Monday 18th February 1808

Dear Diary,
I have spent much of the day deep in contemplation, especially of my navel. I have discovered it to be filled with all manner of dust and grit and thus I proceeded to root it out with a vengeance. I cannot conceive how it got there! I am always thorough with my ablutions!
I have remained locked in my chamber all day and even declined Mrs Crutchlow's scrambled eggs.
"I'll leave them by the door, Mr Austen" she offered.
When I peeped out, not half an hour later, as I was then feeling peckish, I discovered the plate empty. Father's Willie had got to Mrs Crutchlow's eggs before I did!