Dear Diary,I have been skulking and deceiving but all for the good of others. Yesterday I went about the business of the day as normal but after dinner in the evening, I slipped out into the dusk and retrieved the bag of Chapel silver from the bushes where Woody presented it to me. I was creeping around the back of the Grange when I bumped into Fanny."What is afoot?" She demanded."Don't ask," I replied, "for I cannot tell. Just know that all I do is for good.""Be careful," she whispered after me as I set off down the lane. As I approached the Chapel I noticed a glow from within. I slipped in and noticed the candles upon the altar aflame. I ducked behind a pew as the Parson emerged from the vestry and busied himself behind his pulpit. After a few moments he returned to the vestry and I crept from hiding and moved towards the front of the Chapel. However the Parson rememerged and I had to crouch behind a pillar. The Parson extinguished the candles and moved down the aisle and went out into the night, closing the door behind him. I was alone in the dark and the silence. If there had been no moon I would have bruised my legs more than I did as made my way to the altar. I replaced the silver in it's rightful places and, feeling pleased with the relative ease of my clandestine actions, returned to door. I have no doubt that any other person would have skipped off home happily full of delight at the righting of a wrong, but I am Wayne Austen and the magpies despise me and nought in my life is so simple.I grasped the knob, turned it and pulled, but nothing happened. I repeated my actions far too many times for a normally sane person before I accepted that it was indeed locked and that I was entombed in that Holy place for the night. It is never locked but then it had never been robbed afore. I searched for other exits but finding none sank onto a pew. For all the dark and the silence, I felt strangely at ease and resigned myself to my fate.I did not sleep well but must have for some little time as I was awakened this morn by the door swinging open and the sound of purposeful footsteps upon the stone floor. Mrs Bunder swept past carrying a bundle of greenery and flowers for decoration. She did not see me and I was able to slip out unnoticed and return to the Grange. I decided upon a plausible story to explain my absence but unfortunately found it had been explained by another. It seems Fanny took it upon herself to invent a secret rendezvous with Miss Quirrel, the school teacher in Cobbler's Bottom.If Ned winks at me one more time I fear I may have need of his chopper!
Dear Diary,A day of unwanted presentations. A neatly wrapped package addressed to Mr W Austen Esq was waiting for me upon the breakfast table when I went down. I wish now I had chosen to enjoy the fat sausage that Ned laid before me afore I opened the package, but no, my curiosity as to the contents overwhelmed my need for sustenance. I ripped off the wrapping to find a small wooden box, about the size of a shoe, with a tightly fitting lid. With little hesitation I prised off the lid and peered inside and was horrified at what I found. I gasped loudly in shock and the box slipped from my fingers, fell to the table and out tumbled the dead rat within. Fanny screamed loudly and leapt from her seat. She had been gently stroking her pussy and it's hairs were now on end as Fanny gripped it tightly in horror. Mother slumped into her porridge and had to be lifted out by Titty. Father came bursting in followed by Jane, wearing a pillowcase on her head, as a makeshift wimple. We all stood and stared at the unfortunate creature as it lay between the toast and honey. Suddenly, Father's Todger sprang up onto the table, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. He snapped up my sausage in one gulp then seized the rat in his mouth and bounded out of the parlour. There was a small card in the box which was inscribed " A rat for a rat."Later, I was in the garden, sat upon Ned's erection, contemplating the mornings events when I heard a hissing sound from across the garden and noticed a hand beckoning me from out of a bush. I wandered over to find a breathless Woody;"'Ere I gotta give ya dis" and he indicated his bulging sack. He opened it and something glistened in the sunlight. It was the silver from the Chapel. I gasped for a second time." Da littl' un did it," he sighed."Diddy?" I asked."Yeh, he did, but don' worry he knows he shouldna and we kicked his ass fer it!"" I am sure he is repentent," I replied "but I fail to see why you should take it out on his donkey."Woody, just looked at me for a moment in puzzlement then said:" Right, we're off. We ain't hangin round ere to be 'ung up by da nuts!" He smiled his crooked smile. "Ah'll be seeing ya Wayne," and he held out a stained hand. I gasped it firmly and shook it heartily and then he disappeared into the shrubbery.Thus on a day when valubles that were lost were found, I lost something I valued. I only hope not forever. And somewhere out there is someone who does not hold me in the esteem to which I am accustomed or is confusing me with another. I have wronged no one have I?Oh, and it was my birthday.
