arc, though without the unfortunate burning. "I shall not rest," I proclaimed, "until this scourge is but a dark chapter in the history books, and women everywhere may embrace their futures unscarred!" There was much clinking of glasses and murmurs of admiration, though I did catch Lady Penelope whispering to her companion that I had perhaps overdone it with the metaphors. Jealousy, dear reader, is the sincerest form of flattery.
As I write this, I am already planning my next endeavor—a charity gala with the theme "Cutting No More, Cutting No Corners." It will feature a fashion show of ethically sourced gowns (designed by me, of course), a silent auction, and a grand finale in which I shall perform an original aria composed in honor of the survivors. Truly, no one gives of themselves as selflessly as I.
And so, I retire to my chambers, satisfied that I have once again contributed to the betterment of humanity. The weight of my own brilliance is heavy indeed, but someone must bear it. Who better than I, the Countess of Brighton and Hackney, patroness of the oppressed, beacon of hope, and undisputed queen of charity events?
©2020 Sarnia de la Mare
