Sunday 23rd December 1807

Dear Diary,
I have had an early Christmas present sent by the happy and joyous fates who have smiled down on me today. I rose reluctantly and descended to face a day in close proximity to Mrs Norris and her rodent. By noon my face was aching through maintaining a fixed smile whenever she discovered my various hiding places. I am certain there is Blood Hound blood in her and I can only surmise as to how it got there. Whilst she was "entertaining" me, this afternoon, with her thrilling tales of ' Cushions I have embroidered', we espied Titty Clamp approaching up the drive, fetching the goose for the Christmas feast. Mrs Norris was keen to examine it at close quarters and so we ventured into the Scullery. Mrs Crutchlow bristled as Mrs Norris swept in and I noticed she tightened her grip on the cleaver she was brandishing. Mrs Norris approached the bird lying limply upon the table top and prodded it's breast and let out a disappointed tut! I cannot say whether it was the prod, the tut or the bark of the beast clutched to Mrs Norris's expansive breast that did it, but at that moment, to everyone's amazement, the bird came to life and began to flap frantically. Mrs Norris stepped back with a scream , flinging her arms wide and I saw the pug fly through the air and land in a large pot of onion soup upon the stove. The bird had regained it's feet and flew at Mrs Norris and latched onto her nose with it's beak. I have never heard such a commotion, Mrs Norris's screams, the yelps of her pug swimming in the pot, the goose and a variety of new and interesting words that emanated from Mrs Crutchlow's direction. At that moment the outside door opened and Ned stepped in upon the scene. He quickly jumped back out closely pursued by Mrs Norris, who had seen a means of escape, and the angry goose and then Mrs Crutchlow and her cleaver. How I have laughed since at the sight of Mrs Norris, skirts hitched up hobbling across the lawn being chased by the goose and Mrs Crutchlow with a cleaver. They passed poor Titty, returning home, who stood aghast at the sight. The evening has been dull in comparison, and Fanny, Jane and I have had to avoid each others gaze for fear of erupting into raucous tittering. Mrs Norris is retired to her room and Mother is comforting her. The Pug is abed also and as subdued as I have ever seen it. The goose is plucked and hanging in the larder. There was no soup at dinner.