Friday 4th July 1808

Dear Diary,
Ned rode away after breakfast. Mother and Father left for Far Corfe Hall a few hours later and we all stood on the steps to wave them off. I lingered a little while longer attempting to look morose and listless before suddenly and decisively, announcing my intention to visit Mr Griffiths in Manchesterford for a few days and trusting my sisters would enjoy having the Grange to themselves and sure they would be well catered for at the hands of Betty Tert, caught Ned up at an Inn, some ten miles away. Together we rode on to his uncle's farm nestling in the valley below the great mass of Strokesack Mountain.
Greetings and introductions over with, Ned's uncle turned to me, with a wink, saying;
"You know how to handle an ass?"
I did not quite know how to reply to that question and had only just begun to stammer my reply when Ned led a donkey out of the barn, laden with provisions.
Soon we set out up the mountain, at first through the woodland and then out above the tree line into the heathery moorland and the coursing, endless wind.
Ned found a sheltered spot beside a small mountain lake and got the canvas tent up whilst I, helpfully, held the pole. He soon had a fire going with wood he'd brought with us and we sat down under the darkening sky and ate a simple meal of bread and ham.
He is asleep now and I am writing this by the light of the fire. Tomorrow he shall go higher up and bring down any sheep he finds. I am to take the ass and fetch more wood from the woodland below.
How quiet everything is up here and how bright the stars. I shall gaze upon them a while longer and then crawl into my bedding.