Wednesday 21st September 1811

Dear Diary,
I am once again abed, quill in hand scratching upon your ivory pages, alone.
Willow is yet again otherwise engaged. These past three days he has left early for school and returned late. He assures me that I should not be perturbed by his absence.
I am. 
Happily Ned has now finished his erection in the garden. 
He arrived today with little Annie.
"I am sorry Mr Austen, but it is my turn to mind the little 'un."
"She can come and help me," smiled Mrs Crutchlow, holding out a wooden spoon. "We can make some cakes, can't we Annie?"
They retired to the kitchen.
Ned sighed.
"I do find it hard to keep 'er interested when I 'ave her. I know she prefers bein' with 'er Mother. You can't deny the bondage between a Mother and her daughter, can you, Mr Austen?"
"Indeed," I smiled and he went off into the garden with his tools.
Later he called me over.
"It's finished. What do you think?"
"It is wonderful Ned!" I did not lie. "You really have a gift for working wood. I particularly like the way it curves with the grain and how the arm rests appear part of the overhanging tree itself."
He smiled with pride.
"Well, if anything Mr Austen, 'av always been remorseful!"