A Knight's Tale...

Gracious Readers;

Finally, I have been unearthed and am currently standing in the reception area of a beautiful building.  From what I have heard so far, from the people around me, I am in Chipman Hill Suites.  I’ve not heard of that city before, but I’m sure I will learn more the longer I am here.   

A very nice gentleman has just brushed some dust off my visor, for which I am very grateful - it has been obscuring my vision for years. I heard someone call him ‘’Ken’’.  I wonder if that is short for Kenneth?  One of the Lords in a nearby county to where I used to live was called Kenneth.  Such a shame he fell to the plague.  Personally, I blame it on the new chamber maid, as I’m sure she showed signs of the sickness on her return from the city.   

Anyway, I digress.  Where was I?  Ah yes, I have been unearthed.  For years I was in a wooden crate, with only the rustle of distant leaves and the creaking of beams to keep me company.  Occasionally, I would hear someone close by, and see a small crack of light between the gaps in the crate in which I had been imprisoned for so long.  On occasion, I would hear ‘’Yes, this is the one.  Excellent vintage and it will go perfectly with the roast venison. The lady will love this.’’    Could he possibly be talking about... ?  No, of course not.  I have dreamed of her for so long, but I fear it will remain only a dream.  If only...

I can’t recall how much time has passed, but it has been long.  I feel I have travelled the length and breadth of the world for so long, I have often wondered if I had fallen off it. That is, until yesterday.  Yesterday.  Oh what a wonderful day that was.  Having resigned myself to my non-existence, I was surprised to find myself surrounded by people!  Yes, real people; and the conversation appeared to be directed at me.  They weren’t talking to me though, they were talking about me.  ‘’I really have no idea.  It was here when we bought the house and I’ve never paid any particular interest to it. I had no idea what was inside the box and certainly didn’t expect something like this.  It’s rather spectacular. It does need a bit of a clean though.’’   I hardly consider myself an ''It''.  I do have feelings, you know.  But then followed the polishing!  Oh! How glorious it was to be outside that crate and have countless years of dust and grime rubbed from me in a massage fit for the King!  The very pleasing words when the task was completed were something I had not heard in a long time ‘’What a fine figure he is’’, ‘’What a handsome object!’’  Object? Object!  I am not an object, my fair lady, I am a person.  Or at least that is what I used to be. I often used to be told how handsome I was.  I used to be a true favourite amongst the ladies.