Dear Diary,An unfortunate day made worse by miserable weather. It appears that sometime in the night the Chapel was divested of it's silver or 'wobbed!' as Mr Sprout described it. There was widespread shock in the congregation and much whispering about who could have carried out the deed and most seemed to be of one mind. I hope the accusations are untrue. Back at the Grange dinner was even more muted when after having waited for Jane to appear for some ten minutes Titty entered with the news that; "Miss Austen regrets she will not be dining with the family tonight." It seems that she received some unwelcome news today. By all accounts there is a far more accomplished novel writer who also goes by the name of Jane Austen in Hampshire. I sense she is quite upset having heard a number of objects being flung about her room earlier in the day. She is now determined to become a Nun and is talking of entering Ballbanger Abbey. I fear that if she does, indeed, enter cloisters she will have to be careful of her diction after some of the vocabulary I have heard her utter today.
Dear Diary,Today has been most productive. Whilst strolling in the garden I encountered Ned, sat upon the bench outside his shed, contemplating the ground in front of him and swinging a small yet weighty sack between his open legs. I enquired as to what his intentions were and he offered up the dangling sack for my perusal. "Can you guess?" he teased.Through it's wrinkled covering I could feel small, hard yet generally egg shaped objects rolling around between my hesitant fingers."Do you fancy some Pentland Javelin?" he winked. Indeed I did! I removed my frock coat and rolled up my sleeves.I began to dig some of the furrows with him but then needed to return indoors for an important task which I cannot recall at this particular moment. When I returned he was stripped to the waist and leaning on his shovel and all the furrows were dug. How magnificent is the male form when glistening in the sunlight. It was most distracting but we had to get on. He lined the furrows with compost, which did nothing for my olfactory organs, whilst I delicately placed the seed potatoes at regular intervals along them; the furrows, not my olfactory organs. Finally we covered them over and stood to admire our handywork. Why people talk of 'greenfingers' is beyond me? 'Brownfingers' is a far more accurate term!
Dear Diary,He may know how to handle a chopper but I was able to demonstrate my skill upon the Parson's organ to my friend Woody today. He accompanied me to the Chapel and pumped heartily whilst I deftly transformed the wind he produced into glorious music. He has a crooked and lovely smile, even when dripping in perspiration.
Dear Diary,How strangely coincidental that upon St George's day we should hear news from a dragon! A missive arrived this morn from Mrs Norris. It bore the news that Miss Honey Pott has been injured in a riding accident.It seems whilst out riding, her horse was startled, deliberately, by an unknown attacker and she was thrown to the ground. I fail to see why Miss Pott could engender such bad feeling towards herself and am sure that all was not as dramatic as portrayed in the note.I waited to be called upon by Woody but when he had not arrived by late afternoon, went out for my constitution. I had not been wandering the woodland paths for long when I was startled, as he leapt out from behind a tree wielding his chopper. He said he had been too busy to call but I sensed some reluctance to come to the Grange in person. He wanted to discuss our strange encounter on Saturday. I believe it has formed a bond between us so much so he allowed me to handle his chopper. I had to grasp it with both hands and was amazed at how weighty it was. He showed me how he swings it and I made an attempt as well but I am nowhere near as adept at handling it as he. Clearly he must use it everyday.Back at the Grange I sought out Ned and said I had need of his chopper. He blanched for a moment and stuttered as if he misunderstood, but when I mimed the movements with my hand he smiled in relief and even showed me his skill with wood.
Dear Diary,I was wandering the woods and pondering the abysmal floral gift of yesterday and what it might mean when I encountered the twins, Canny and Cuddy Dicker returning from Cobbler's Bottom bearing necessities. I was somewhat coy as I had only encountered them, previously, when they were not quite so clothed."Our brother would like a word wid you," said Cuddy."Woody?" I enquired."Yes, he would," said Canny."He went wood collectin' wid the littl' un," continued Cuddy."Diddy?" I asked."Yes, he did," said Canny."But, we can't stop ter chat wid ya, cus Pa will be wantin' is tea," went on Cuddy."Willy?" I said, now amused."Yes, he will," said Canny."Who will speak to him?" I asked."He will, " said Canny."Cuddy?" I bit my lip in anticipation." Yes, he could, " he replied." Tell him to come to the Grange. " I smiled."Can he?" asked Cuddy."No, Woody." I replied.
