October 2019

Lady P - October - The ultimate in terror

Greetings and salutations my ravishing readers!

I am honoured and thrilled to be the travel correspondent for the global phenomenon that is emmaheaven.com. My name is Lady Perdita Fitzwilliam Tudor-Croft, Perdy to friends, Ditsy D to family and Dirty Dita to my unsavoury exes, but you can all call me Lady P.

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Hello my ravishing readers,

This month’s assignment truly is ‘the ultimate in terror’. No, they’re not Daddy’s words on seeing my credit card bill, nor my opinion about a certain ginger prince’s life choices...

One is pausing her princely aspirations for the time being, and has set her eye on a king. Or to be more precise, Stephen King!

Those darling girls have somehow managed to surpass last year’s Hallowe’en’s terrifying tour of Transylvania, and I am currently in the US of A, and have been assigned the task of exploring the city of Ferndale, California, where the famous film Salem’s Lot was filmed.

This terrifying horror flick is an adaptation of the famous novel of the same name, written by Stephen King.

Having been reliably informed that Emma had embraced being transformed into Barlow The Master with such conviction, one was not about to let the side down. Therefore I threw myself into this assignment with great gusto! After all, I am the epitome of professionalism and no attention to detail would be missed.

photo 1In preparation, one did discuss one’s forthcoming adventure with a few hardcore horror-film chums as I didn’t want to be frightened out of my undergarments (Agent Provocateur for those of you with enquiring minds).

With a few days to go before heading to the airport, I was perched on my sofa, delightfully sandwiched between two strapping diehard, horror film fans. I was reminded of our finishing school’s chef favourite saying of “Two’s company, three’s a sandwich”. To this day I’m mystified by the snorts of derision and knowing looks whenever I ask cook for a sandwich. It must be some sort of industry ‘in joke’...

Anyway, time to reach for the popcorn and prepare for my journey with this cult classic film. Now one is not usually the type to be easily spooked. I mean, I’ve walked in on Daddy ‘in flagrante delicto’ enough times; Mummy for that matter too...However, I must confess that this film rendered one utterly terrified, and screaming like a small child. My childhood, in a nutshell...

The only way to continue my quest unscathed, was to watch the film from behind the safety of one’s sofa - thankfully my strapping chums were willing to keep me company. To say one was petrified would be an understatement, and I was already breathless before the movie had even started…

photo 2Thankfully a generous glug of Daddy’s best cognac calmed the nerves, allowing me to drift off to sleep that night before being rudely awakened by scary noises and imagining an all too vivid apparition of the Glick brothers, scraping at the window, begging to be let in. Turned out it was one of the stable boys, tapping at my window, wondering if I fancied going for a moonlit canter! Never has a nocturnal ride been so timely or welcomed...

An overreaction and febrile imagination? Maybe. But one might never be the same again!!! and this could be all the ammunition one needs to ensure Daddy refers me back to that rather dishy psychologist who’s helped me through many a traumatic event in my eventful life. His chaise longue is divine, and I find myself opening up to him in all sorts of ways I didn’t ever think possible...

Anyway, I digress...

When I initially heard the tales of how scary Salem’s Lot was for Emma as a child, I did think that she may have been ever so slightly overreacting. I now take that back. Unreservedly.

The Glick Brothers are deeply unhinging, and as for Barlow the vampire, well let’s just say one wouldn’t want to bump into him on a dark night; and I’ve encountered more than my (un)fair share of bald men with crooked yellow teeth in my time - this menacing monster is the stuff nightmares are made from. He makes Nosferatu seem like an Adonis!

photo 3Thus it was with some trepidation that I landed in the USA. Although some of my fears were assuaged upon seeing one’s limousine and driver who would accompany me for the duration of my visit. There was no way this ballsy gal was rocking up to The Marsden House on her lonesome ownsome! They do say that there is safety in numbers, so we quickly exchanged telephone numbers should I have to call him to my room for personal security reasons...

Imagine my disappointment when we turned up at The Marsden House to find that it was no longer there. My disappointment was further compounded when I later discovered from a very charming chap I met in the local bar, that it was actually just a film set built around an existing property.

However, I did get to walk up the driveway; what with the remote location and the tall trees eerily blowing in the wind the hairs on one’s body were standing on end. I have never experienced head to toe goosebumps whilst standing and fully-clothed...Oh dear, am I perhaps sharing a bit too much?!

Back to the house, or lack of (house) one should say. Undeterred, one pressed on with the assignment and was thrilled to track down Barlow & Straker Fine Antiques. Although it has been painted it looks exactly the same - cue selfie. One has to not only provide ‘proof of life’ but also prove to one’s hardcore horror chums that she has what it takes in hunting down scary vampires.

photo 4The afternoon continued with moi positioned outside Crockett Realty, Eva Miller’s boarding house, and the church where they collected the holy water to douse the vampires with. It’s a shame they didn’t have a little gift shop, they’re definitely missing a trick (or treat) there. I would have bought a few dozen bottles to ward off the blood suckers!

Now for the travelogue interlude...Ferndale is charming, quaint and picturesque with its Victorian storefronts. There’s also a charming museum to visit and beautiful scenery with the park and river.

One was highly tempted to have a picnic, however I quickly recalled a scene in the film and thought better of it. Anyway, there are lots of bars and restaurants to choose from, and lots of people around just in case of a vampire emergency.

I bought the most divine rosary beads in a darling little boutique which I shall add to my ever-growing jewellery collection. They look wonderful and one hasn’t removed them since; and I probably won’t, well not at least until the wheels go up on the plane. There’s nothing wrong with taking precautions. Something Daddy says he wishes he’d done during many of his (costly) exotic escapades. The only suit he wants is from Jermyn Street, not a(nother) paternity suit…

photo 5Anyway, I digress...

All in all one’s visit has been super. I can now join the Salem’s Lot fan club, especially with all my new found knowledge, plus my street cred with my chums should increase dramatically. I now have nothing but admiration for Emma, I mean how on earth she could look at herself after being transformed into The Master is beyond me. It takes tremendous guts and if I’m honest, I now have a teensy-weensy girl crush. Even more so when I found out that I’m not coming back to Blighty anytime soon as she’s sending me on to Hollywood, seeing as I’m almost there. To say I’m excited is putting it mildly - La La Land, here I come my darlings…

Toodlepip,

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***Note to #TeamHeaven gals***

I really don’t know whether I’m coming or going at the moment, what with the touring, time difference and jetlag.

I think I may have only just about finished blushing...

I committed *the most* dreadful social faux pas. I don’t know whether the Reverend Spooner would be spinning in his grave, or raising a glass to this Spoonerism of epic proportion?!

While chatting to my dishy driver as I was being ferried around, I asked him to clarify the different time zones in the States, as I didn’t want to call my Blighty chums at some ungodly hour once the clocks go back later this month.

In my exhausted, befuddled state, instead of saying “in the UK, towards the end of October, everyone’s clocks go back”, I ended up saying “in the UK, everyone’s c*cks go black”...

I’m pleased to report his health insurance is up to date, and he’s expected to make a full recovery.

Alas, the limo is a write off. Writing up the accident report and insurance claim form is proving to be a little challenging. I don’t know whether it’s mild concussion or jetlag leaving me at a loss for words, so any pearls of wisdom would be much appreciated.

Amazingly, the hospital beds here can comfortably accommodate two people, so I’m off for a lie down and get myself ready for when the clocks go back...

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