Thursday 10th July 1808

Dear Diary,
This evening I rode to The Fawcett Inn at the behest of Miss Dixon. I was hoping it to be the usual gathering but found she had gathered a throng of unfamiliar gentlewomen for the simple repast.
"I hope you are not concerned to be the only gentleman present," she smiled, " for I know how comfortable you are in the presence of ladies. I feel you are indeed almost one of us." I did not quite know what to make of that.
I was introduced to all present and was indeed afforded much attention.
"Where is Miss Forster?" I asked of Miss Dixon.
"She was to be here but has retired to bed with a terrible head," came the reply.
There was much chatter about the table and Miss Dixon asked about my recent activities. She listened with some attention whilst trying to eavesdrop on others about the table, before announcing loudly;
"Oh, Mr Austen do tell the others the funny tale of what happened to your ass up Strokesack Mountain."
It was certainly a conversation stopper yet Miss Dixon went on to exceed it, and sadly ruin the meal for many present, with her tale of her neighbours child who became alarmed at something they found in their chamber pot one morning. The poor child cried in alarm for it's mother to come and see. I will not go into the detail that Miss Dixon did but safe to say there were very few present who wished to put forward their view upon why corn is not so easily digested.