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.

Ahoy there my darling readers. Or should that be ‘ahoy there me hearties’?!

Are you ready to go on a little treasure hunt? Chests - sunken or otherwise - are entirely optional, so to speak!

Pull up a pew, strap in and buckle up my lovelies as I, Buccaneer Dita, take you on a journey,  back in time as we unravel the legend that is Captain Fizzy, aka great-great-great-grandfather (hereafter known as ‘4G’), Captain Fitzwillam Tudor-Croft, and the treasures he brought back from the island of Montserrat.

Move over Captain Jack Sparrow, there’s a new, nay vintage, pirate in town! Although having seen 4G’s photo, he’s not in quite the same league as the gorgeous Johnny Depp, but apparently was just as quirky/bonkers as the drop dead gorgeous, melt your panties actor/singer.

On a slight tangent, could JD quite possibly be one’s next romantic conquest? Hmmm, the jury is still out on whether Mr Depp still has what it takes in the bedroom department, not to mention the cash reserves required to keep this gal in the life she has become accustomed to…

Whoa steady on there! What on earth am I bloody thinking? That’s the old, shallow Dita talking, so let’s ignore that gold digger and have no more talk of that nonsense, or maybe we should have her walk the plank?!

That’s enough digressions for now darlings, and one’s not even partaken the rum or any other tinctures. Are you ready to dive into the deep end?

Legend has it that Captain Fizzy got a lot more than he bargained for when he was shipwrecked off Montserrat. To cut a long story short - because who has the time these days to go into all the itty bitty details? - he was rescued by a fair maiden, whereupon he lost his dignity, all sense of reality and his heart to boot!

Once the lusty tropical heat’s temptations had abated, boredom soon set in, so he went about exploring his surroundings, where he happened upon a hidden cave containing some rather fabulous gemstones, which ended up being ‘liberated’ and stowed aboard the next passing seaworthy boat he commandeered. And the boat wasn’t the only thing he commandeered from the tropics. The randy bugger took ownership of that fair maiden by marrying her in a native ceremony, and together they sailed back to Blighty with the Captain’s spoils and ill-gotten gains.

They used some of those sparkly spoils to purchase our ancestral home, stashing the rest of their loot in a safe place - alas one is sad to relay that over time the whereabouts of this tantalising treasure had been misplaced, lost in the mists of time.

Well, that is until Mummy stumbled upon a treasure map, hidden deep inside a book in the library - although quite what Mummy was doing with a rare witchcraft book, written in blood, bound in animal skin, and adorned with bones of indeterminate origin is beyond me! Perhaps she was looking for a happiness spell to cast upon Daddy, such are her eclectic pursuits these days. Good luck I say, with making that cantankerous old git laugh. The only time he smiles these days is either when his financial advisor phones with good news or when Mummy goes on yet another one of her gal-pal breaks with Sapphic Sojourns and sends him pics! Tho quite why they have to be password protected is a mystery to me.

Anyway, I digress…

Back to the treasure map and suffice to say, one has now taken possession of the delicate scroll and has had it analysed by an expert, who happens to be a friend of a friend who works at the British Museum no less! And a genuine expert at that - not like some of those self-appointed, thirsty, washed-up Haz beens (#mybad) who shall not be named…

Anyway, once I’d shipped Mummy and Daddy off to Champagne for a cheeky weekend at the Chateau, courtesy of cousin Pierre, it was time to see if X really did mark the spot.

Unfortunately, after an obscene amount of the fizzy stuff was consumed, one’s glossy posse who’d been roped in to help, thought I was referring to Elon’s X. Before I could stop them, they’d opened up the app, fell head first down the toxic slurry of a rabbit hole it’s become, where they stayed, endlessly doom scrolling for the next few hours where we ‘analysed’ every aspect of THE latest scandal to hit our social circle. Unfortunately - or maybe that should be thankfully - Daddy’s lawyers have hit me with a(nother) gagging order due to the threat of imminent legal action, so I couldn’t possibly divulge any secrets, well not without being dragged through the courts. Again!

But all I can/will say is, those red carpet walks and charity visits a certain attention-seeker keeps doing, are not all they appear to be #Gatecrasher. Whoops, I’ve probably said far too much already…

As you can imagine my darling readers, what with the various social scandals monopolising our entire weekend, unfortunately there was no treasure to be hunted, let alone discovered. Good job none of us are thirsty gold diggers, eh? #OneCantPossiblyNameAnyNames

So for now, the map has been stashed away, and hidden once more to make sure certain people won’t be able to pillage our family treasure troves, if indeed there are any left to be pillaged at all. It’s in a safe place that only I know about and have access to - so when the time is right, one can take up the quest of Captain Fizzy’s bounty once more, and hopefully unfettered by a sozzled glossy posse! All one needs is a fearless soul who can join me “once more unto the breach”. But until that time…

X most certainly marks the spot…As does G…

Shiver me quivering timbers me hearties. One’s got planks to walk. There are buckles to be swashed. And swords to sharpen, so to speak. So on those high/low notes, one must dash.

People to see and hot goss to catch up on…

Toodles my darlings!