Dear Diary,I awoke this morning feeling bolder than I have in recent weeks. I know not why. Perhaps the promise of spring has pervaded my being and there is hope of happiness to come. I declined the mushroom omlette and partook of a warm buttered muffin with my tea. On my way out to take air I encountered a brazen fellow wandering up the lane with a bunch of withered tulips. He asked if he was approaching Thrushcock Grange and I affirmed he was. He said he was to deliver the flowers there forthwith. I asked who had sent him and he said he had no knowledge of the sender and that he was just hired for the presentation. I said that I would deliver them myself if he would be so kind as to hand them over. I had no intention of handing one of my sisters a bouquet of dead flowers. Imagine their consternation! The fellow happily agreed, presented me with the tulips and turned away."Pray tell, to whom should I deliver them?" I called after him." Mr Austen," he replied, "Mr Wayne Austen."
Dear Diary,I have remained abed for much of the day awaiting, with certainty, the arrival of the fever that must, surely, come following my hallucination upon the Knob yesterday, but this evening I found myself quite well and ventured down for some jugged hare. After the meal I assisted Mrs Crutchlow with the removal of the crockery to the scullery only to seek a moment to ask if she had ever heard of or had lunch on the Zeta Boo. She raised an eyebrow and gazed upon me with such a look of concern, then shook her head slowly. "No matter," I breezed, "I doubt they jug a hare as well as you."
Dear Diary,I know not with what mushrooms Mrs Crutchlow embellished my omelette at breakfast but it has been the oddest of days. I ventured up the Knob as you well know I am wont to do and was gazing out across the verdent vista before me and enjoying the solitude when the melodious chorus of birdsong was drowned out by the strangest of sounds. I can only liken it to the rushing of a wind, too and fro conjoined with the sound of waves upon a beach. I could not determine from which direction it came for it seemed to be all about me but finally turned to discover a small blue shed had been erected where no shed had been just moments before. As I stood there, bewildered, the shed door opened and out stepped a gentleman with long auburn hair. "O'right," he laughed, " bet that gave you the willies!"I smiled weakly. The red haired gentleman was in reality a woman, but wearing breeches! Then out stepped another fellow, who looked in need of a good meal but who had the most charming of smiles. He stepped forward and effusively shook my hand and said "Hello, I am the Doctor and this is Donna. Look, Donna did I not tell you that this was a magnificent view?" He moved on past me and opened his arms as if attempting to gather the view into his embrace. "I'm sorry for our rude entrance," he continued " but we've just had a bit of a stressful time helping some Ood and needed to unwind a bit and Donna here is a city girl and I like to expand her horizons. You come here often?"I nodded feebly. "What? Cat gotcha tongue?" said Donna as she stepped forward and slapped my back in a manner not unlike Malcolm Tent. "Oh, innit luvverly," she gushed. "What year is this and what is this place called?""It is 1808 and you are upon the Knob above Cobbler's Bottom." I answered.Her mouth fell open with such a look of shock. She glanced at the Doctor and then back at me and her face broke into a smile."Ooh, cheeky! Not been on one of them in ages," and she laughed quite grotesquely."'Allo," said a voice I knew, "What's going on 'ere den?" And there stood Woody Dicker."Hello!" said the Doctor."Hello, hello.........helllllooooo," purred Donna. "Right, best be off," the Doctor went on, making a move back towards the shed. "Come, you lascivious woman," and grasping Donna, pulled her with him."Ow VERY dare you!" she intoned. " I might wanna stay 'ere, wiv 'im." She winked at Woody."We will be late for lunch on the Zeta Boo," said the Doctor."O'right" she said, "See ya!" and went inside."Bye, Wayne," said the Doctor, " and bye you," he nodded at Woody, and closed the door.After a brief moment that strange sound started up again and the blue shed began to shimmer and fade. I stepped towards Woody and clasped my arms about him and he clung to me as the shed disappeared before our very eyes. We held onto each other for quite sometime afterwards in a stunned and awkward silence, then Woody blasphemed and continued; "...dat were some beer dey gave us in dat Inn!"As we walked back Woody kept on taking the Lords name in vain and rubbing his head. I was simply wondering how the Doctor had known my name.
