Monday 7th July 1808

Dear Diary,
"I think my uncle thought we were a pair of 'homosapiens'," said a sleepy Ned as he rolled over to face me, lying wrapped in my blanket.
"I'm not no queer, Mr Austen," he went on.
"Oh, I know, and I think it would be fitting for you to call me Wayne under the circumstances, " I replied.
"Oh no! I couldn't do that. It ain't right," he said. "You coming for a swim?"
He stood up and stripped down to his undergarments and ducked out of the tent. I stuck my head out to watch his amusing, limping run towards the lake. He clambered up a large boulder on the shore, whipped off his drawers and with a hoot leapt into the water. "Come on! " he cried, "the water's.....f..f..f..freezing!" I just crawled back under my blanket.
Later when he was off up the mountain, worrying sheep, I did venture into the water myself, very gradually, and his estimation of it's temperature was quite correct.
In the afternoon I acquired more wood and tried my hand at pole whittling, as I had seen Ned do.
As the dusk began to fall and reminding me it was our last evening, he enticed me back into the icy water for a moonlit dip. I wished I had been brave enough to go naked as he did, for when I leapt off the boulder into the water, my underwear rode up and wrapped itself around my spleen...or so it seemed.