Frankly, I am most disappointed. Standards are slipping and I have had to call on all my reserves as an employer and archetypal mistress of the house to retain a modicum of sanity.
In short, my silverware has never been so tarnished. The candelabra are overrun with fingerprints, giving the family heirlooms an aura of common bric-a-brac. Such slackness should have been avoided. Each member of the cleaning staff is given clear and concise instructions at the onset of their employ as to my requirements, cotton gloves to be worn whilst dusting being one of the most imperative.
Who knows what damage a young girl’s pasty digits have caused to my beloved father’s wine stopper? His demise is almost a blessing given that he is unable to witness such second rate values.
Revised instructions will be compiled and posted prominently in the servant quarters and in the meantime extra duties are paramount. I expect my silver salvers to be gleaming by the end of the week.
The debacle prompts me to examine the main guest quarters where the brass with mother of pearl inlay fountain pen holder has clearly received no more than a cursory wipe and now appears decidedly second rate. Thank heavens no influential visitors have required an overnight stay since my last in-depth inspection.
Of course, if I had not been lately so preoccupied with charity matters, I would surely have noticed the blemishes. I make a diary note to continue with regular, though unannounced, assessments until I am satisfied that buffing levels are of an acceptable standard.