Wednesday 5th March 1808

Dear Diary,
I am, as Ned would say, fagged out! I cannot remember the last time I felt so fatigued. I have scarce had the energy or inclination to finger my quill and so you have been neglected these past days. But I shall, briefly, bring you up to date on events since then.
After my encounter upon the Knob on Sunday I have resolved to capture the beast, not only for it's own sake but I shall present it to Father as a hunting dog, which, although it has not been successful of late, I believe it possesses far more experience than Father's poor Willie. I have been ensconced upon the Knob, disguised as a bush and attempting to entice my prey by waggling a sausage but to no avail. Yesterday I was almost discovered by the ladies of Cobbler's End as they sauntered along arm in arm. I was alerted of their approach by their giggles. They passed very close by and I overheard Miss Noring whispering "That's where I lost my cherry," as she pointed in the general direction of Ballbanger Abbey, with the cucumber she was brandishing. My, how these ladies love their fruit and vegetables!
Today, also, I avoided the embarrassment of being found among the undergrowth clutching my sausage. This time I was alerted, initially, by the familiar odour and, secondly, by the inane chatter. Yes! It was the fellow I had encountered on Sunday, wandering these pathways again. He talks aloud to himself! Can you believe it?
I waited until he was well out of earshot before laughing and muttering "How odd!", to myself.
All this sitting about doing little is most tiring and I am not used to it. However, I have persistence, or 'spunk' as Ned would say so will be in that bush with my sausage as long as it takes, and of course, weather permitting.