Thursday 3rd January 1808

Dear Diary,
This morning I took Python, my horse( I dare not tell you why he is named so), to the Blacksmith's in Cobbler's Bottom as he needed a new shoe. What a handsome fellow he is, with his tousled blonde hair and glistening chest. (I mean the Blacksmith, not Python.) How I gripped and fingered my crop as he set to work. Even Python showed some interest but I am sure the Blacksmith is used to it. Returning home I almost trampled Old Colette Fairfax as she hobbled across the road. She may be old and frail but her voice carries a long way when she is hurling insults. This afternoon, I watched as Ned and Mrs Crutchlow took down the festive frippery and I was of great help in pointing out their errors, much as I am able to do when they are engaged in other domestic chores that are beneath me. I am sure they are grateful of my interest. The rest of the day was much more relaxing for me. I noticed a few flurries of snow at one point and had the wherewithal to get Ned to fetch more logs just in case. All was quiet this evening, until suddenly Father's Willie leapt upright and there was a great banging upon the front door. For a moment I thought it was Old Colette Fairfax, who had hobbled all the way here to offer further vituperation and I busied my self looking for lost objects behind the chaise longue. However, it was the Parson, all breathless and sweating. What a fuss he made. It seems that he is adamant he has seen a wolf down in the woods. I remember a similar incident not so long ago when he thought he was being stalked by a rampant badger and that led only to tragedy. Mrs Crutchlow led him into the scullery to find something to give him comfort. When I entered a short while later for some hot milk, whatever she had given him for comfort he must have lost down her ample cleavage, for that is where he appeared to be looking.