Dear Diary,Why is a bed at it's most comfortable when it is time to rise? I was knocked up by Ned as usual this morn but found it most difficult to depart the cosy embrace of my bed linen. As I lay there holding my pillow I imagined the joy of waking with another and wondered what it must be like. There was that time, at Mr Griffith's, when I awoke with Palpitations, but I do not count waking with that univited and brazen butler to be representative of the joys of shared arousal. I wonder when my time will come.Much of the greenery, so absent these past months, is making it's annual return, with stems pushing out of the ground and buds aloft, slowly opening. The birds are more sonorous and busy collecting nesting material and there is the expectant buzz of certain procreation all around. Whilst in the garden today I heard a happy twittering from a nearby bush and pausing, espied a merry pair of tits engaged in delightful courtship. If only I had had my gun! How I loathe and detest this time of year!
Dear Diary,The image is gone! Perchance I overindulged in it. If I had used it more sparingly perhaps it would have remained longer. The only thing that is preventing me from tossing myself off on the Knob is Mrs Crutchlow back where she belongs in the Scullery. God bless those leeches!
Dear Diary,I cannot get that image from yesterday out of my head and if truth be told, do not wish to. Every now and then throughout the day I have closed my eyes, worried that it might have left me at last, but happily it remains as vivid as ever. How marvellous is the human form and how beautiful it can be. There was a wedding today at the Chapel, a distant cousin of Titty's, to which we were all invited despite never having ever met the happy couple. How unfortunate for them that the Parson was still infirm and that they were wed by 'Wevewand Wussell'. How unfortunate that the 'bwide' and 'gwoom' were called 'Webecca' and 'Wobert'. How sacrilegious that at the words "Let us pway" I found myself gazing upon a naked Woody.
Dear Diary,As it was such a bright and cloudless day, I took Python out for a gallop. I have sorely neglected my faithful steed and astride him I realised how I have missed his muscular movement between my thighs. I contemplated the route past Ballbanger Abbey but where the road finally forked allowed Python to decide and he chose the route to Netherghyll Gorge. It has been a long while since I have ventured there but Python must have remembered drinking from one of the pools in the stream that tumbles off the hillside. It is a pretty and secluded place and in past times the family have come there to swim. The trees are quite stunted in the shadow of the gorge and so I was forced to dismount and lead Python under them. Python heard the laughter before I did. He snorted and pricked his ears. Someone was at the pool. We moved forward, slowly, through the trees careful not to announce our arrival. The pool lies at the foot of a narrow cascade and only catches the sun for a short time in the day. As we turned the corner, there it lay glinting in the sun and cavorting and whooping about in it were three merry fellows. How brave of them to take to the water so early in the year! When I noticed that two were identical in face and form I knew they were the Dicker twins and the other must have been young Diddy Dicker. One of the twins climbed out upon a rock. I gasped as the water streamed off his naked body. The others were laughing as he waved his arms in the air and turned to dive back in. I could not help but stare and then;"Hey up! Mr Austen!" said a voice I had heard before. I leapt upon the spot and turned to face Woody standing naked on the path close by. I know not from where he came. I flushed as I took in the sight and I lost control of my eyes as they went from his face, to his middle, to his face and to his middle again. I opened my mouth to say something but shut it again and turned sharply to exit and forgetting Python was behind me bumped into his head and was knocked to the floor. I was up before I scarcely landed and grabbing the rein pulled Python after me, back down the path. "Come join us Mr Austen! Don' be shy!" shouted Woody from behind me. I did not look back. I did not need to. I could still see him and still can if I close my eyes.
Dear Diary,Such a lovely sunset, this evening, silhouetted the hills. How I wished I had some one to share it with me and yet despite my despondence with my lot I was glad to be there to see it. I am alive and have much to live for and in those times when I feel lost and alone I know I have family and friends who love me for who I am. Back at the Grange all was quiet in the parlour. I noted Father gets comfort from patting his Todger's head and teasing his Willie and Fanny, pleasure, from stroking her pussy. Alas, it is not a pet I desire. What I seek is nigh on impossible to find. I tire of the journey but shall never give up.
