Friday 2nd May 1808

Dear Diary,
I am just returned from Manchesterford.
Knowing my fondness for thespians my parents indulged me by whisking me off to see a play by William Shakespeare as a belated birthday present. They would give no clues as to what we were journeying to see as they did not know themselves. I suspect we are only going because one of Father's acquaintances has expressed interest in it and he wants the upper hand. We arrived a little early and Mother went off to ascertain the title of the piece whilst Father and I enjoyed an ale. She returned moments later declaring;
" It's Richard the Turd."
Father spluttered ale all down the front of his jacket and looked at Mother in horror. On discovering the company all hailed from Dublin I understood the simple misinterpretation.
I enjoyed the play immensely but how odd they spoke in yesteryear.
Of course all the gossip of the moment, back home, is the mysterious return of the Chapel silver discovered back in it's rightful place by Flora Bunder. Happily suspicion is no longer laid upon the Dickers as they were vanished before it's return. The Parson is delighted and happy to be back in his pulpit and I must say I am happy to see him there too. I doubt I could have endured the cries of "It's a miwacle!" on Sunday had he not been recovered.