Of grapes and goiters.
Dear Torby and Sandra,
I am very sorry for not calling you directly, but I feel it is easier to express myself using the written word. So I hope you won't mind my emailing you to explain my behavior at your recent dinner party.
Are you familiar with a condition called "Alien Hand Syndrome?" It's a rare affliction that causes a person's hand to move independent of their thoughts or neurological commands. It is definitely not as amusing as it sounds. I have long suffered from this condition, although in recent months I have been able to control it with some ground-breaking puppet therapy.
Anyway, you may recall during the course of the evening The Duchess was being a bit coquettish with me. Truth be told, I wasn't particularly interested in her advances. The Duchess is a lovely woman, but her goiter is simply too cumbersome. However, my blasted Alien Hand (righty) saw fit to reach forth and caress the goiter. Certainly I feel terrible about this. I like to think of myself as a gentleman and I'd never go for the goiter so quickly.
I'm sure you remember what happened next. The shouting. The hounds. The filthy carpet. In the hullabaloo all I could think was, "GET OUT OF TORBY AND SANDRA'S!"
And, yes, as I made my escape, my darned Alien Hand may have reached out and grabbed the Iberian Remix Tempranillo sitting in your scullery.
It has been a long weekend for us all. I am sure I cannot apologize enough for all this terrible behavior. I hope we can meet again soon. And do pass along my regards to the Duchess. Incidentally, the Iberian Remix was delectable.