Dear Diary,Such a miserable day! April showers? I fear they are more April torrents! I have reamined housebound all the while. Fanny did not seem to mind and was determined to call upon the ladies at Cobbler's End. I asked what could be so urgent that she should brave the elements thus. I did not ascertain her exact reasons but I believe it involved Miss Lott's clematis. I think that was the word. Doctor Proctor called to leech Mrs Crutchlow, who is still abed, but left saying he would have to return with more as the few he had brought could not contend with a lady of her... 'magnificence'. I thought that was very politely expressed. I caught Ned emerging from the scullery with such a distention of his breeches that I could not help but stare. He smiled cheekily and pulled out half a baguette; the influence of our foreign visitors lingers on.In my chamber I sat and watched the droplets chase each other down the window pane and twiddling my thumbs thought of Emmanuel, then twiddled something else.
Dear Diary,I knew it! I slipped into the scullery this morning, unannounced, and caught Ned kneading Titty's muffins. He leapt back in embarrassment."I hope your hands are clean Ned," I said enquiringly."Of course, Mr Austen, sir. They are 'imasculate'!" He boldly stepped forward and handled them again.He looked at me and smiled, then with a nod of his head beckoned me over to try myself. It did look most appealing. He stepped back and I pulled up my sleeves and grasped them in my hands and squeezed and rolled them around with my palms. I could not help but smile at the pleasant feeling it engendered.Later in the forest, while out walking, I crept behind a tree to unburden my bladder and had not quite completed the task when I was startled by a slap upon the back and a cry of;"'Ow da 'ell are ya?"When I had made myself decent I turned to find a pair of bright blue eyes shining out of smiling face beneath a messy tangle of jet black hair."I am very well, thank you," I replied, " and yourself?""Couldna' be finer," came the reply. "Ah'm Woody Dicker, pleased ta meet ya," and wiping his hand upon his breeches held it out to me. It did not look that 'imasculate' to me, but I grasped it anyway."Wayne Austen," I smiled. "Charmed.""Ah've just been ta da village fa some bread," he went on and then stopped and peered closely at me. "What's da on ya nose?" I felt myself flush. How dreadful to be caught with one's breeches unfastened and mucus upon one's nose! I quickly wiped at the end and noticed a smudge of flour upon my fingertips. I laughed."I have been kneading dough balls," I confessed."Ah see," he winked " Ah kinda like da balls maself."
Dear Diary,Mrs Crutchlow is ill and has taken to her bed. Titty has stepped into the breach but I'll wager she is getting a helping hand from Ned. There was a delicious sticky gingerbread in the parlour for afternoon tea and I confess I had two modest slices. Dinner, however, was not up to the usual standard but I would never voice my opinion for I could do no better and we are grateful for her efforts. I ventured to the Chapel, this afternoon, to reacquaint my fingers with the Parson's organ. They were quite out of practice and I fumbled about for quite sometime before they eventually found their old rhythm, gliding across it and making those pipes swell.
Dear Diary,Today, I felt duty bound to pay a visit to the Parson in his infirmity. After all, has he not allowed me to take advantage of his organ in the past? When I arrived I found I was not his only visitor for sitting in his parlour, also, was 'Wussell Spwout'. The Parson introduced us but I said we'd met and I spoke of my recent visit to Effin Hall. Russell said he did not 'wecall' our meeting but had heard Evelyn Tent mention me in past weeks, he then seemed quick to change the subject and mentioned the 'wecent' talk of Twavellers'. It seems many people are taking extra precautions with their valuables and Russell wondered if the silver at the Chapel should be locked away. They wondered what I thought. I said I felt everyone seemed to be judging these people before they knew them and it did not seem very 'Chwistian'. I think I actually said 'Chwistian'. Russell did not appear to notice but the Parson began coughing loudly. On my way out the Parson entreated me to use his organ as and when I wished. I thanked him for his hospitality and wished him a speedy 'wecovewy'. He laughed and shook my hand.On my home I was startled by a hare that ran across my path and cavorted over the field in the late afternoon sunshine, his mind no doubt upon his mate. How I envied him!
