Sir Guy of Gisborne's Diary

Entry 5

My happiness cup no longer runneth over. In fact, it is empty, rolled off the table, hit the floor and smashed into smithereens.

Alas, I have again neglected you, dear diary of mine. And the reason is this:

My jest the other day about the sheriff making me re-grout the castle walls came to pass when I accidentally knocked over a bottle of his black nail polish. This is what I have been up to since my last entry (since the sheriff's last entry, too, as he has had the trots for the past few days and thankfully has not come to my bedchamber of an evening).

Needless to say, I did not single-handedly grout the walls, but instead secured a number of guards - with the usual threats (disembowelling, no underwear to be worn while on duty, food rationing, etc) - to do the job for me. Only when the sheriff did his rounds did I take hold of a trowel and pretend to grout.

Seventeen guards plunged to their deaths during this exercise (admittedly, two I pushed off the battlements because they made snarky remarks about the sound my leathers made when I walked, and one because he made a rude comment about my latest creation in leather-craft class (personally, I think Marian would wear a leather bra, complete with tassels).

Anyway, I digress. Back to my empty cup.

Robin of Locksley decided to play the hero again yesterday and handed himself in, spoiling the tongue-cutting fun that was going on in Locksley village. Worse, he snapped his bowstring in my face. I do not think he meant to strike me, but the string connected with my cheek and left a nasty weal and I found to my horror that I was completely out of foundation. As if this were not bad enough, Locksley - or Robin Hood as everyone is now calling him - escaped the dungeons, made a mockery of the castle security and is now on the loose again.

The sheriff is already miserable over his frequent visits to the garderobe, so this does not bode well for me. I just hope that I can catch Locksley soon.

For the moment, I am going to forget about the damned outlaw and concentrate on more immediate matters. Firstly, getting the grout out from under my fingernails and, secondly, visiting Marian and presenting her with the tasselled bra (hope I've got the cup size right; I know so little about these things).