Upstairs at the Lyndonville Freighthouse in Lydonville, Vermont you will find an electric train set-up and a 13-year-old retired border collie by the name of Duke. After many years of herding cattle, Duke now spends his days asleep outside his master's office.
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I do say old sport, I once had a smashing time with the Duke of Lydonville. Turns out we both wanted the same kipper at fortnum and mason's and instead of rowing about it he was a sporting chap and invited me for port and stilton at his club. then it was off to the ritz for a bottle of Bolly and then we pipped over to soho where he had some girl named clarice (who had legs to her ears). sometime in the night we must have decided to pop up to his house in dorset because the next thing i knew i woke up on the felt in a billiard table with pipe burns on my smoking jacket and Mrs Addison his cook making quite a racket about having to have another for breakfast when the costermonger had only brought enough oranges and eels for five people. i was positively green in the face but the Duke of Lydonville looked fresh as a daisy. his dear dotty aunt petunia nearly keeled over when i walked into the breakfast room so i must have my man send her some cream tea from fortnum's. bagged a few good pheaant that day, too. fine chap, that duke of lytonville.
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