Monday 11th February 1808

Dear Diary,
I love to wander this city! So many new sights and sounds and the odd unfamiliar smell which I confess are not always as welcome. Those far eastern fellows of last night were proclaiming a 'year of the rat' and I think I can quite well see why. The Misses said they encountered some on their return to their rooms last night. I cannot say I am surprised. There are some quarters of this city which are quite filthy and I am aghast at what people will discard in public places or indeed how they conduct themselves in the public view.
Today I went to the Tower where Miss Dixon is acquainted with a Beefeater. I asked the fellow why he was named so and he replied because he was remunerated in meat. I fancy he was a sausage lover if ever there was one. What a jolly fellow he was and he gave us an engaging tour of that historic place. We heard the banging in Mint St of the coin makers and then went on to the White Tower and the Chapel. I have seen where Anne Boleyn lost her head, even the axe which severed it, and where her body now lies, though I hasten to add it has been buried and was not just lying there rotting in her Tudor garments. I noticed some rather large black birds about the lawn and asked if Miss Dixon had ever plucked and stuffed one of those. She confessed she had not but was eager to attempt it. Her friend, the Beefeater, grabbed her arm before she laid hands on one and led us to the Traitors Gate. Such horrors he spoke of and the great suffering that has taken place within those walls, and that was just his life.
Later, upon the steps of St Pauls, we encountered some Bohemians who wanted to share, with us, some art. T'was nought but a crack in the floor but they were indeed enrapt by it. I cannot say that I do not appreciate a good crack when I see one but my first reaction is always to see it filled. I said nothing on the matter though and smiled appreciatively.
We took a carriage to Covent Garden and took tea and browsed amongst the stalls before heading off for dinner. The Misses were keen for me to try a new establishment they had heard of. I think it must have been Scottish fare for I believe the proprietors name to be McDonald. I am glad he did not show himself for I found his picture upon the wall frightening enough. I have seen red hair but I am afraid his beggared belief!
The evening was spent with the company I adore, yes Thespians! Such a delightful few hours of music and song, a love story set in Greece and the odd dancing queen!
The Misses have to return on the morrow and I am to my friend Mr McVay across the river. He is also a jolly fellow and is also a lover of meat............... and sausages and pies and cakes and biscuits and no doubt cheese.




Mr McVay, for it is he.