St. Mallory's Forever!

35 XUAN: Headless chickens doesn't begin to describe it.

I'm not one for clichéd language, nor for decapitating poultry, but it truly is the best analogy for the present state of affairs in Marylebone House. If panicking were an Olympic sport, the British would take the gold, silver and bronze medals every year. Okay, every four years, before you start posting comments about the frequency of the Olympic Games.

And the best part? Even Helen has joined in. Miss Calm and Collected has succumbed to the hormone-fuelled pandemic, though in a somewhat more destructive manner than the others. Well, as far as I know, nobody else has tried to tear the door off its hinges.

Via my incredible powers of deduction (*snort*) I know it's related to her mum, Mrs. Stroud. But as Helen doesn't seem to want to talk about it, and I have no wish to have my limbs re-arranged in a painful fashion, I shall steer clear of that private quarrel.

Meanwhile Don Pedro and I have been making little headway with the Nils mystery. Helen seems to have lost interest since this latest upset with her mum. Every time we've tried to raise the subject, Helen has suddenly remembered she has somewhere she's supposed to be.

Or maybe Mrs. Stroud has got wind of our little detective club and has read Helen the riot act and banned her from further involvement. She is a new teacher here, after all, so understandably wouldn't want her daughter doing anything that might embarrass them both.

Yep, I think that's what must have happened. Poor Helen. It was her who put us on to this mystery in the first place, and now she's not allowed to be involved. Well, she needn't worry. Abby and the Don and I don't give up so easily. We're still on the case.

On the case and getting nowhere, that is.

Curse the vagueness of the internet. I'm even thinking of heading to the great labyrinth of the school library in the hope of finding something there, though heck knows, as they say here, I'll need more than a ball of magic thread and a sword to brave that jungle: most public libraries look like a landing bookshelf next to that place.

Or maybe it's all an optical illusion created by the towering heights of some of the bookshelves. You'd need a stepladder and a half to get to the top of some of them — let's hope the music section is on the bottom shelf.

Meanwhile, Abby has cunningly placed me on the lacrosse team. Her reluctance wasn't hard to miss, but it appears there has been some unexpected clash of dates that has stolen two players from the team. Something to do with the King.

No, hold on, Britain doesn't have a king. It has a queen, who is married, but for some reason the Queen's husband is not a king. Even though if the King marries, the wife automatically becomes queen.

Now that makes about as much sense as... well, as the English language itself. Hey, maybe that's why they call it the Queen's English!

Anyway, the Queen's husband is called the Duke of Edinburgh and that's all I know, so don't ask me anything more because I haven't a clue. I thought royal families went out with the Ark, but here in Britain the place is overrun with them. This Duke fellow even gives awards out in schools, it seems. If he comes here to award anybody I'll be sure ask him and let you know what that's all about.

Okay, back to the lacrosse match. The news was accompanied by a stern warning from Abby — if the players of the opposing team do not have the same number of limbs when we finish as they did when we started, I'm in trouble, and I'm reimbursing the parents.

Honestly, I sometimes think Abby expects me to be a complete savage! I'd only take a finger or two. And then give it back. Maybe.

I can't wait to tell Helen that she's been picked for goalie.

Or, rather, I can't wait until Abby tells her. I'll just eavesdrop and laugh at the expression on Helen's face. Then clean up the mess afterwards.

I will do my best to keep posting in the days ahead — but right now I'd best get going. I was supposed to be at my ESL lesson ten minutes ago. I'd finally convinced them I didn't need someone to come and show me the way every time, and now I've gone and blown it by being late. They'll think I've got lost and will be sending out search parties and alerting the coastguard.