Sire,
I am beside myself with glee. Your news doth come to me like a message from an angel. My courtyard is but a humble setting compared to your realm, but your pitcher will be nought but full. I will have 3 bushel-bags full of culinary delights for my Leige, and Gay Gary will find we have room up the rear for him to enjoy.
My cup runneth over. Hallelujah and welcome to the fellowship my good man.
I await with baited breath for the passing of 8 moons whence my regal foot shall be grounded on Bulgarian soil ( hopefully snow ) once more when hopefully our hearts shall beat as one.
I looketh forward to your presence, and the sharing of a foaming flagon of putrid ale.