Dear Diary,There was great consternation in the house at breakfast. It seems some Travellers have set up camp in the woods below the Knob. Titty confided in Fanny that Farmer Clamp is much aggrieved as it is upon his land, but is fearful of provoking them. Of course Fanny divulged it to everyone as if they were the only one she was telling. By late afternoon, Ned was able to shed more light upon our new neighbours. It seems they are a family, a father and four sons but Ned knew nought of the whereabouts of the mother. He was able to say that the eldest two boys were twins and could recite all their names from father to youngest, and most odd some of them are too; Willy, Cuddy, Canny, Woody and Diddy Dicker. I am sure it is ill advised apprehension and they will be gone before very long. Mark my words!
Dear Diary,It is good to be home in the bosom of one's family again. The past days have been tranquil and peaceful and I have been very much at ease. Today we were to Chapel and discovered the Parson to be ill, though nothing, I am to believe, too serious. As his replacement mounted the pulpit, I recognised his face but could not quite place it...and then he spoke;" Gweetings and welcome. I am Wussell Spwout." It was the Vicar from St Hilda's in the Effin Vale. " Let us pwaise the Lord by singing the hymn, Cwist the Lord is wisen today." Fanny could not contain her titters for much of the service and had to let them out. Vainly she tried to conceal them behind her hymnal. I snorted when the reading was from the First Epistle to the 'Hebwews'. Needless to say, we slipped out of the 'vestwy' while Wussel was thanking the pawishioners. How we laughed all the way home. It has been a long time since Fanny and I have chortled so.
Dear Diary,I have had enough of the city. It is certainly full of the hustle and bustle that Cobbler's Bottom lacks and there is much to see and do, yet the people have little time for anyone and rush about their busy lives. At least in Cobbler's Bottom you are greeted as you pass, even if it is by an unintelligable fellow who has not seen soap for years...and then it may not sound like a greeting but you can be sure of the intention. More people do not mean better people. I do not believe the people here are happier than the people of Cobbler's Bottom, perhaps with the exception of Old Mr Bummer who has lost two fingers, is blind in one eye, whose wife left him for his Father and who was struck by lightening for the second time last year. More 'life' does not mean a better life. I believe there are many here who would relish some time upon Cobbler's Knob as I do. I shall return tomorrow, rejoice and mount that Knob with all due haste.
Dear Diary,I have not been in the best of moods since the departure of Emmanuel and this morning after a disagreement with Father I have packed a bag and come to Manchesterford. The Inn in which I reside is comfortable yet basic. This evening I met my good friend Mr Griffiths who has walked these streets for many a year and knows them well. He is a friend of thespians and took me to where they all throng and carouse. We ventured into a few taverns but alas, Mr Griffiths declared it to be 'Ugly Night'. We partook of a little intoxicating liquor but I fear it did not help and it sadly, remained 'Ugly Night'.
Dear Diary,Ned sheepishly entered my chamber, this morning, with the water for my ablutions. He placed it upon the table, as he usually does, yet did not leave as normal but stood and wrung his hands. I sat up and rubbed my eyes and peered at him."I wonder, Mr Austen, if I might trouble you to assist me as I assisted you yesterday?" he uttered."I'm sorry," I replied "but I do not follow.""Mr Austen, I believe I, too, have something which needs removing from my buttocks," he blurted.Now, I was awake. It was a request I had not expected, however, I could tell from his stance that it had been an effort to utter it. He stood there and could not look at me in his embarrassment."Of course, Ned," I replied. "One good turn deserves another. Will you lie?"" No, Mr Austen, Sir, I prefer to stand," he answered.I was quite relieved for I was not quite ready to stand myself at that moment. He moved towards me then turned and slid his breeches down gently and leaned forward slightly. His skin was very white and smooth and my mouth felt very dry. At first glance nothing seemed amiss and I leaned closer to look for whatever it could be that was out of place. All looked fine to me. I was just thinking I had never seen anything so fine, when he leaned further forward and something white appeared ...how can I put this?... between the cleft. I find this very difficult to write for my hand is still shaking at the thought now. I reached out my quivering hand and, very carefully, trying not to touch his skin pulled out a small, white, folded piece of paper. Gently, I opened it and written upon it were the words;'April Fool.'Before I could slap him upon his well presented cheeks, Ned leapt forward, hoisting his breeches and roared with laughter. My door burst open and in fell Mrs Crutchlow, clapping her hands in joy and behind her, not quite sure if she should really find it amusing, an embarrassed Titty. I had to laugh too, but I still did not get up. If I had done so, there would have been more than just an embarrassed Titty.
