Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV – More Reflections Upon Travel

Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV takes time from his immensely important life to proffer profound advice to those who still struggle on the aspirational slopes of authorhood…

Dear RWW,

San Francisco, that city by the bay. How the romance of it catches one by the throat, and how its skyline calls to one’s heart. One sits in a tiny bistro where a barista of exquisite coolness looks down her aristocratic nostrils at the assembled company and one sips hazelnut latte and masticates delicate macaroons…

It is one, Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV, author extraordinaire, handsome, debonair, world traveller and man of means.

One arrived in this fine city without a clue of what one was walking into, and now one is thanking the gods who favour the beautiful for their intervention in the homely shape of a gentleman from New York City. Said gentleman awaited one when one alighted at San Francisco International airport. Almost no sooner had one’s delicate tootsies touched American soil than this oddly misshapen gentleman shuffled over and introduced himself. He was, it appears, the attorney of one’s late grandfather and his mission in San Francisco was to guard the interests of yours truly at the hands of Messrs Schuster, Schuster, Abramowitz, Flugelhorn, and Metheringham. He was, he opined in a thick New Jersey accent, pretty sure one had been brought across the Atlantic to be royally stitched up.

One assumes the little man was right. Because he accompanied one like a dark shadow. He read documents, cross-examined one’s pater, abused the stringy tart roundly, and actually threatened to punch one of the Mister Schusters before writing a document which my parent reluctantly signed. It all went a little over one’s head.

However, the outcome seems to have been advantageous to one. Although one had, and still has, very little understanding of either the process or the precise outcome. It sufficeth one to know that one’s income would seem to be guaranteed and that one’s slithering alligator of a father no longer has the means to interfere with the moneys left in trust by one’s grandfather.

Ergo, one sits under the eye of a sneering barista and contemplates the Golden Gate Bridge.

Oh to be wealthy
In a San Francisco bar
Beautifully rich

A bientot.

Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV

You can find more of IVy’s profound advice in How To Start Writing A Book courtesy of E.M. Swift-Hook and Jane Jago.