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The Eighth of August in the Year of Our Lord, 1521 - 10 past 6 in the eve.

I be most excited this day as mine own dear sister Nan hath written to me from her involuntary exile at our family seat of Hever Castle in Kent to inquire of mine own well being and inform me as to how she be faring. 

Mary. Thou art the most heathonistic tramp that ever flopped on her back in any court of man or god. Hast thou no shame? If thou weren't mine own dear sister, I'd have ensured thy antics would have been exposed before the pope himself. However. As thou hast already exposed thyself for no less than 2 kings, I do nay doubt that the Pope is fully aware of thy solicitous longings for men of any sort of power or prestige. Mind you keep your filthy little paws of my Percy, you whore. Kissy Kissy, Thy Dear Nan

Needless to say her salutations were not lacking in the sharp barbs she be most talented in hurtling my way.  However, one must needs turn the other cheek and forgiver her of her misgivings for she do be young and not yet mature enough to know how to conduct herself in the written form, although she wouldst protest mightily at my criticisms.   Sigh.... little sisters.  One canst nay live with them, one canst nay kill them.

My dears, think ye not that I wish ill will upon my sister, Heaven for fend!  For she be my single closest friend in the universe and without her with me on this year's progress I do feel as if a part of me hath been left behind.  I shall find a way to continue on, no matter how difficult.  HA HA HA HA HA!!!  There I didst do it again!  I cracked mine own self up.

Ah dear friends, I must needs take my leave of thee for now.  Prithee, look to my pages in the near future for an answer to a query on culinary indulgences submitted by one Master (or Mistress  t'were nay  defined) RODRIQUEZ.  Until dearhearts I reamain faithfully thine!

Mary Boleyn

Days of Yore - Anon