Friday 25th July 1808

Dear Diary,
There was an epistolary delight waiting for me beside my poached egg. Mr McVay has called me to London. It seems, as he put it, having his finger 'on the sphincter of all things thespian' he has been able to acquire admission to an intimate soiree in the city with the diminutive but celebrated orator Kyle Minoogle. Who'd have thought I should be so lucky...lucky, lucky?
Such a hot and humid day. It was difficult to find a cool and shady spot. I came across Ned, shirtless, behind his shed. He looked preoccupied as he stroked the long, thick, hard shaft of his chopper.
"What troubles you Ned?" I suspected it was thoughts of Titty. I probed him. "I see something in your eyes. Confide in me?"
"I feel like I'm in 'libido', Mr Austen, I just can't get her out of my head. If I could step back in time...", he drifted off, then straightened and said " I'll be fine. Give me just a little more time."
He swung his chopper hard with his left hand and a large log split cleanly down the middle.
"I thought you were right handed Ned?" I was impressed.
"Oh, I can swing with my left and with my right. I'm completely 'amphibian'," he grinned.
"Indeed," I sighed. "If anyone wants me," I said, moving on, "I shall be down where the wild roses grow."