My gentil rederes,
Long tyme hath it ben sithen Ich have upon my blog yposted. Ywis, many a thinge hath been afoot chez Chaucer. Yif ye wisshe for some japes and games for the holidayes, ye maye turne the leef and skippe to the next poost, but for newes of yower Chaucer, rede on.
O gentils, ye looke nowe upon the wordes of an EX-clerk of the kinges werkes. Ich have that office y-quit, the which Ich have held for quite a while nowe. By seynte Martin, that job demaundid the verye clothes off my back! Whanne Ich was not consumed wyth the bisynesse of construccion and logistiques, Ich was beinge robbed and audited. Oftymes Ich knewe nat whethir yt was a robberie or an audit, so litel ys the distinction bitwene the exchequer and a derke forest ful of brigandes.
But farewell clerkeshep! Ich have rendered my notyce of thirty dayes unto My Lord the Kyng, and am nowe a free man. The drainage of the area bitwene Greenwich and Woolwich kan take the hekke care of ytself, by Jesu, and eek kan the manye and varyed requestes that a clerke of the werkes doth receyve dailye from My Lord the Kynge, includinge the creacioun of the moost elaborate allegoricale model raylroade yn Europe (“The Greate Traine of Being”) and eek a crystal palace cunninglye devysed ynto which no rumors or newes concerninge Justin de Beibre kan evir passe. To the laste requeste, Ich threwe my handes ynto the aire and seyde that Ich ne was no Dedalus nor no Pythagoras, and yif the kyng wanted me to do the impossible he sholde sende me to wizard school.
Soon Ich shal looke for a newe job, but for the nones Ich am enjoyinge sum tyme to followe my hobbyes. Ich have taken up ayein my grete avocation – the subtil and excellent sporte of parkour. Yt ys a thinge of muchel blessedness to scalen the walles of breweryes or merchauntes houses and to leape and jumpe about lyk unto a very agile smal deere or verye powerful rabbit. Sum tyme my Lord the Kyng doth joyne me for my practise of parkour. We have grete pleasure yn clymbynge to the toppe of steeples or gret toweres whereupon eagles do perche, and we beholde the gret beautee of the contree al aboute us, and thanne oft we dyve down into a conveniently placed cart ful of hay. This oon tyme we ran ynto an Italien yclept Ezio in ower cart, that was from Florence, and he and Ich talkid a litel bit about ower favourite partes of the Purgatorio.
And what wyth al thys leapinge and jumpinge (the which hath in deed caused me to lose some weight, thogh Ich am stille far from the state of my youthe), Ich have had but litel tyme for to bloggen.
But alwey Ich do wake earlye in the morninges in thys festive sesoun, and thus Ich thoghte Ich wolde with yow gentils share sum mirthe for the holidayes. Ye maye fynde yt in the next poost.
Wyth al of my greete love and affecioun, and grete and good wisshes for yow and yoweres,